Please forgive me for leaving you dangling with a dozen Gooseberry Jam Doughnuts for far too long.  I was hoping praying the jammy delights might be special enough to linger on while we ventured off-farm for a spell, so thanks for hanging in there. I’ve missed you!

After much ado, the farmers and I were finally able to hatch a plan to trek off on our annual whirlwind Stateside tour. We spent three weeks visiting family and friends, three farms + a sugar bush, two cherry orchards, a cidery, one fish boil, one drive-in cinema, a state fair, the sandy beach, a friendly film editor, and basically all things Americana. I managed to keep up with my weekly column for Irish Country Living, but wanted to wait until we were homebound to write a proper blog post.

We are now back at the farm and I am experiencing my “re-entry syndrome” which is basically what I like to call the stealth combination of massive jetlag + a heady cold/flu.  The bad news is that for whatever reason, it never fails to strike after spending a few hot summer weeks in the USA (despite coming home to mostly sunny Irish weather this time), but the bonus is that it always ends up also being a major detoxification which I like to think makes up for being a complete glutton a somewhat overindulgent holiday.

In between popping copious amounts of cold tablets, slamming Berocca by the litre, and sleeping for long stretches, I decided to read a book that I had been dying to dig into ever since my book proposal was “politely passed on” by Berkely, the publishing house who was already releasing Rurally Screwed, My Life Off the Grid with the Cowboy I Love, by Jessie Knadler. Rurally Screwed is a tale of a woman who left her journalism career in NYC to marry a cowboy that she meets on assignment in Montana. I devoured the book over the course of two days, and particularly enjoyed her frankness and honesty on adapting to a new life outside of the city, which now included rearing chickens, bible study, a wood-fired stove for heating, and Wa-Wa-Walmart. I chuckled at the irony in her visit to Brooklyn years later to find that so many cityfolk had morphed into hipster-style countryfolk . She didn’t realize that “farming” had become foxy. This is likely because when you really are farming, it’s anything but. It’s not a cookbook, but a memoir (she also has a preserving book), still, reading about deer (venison) neck tacos and her take on balancing the right amount lemony goo to pastry for lemon bars will surely make your mouth water.

That’s it for now, I will be back soon with a special new recipe that I’ve been dreaming up for some time…..it involves a different take on a classic Irish cake + some farm fresh homemade ice cream, so please stay tuned.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos by Imen McDonnell

Tags: American, farm, farmette, Farming, foodie, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, Irish, Irish country living, irish food, Irish food photography, rurally screwed

“You can’t grow hairs on a duck egg,

Hairs only grow on an ape,

And it’s only the hairs on a goosegog,

That stop it from being a grape.”

~author unknown

As I patiently plucked goosegog after goosegog last weekend, I contemplated how deceptively ‘like grapes’ these little fruits appear to be. But, after popping one little globe into my mouth, while simultaneously hearing “Oh, you may not want to eat them raw” warned from behind me at precisely the same time, I realized in a bite, how absolutely ‘not like a grape’ and more like a lemon, they are…..{Cook’s Note: gooseberries are very sour and tart when eaten raw. There are some exceptions to this, but it is generally the rule.}

Yes, the glory of gooseberry season has arrived in the Irish countryside. I have been patiently waiting for harvest time since peeking in on the bushes last month to find that they were all beginning to produce berries. When there was finally a window of sunshine, Geoffrey and I quickly marched straight on over to the little farm orchard and harvested green and red gooseberries with Gran from six thriving bushes.

This is my third year being acquainted with gooseberries. We have become fast friends. Sure, we always have a little scuffle when I go to pick them from their thorny branches, but once made into jam, all is forgiven again. Last year, I made a simple gooseberry froyo and the year before I posted “Peggy’s Gooseberry Jam” my mother-in-law’s lovely recipe.

This time around, Peggy gave us free reign over the berries as she still has a cupboard full of jam lingering from last season. Since we picked about 8 lbs (15 kgs), I decided to use the berries a few different ways. After a half a day of topping and tailing the berries, we gave them a good wash and they were prepped and ready for the world.

At the brilliant suggestion of my friend, Heidi, at Serious Jam, I combined gooseberry with roasted garlic for a gorgeous relish that will be lovely on crostini or with some sharp Irish cheddar. Then, I made a few pots of classic jam using my spanking new jam jars from Hen and Hammock. After that, we baked two gooseberry-elderflower tarts “grandma style” that were specially requested by my father-in-law.

BUT, best of all….we made:

Homemade donuts are no strangers in this house {cough}, but I had never attempted to make a jam donut up until now. I must admit, jam donuts were never a particular favourite of mine growing up. This is important to note, as I do consider myself somewhat of a donut addict aficionado. I have always relished Long Johns, Persians, Krullers, Kolaches, Fritters, or basically any type of raised unfilled donut slathered with vanilla, chocolate, or maple icing and toasted coconut, crushed peanuts, or various sprinkles gracing the tops. Then, there is also my affinity to the glazed, sugared, and cinnamon-sugared ring donuts and holes.  There was only one exception to my unfilled donut preference; I have always adored bismark donuts filled with custard and poofed all over with powdery confectioners sugar.

For whatever reason, the jelly-jam injection just did not strike my fancy.

Until now.

Originating in Germany around 1532, calling themselves “Berliner Buns” the jelly doughnut popularity spread across Europe swiftly. And, from what I can tell, jam doughnuts appear to be the doughnut-of-choice in Ireland.  They are mostly filled with a very sweet black currant or raspberry jam, and sprinkled liberally with sugar. Every bakery, grocery store, filling station and farmer’s market will have jam donuts ready and waiting for you.

At the little farmer’s urging, we decided to make the doughnuts on Saturday morning and fill them with our freshly potted gooseberry jam. For a little more novelty, we decided to mix up some lemonade and try to sell our donuts and lemonade at the farm gate.

We had one very good customer, and his name was Daddy.

Still, we had no problem finishing off our leftover stock……

Move over Long John, Jammy’s moving in.

Geoffrey’s Gooseberry Jam Doughnuts

Ingredients

2 (7 g each) packets of dried yeast granules

1/4 cup or 60ml warm water

1 cup or 250ml warm milk

1/4 cup or 60g caster/superfine sugar

60g or 3 tbsp butter, melted

2 eggs, lightly beaten

3 3/4  cups or 165g  plain flour

1/2 cup or 75g gooseberry jam (or any flavour), approximately {Peggy’s recipe is nice}

Oil for deep frying and icing/confectioner’s sugar for coating

Method

Combine yeast, water milk and sugar in small bowl.

Cover, stand in warm place about 10 minutes or until mixture is frothy.

Stir butter and eggs into yeast mixture.

Sift flour into large bowl, stir in yeast mixture, mix to a soft dough.

Cover, stand in warm place about 45 minutes or until dough has doubled in size.

Turn dough onto lightly floured surface, knead dough about 5 minutes or until smooth.

Roll dough until about 2cm (about 1 inch) thick, cut into 5cm (about 2.5 inch) rounds.

Loosely cover rounds with oiled plastic wrap, stand in warm place about 10 minutes, or until almost doubled in size.

Deep-fry doughnuts in batches in hot oil until well browned, turning once.

Drain on absorbent paper, toss doughnuts immediately in icing sugar

Let cool slightly and fill a pastry bag, fitted with a 1/2-inch round tip with jam.

Insert the tip into the end of each doughnut and pipe approximately 1 to 2 teaspoons into them and serve.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and styling by Imen McDonnell 2012. Donut making and sales assistance by Geoffrey McDonnell.

Tags: American, donut, doughnut, elderflower gooseberry tart, farm, farmer, Farming, foodies, gooseberry jam, Hen and Hammock, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, irish farmer, Irish food photography, jam donut, jelly doughnut, Married an Irish Farmer, married an irishman, serious jam

I made a cherry tart for the first time in my life today. Not just any ordinary cherry tart, a cheery cherry tart made with Irish grown cherries. Cheery because it’s been raining here for weeks and we needed a little cheering up.  So, for the record, I will confirm that a corner of cherry tart with a scoop of homemade buttermilk ice cream certainly brought a snippet of sunshine to our day.

Now, many of you might not think baking a cherry pie or tart is such an extraordinary accomplishment, but I can assure you that finding Irish cherries to make such a tart is no small feat. Sure, you can go to your supermarket and buy cherries from all corners of the earth at this time of year, but you’ll never see “COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: IRELAND” labeled on a package unless you are at farmer’s market, and even then, it is very rare. In fact, until the surprising opportunity arose in which to pick cherries in our area, I was ready to fill up the car with diesel and drive all the way to Temple Bar in Dublin very early on a Saturday morning to score a punnet or two from David Llewelyn. So, bearing that in mind, this is one damned special cherry tart.

I don’t know about you, but I have some fantastic food memories from my childhood that I just can’t shake. They have become seasonal expectations, and no matter where I am in the world, these remarkable bits of nostalgia creep into my consciousness, take me back to a footloose and fancy-free American youth, and then proceed to create criminal cravings.

Summer cherries happen to be one of those cravings. Every summer I’ll find myself longing for cherries, and not just the cherries, but the cherry picking. (others bits of nostalgia might be sugar snap pea pickin-n-nibblin chain gang style at the local pick-your-own veg farm, or Sunday country drives with my dad in search of secret wild asparagus). Despite having lived in Minneapolis, L.A. and NYC, I grew up on Lake Michigan within a stone’s throw from Door County, aka, Cherry Country. Each summer, everything from cherry pie to cherry wine, cherry jam, salsa or sausage was suddenly on offer in boutique stores to bait shops. On our visit last year, we made a special trip to Fish Creek to sample Good Morning America’s Best Breakfast in the USA, White Gull Inn’s Cherry Stuffed French Toast. It was perfection on a plate.

Last week, myself, and the two farmers graciously accepted an invitation to pick cherries and other fruits at the estate of a new friend and colleague who is passionate about the business of supporting the growing and sustaining of local food in Ireland. (Stay tuned to learn more about his special program, as I will be sharing more about this exciting initiative in the months to come.)

We arrived at Attyflin on a cool, wet evening and were warmly greeted by our lovely host, his two Irish Red Setters and a charming little terrier who guided us into an 18^th century walled garden. Once through the gate, I took a moment to observe the impeccably organised two acres or so of space impressively filled with thriving vegetables, fruits and herbs. I had no idea what to expect outside of a few cherry trees when we arrived, and what was before my eyes was nothing short of breathtaking. I reckon that what lies between those walls must be on par with the Lissadel House gardens, which I never had a chance to visit before it was closed to the public.

As we walked around, we were introduced to fig trees, peaches, plums and apple trees, loganberry, blackberry, raspberry canes, black and red currants, blueberries, and last but not least, two different varieties of cherry trees which were covered in netting and growing on the wall. I suspect the protection from both weather and birds was instrumental in bearing such beautiful fruit.

We picked cherries and some other berries, went into the family home for a cup of tea and chat before heading back to the farm for the night. On the drive home, Geoffrey instantly fell asleep while we marveled in gratitude and awe over what we had just encountered. For the next two days, I pondered what to make with our cherry/berry bounty. It was a special evening to remember.

Irish Cherry-Rosemary Tart

(adapted from The Joy of Baking)

For the Pate Brisee (Short Crust Pastry)

2 1/2 cups(350g) all-purpose/cream flour

1 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoon (30g) granulated or caster white sugar

1 cup (227g) unsalted butter, chilled, and cut into 1 inch (2.5 cm) pieces

1/4 to 1/2 cup (60 – 120ml) ice water

For the Cherry Filling

4 cups (960 ml) pitted, sweet or tart fresh cherries (can use 4 cups (960 ml) sweet or tart canned or bottled cherries, drained with 1/3 cup (80 ml) cherry juice reserved)

3/4 cup (150g) granulated white sugar, or as needed

2 1/2 tablespoons (30g) Cornstarch/Cornflour

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

2-3 fresh rosemary sprigs

2 tablespoons (25 grams) unsalted butter, cut in small pieces

For the Glaze

2 tablespoons cream

Granulated white sugar

In a food processor, place the flour, salt, and sugar and process until combined. Add the butter and process until the mixture resembles coarse meal (about 15 seconds). Pour 1/4 cup (60 ml) water in a slow, steady stream, through the feed tube until the dough just holds together when pinched. If necessary, add more water. Do not process more than 30 seconds.

Turn the dough onto your work surface and gather into a ball. Divide the dough in half, flattening each half into a disk, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for about one hour before using. This will chill the butter and relax the gluten in the flour.

After the dough has chilled sufficiently, remove one portion of the dough from the fridge and place it on a lightly floured surface. Roll the pastry into a 12inch (30cm) rectangle. Fold the dough in half and gently transfer to the rectangular tart pan. Brush off any excess flour and tuck the overhanging pastry under itself, crimping as desired. Refrigerate the pastry, covered with plastic wrap, while you roll out the remaining pastry and make the cherry filling.

Meanwhile, remove the second round of pastry and roll it into another rectangle. Using a crimped pastry cutter, cut strips of pastry for lattice top. Place the strips on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet, cover with plastic wrap, and place in the refrigerator.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F (205 degrees C) and place the oven rack in the lower third of the oven.

Place the cherries in a large bowl. Add the sugar, cornstarch, salt, lemon juice, vanilla extract, rosemary sprigs, and gently toss to combine. (If using canned cherries also add the 1/3 cup (80 ml) reserved cherry juice.) Let sit for about 10-15 minutes and then pour the mixture into the prepared tart case and dot with the 2 tablespoons (25 grams) of butter. Lightly brush the rim of the pastry case with the egg wash. Weave the pastry lattice tip and brush the entire surface with the cream. Sprinkle with a little granulated white sugar.

Place the tart on a larger baking pan, lined with parchment paper, to catch any spills. Bake the tart for about 15 minutes and then reduce the oven temperature to 350 degrees F (177 degrees C). Continue to bake the tart for about 25 – 35 minutes or until the crust is a deep golden brown color and the cherry juices are starting to bubble. If the edges of the tart are browning too much during baking, cover with a foil ring.

Place the baked tart on a wire rack to cool for several hours.  Serve at room temperature with buttermilk ice cream in a jar like my friend Shaina would do! Store any leftovers for 2 – 3 days at room temperature.

Buttermilk Ice Cream

6 egg yolks

¾ cup (150g) sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 ½ cups (375ml) heavy(double)cream

1 vanilla bean

1 1/4 cups (325ml) buttermilk

1/2 teaspoon lemon zest

Heavy pinch of salt

Whisk together the yolks, ½ cup (100g) sugar and vanilla extract until the mixture is pale and holds a ribbon.

In a saucepan, bring the cream and ¼ cup (50g) sugar to a simmer with vanilla bean; remove from heat and allow to steep for 15 minutes. Split and scrape beans; return seeds to cream.

While whisking, slowly pour the hot cream into the yolk mixture, then return the mixture back to the pot. Cook over medium heat until it coats the back of a wooden spoon, 2-3 minutes. Remove from heat and allow to cool briefly before whisking in the buttermilk, lemon zest and salt.

Chill completely and churn in an ice-cream maker. Makes 2 pints.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos & Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: buttermilk ice cream, cherry pie, cherry tart, DOor County, farm, farmer, Farming, foodie, foodies, Good Morning America, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, Irish, Irish country living, Irish food photography, irish foodies, loganberry, love, marrying an irish man, pie a day

3 Milks
+
Cake
=
Heaven

I have been burning to make this beguiling cake of three milks for some time, and when Lily Rameriz-Foran, another food loving expat living and blogging in Ireland, opened her long-awaited online Mexican food market it seemed like the perfect excuse opportunity to get an authentic recipe to make a Tres Leches cake at last.  We are colossal lovers of Mexican food in this house, and until now finding ingredients such as chipotle peppers, masa or authentic tortillas had been nearly impossible to source where we are located in the west of Ireland.

Lily was kind enough to share her special family recipe for Tres Leches cake with me. This dense and creamy dairy cake is made using three different milks. I knew that I wanted to try and use all three milks fresh from the farm, including the evaporated and condensed milk, so after doing some clandestine research, I learned how I could prepare each from scratch.

Turns out, while it does take a fair bit of time, both milks are very simple to make and the flavour is far superior to any version of the same in a tin with a supermarket shelf life of six months or more.

Interestingly, I found that the preparation for this cake is actually very similar to angel food cake, except the recipe includes the egg yolks as well. It is important to sift the flour at least three times and keep everything really airy throughout the mixing process. I have enjoyed Tres Leches cake in restaurants, but the combination of Lily’s recipe and the fresh milks have resulting in a cake that would be dangerously easy for me to tuck into every day.

If you have children, this is fun to make with the smallies as it involves poking holes in the cake with a toothpick, a skill that kids have heaps of fun doing.

I encouraged our little farmer to assist me in everything from manning the mixer to the pricking, and finally, pouring the tres leches over the cake. Let’s just say, he is very proud of “his milk cake”

Creamy, dreamy…….heavenly cake, especially on a summer day!

Lily’s Tres Leches Cake

Ingredients:

For the cake:

2 cups/240g of all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons of baking powder

1 cup/200g of caster sugar 8 eggs (separated)

1/3 cup/80ml of full fat milk

For the Tres Leches Mix:

1 12 oz/354ml condensed milk

1 12 oz/354ml of evaporated milk

1 cup/225 ml of double cream

1 tsp of pure vanilla extract

1 tsp of Rompope or Tia Maria or Brandy ( I left the booze out in order to be kid-friendly this time)

For the Icing:

3 egg whites

1 cup/200g of caster sugar

3 tablespoons of golden syrup

1⁄4/60ml cup of water

For the Cake:

Preheat the oven at 200c/400f degrees and grease a springform cake tin, I use a round 20 cm one, but you might want your cake taller or square. Sieve the flour and baking powder 3 times (yes, 3 times! It’s important) and set aside.

Using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Gradually add the sugar while still beating. Then follow with the egg yolks one at a time and beating well between additions. When the last yolk has been mixed well, put the electric mixer away and using a hand whisk, fold the flour & baking powder mix in three goes. Finish off by adding the milk again using a folding motion to keep the cake light and airy. Pour the mixture into the prepared tin and bake in the oven for 30 to 35 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. While the cake is in the oven, get on with making the Tres Leches Mix.

For the Tres Leches Mix:

Put all ingredients in the blender or food processor and blend them together. Pour them into a jug and set aside.

When the cake is cooked, take it out of the oven and using a toothpick or a thin skewer, prick the entire cake. Make loads of holes as they will be used to soak the cake with the tres leches mix. Once the cake has been pricked, take it out of the tin. Place the cake in a cake plate or tray with a bit of a lip as there will be liquid running through it.

Once the cake is in the correct plate and while it is still hot, pour the Tres Leches mixture slowly through the whole of the cake, making sure you’re gentle and that all the little holes you made earlier get saturated with this milky mixture. It is very important that the pouring of the milk is done while the cake is still hot as otherwise the cake will just go soggy. There’s a lot of milk mixture, so don’t worry about it, just pour it gently and try to cover the cake all over and down the edges. You can now leave the cake to cool completely and store it in the fridge until you’re ready to ice it.

For the Icing:

If you have a free standing electric mixer, use it to beat the egg whites until they form soft peaks and leave them ready. In a small, deep pot, put the sugar, water and honey and heat them till they start to boil. As soon as this happens, take them out of the heat and start the mixer on the egg whites again. Slowly, very slowly, pour the hot ‘honey’ you’ve just taken from the heat. Do it very gently and keep the mixer working on high speed until all the liquid has been incorporated to the whites. Switch off the mixer and get ready for icing!

Take the cake out of the fridge and cover it with the icing. Top it up with some chopped pecan nuts, fresh strawberries or a cherry. You can also drizzle some ‘cajeta’ on top of the icing (I sell it in the shop and it is dulce de leche made of goats milk) to turn your cake from 3 to 4 leches!

Farm Fresh Homemade Sweetened Condensed Milk

1 liter whole milk from your farm or local dairy (store bought is fine too)

1 cup granulated sugar (can also use brown or raw sugar)

1 tablespoon butter (optional – to thicken the milk)

In a heavy-bottomed pot, bring the milk and the sugar to a boil over medium heat.

Reduce the heat to low and simmer very gently for about two hours until the volume is reduced by half. The mixture should be barely simmering and never bubbling at any point. Stir every 15 minutes or so to keep the milk from burning on the bottom.

After 2 hours, stir in butter (optional)

Remove the pot from heat and let the milk cool. The mixture will thicken further after it has cooled.

Will keep in refrigerator for 2 weeks or more.

(This milk is perfect (no butter version) for making Vietnamese iced coffee too!)

Farm Fresh Homemade Evaporated Milk

2 litres whole milk from your farm or local dairy (from the store is fine as well)

In a heavy-bottomed pot, bring the milk to a boil over medium heat.

Reduce the heat to low and simmer very gently for about two hours until the volume is reduced by 60%. The milk should be barely simmering and never bubbling at any point. Stir every 15 minutes or so to keep the milk from burning on the bottom.

Remove the pot from heat and let the milk cool. The milk will thicken further after it has cooled.

Will keep in refrigerator for 2 weeks or more.

I hope you enjoy this cake as much as we do! Thanks again Lily! xx

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and styling by Imen McDonnell and Geoffrey McDonnell 2012

Tags: farm, farmer, Farming, food, foodie, foodies, homemade condensed milk, homemade evaporated milk, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, irish farmer, Irish food photography, irish foodies, Lily Ramirez-Foran, Married an Irish Farmer, Marrying an Irishman, Mexican Cook in Eire, mexican food, tres leches

We spent Sunday afternoon at the local Steeplechase

a horse race dripping in history

which is run from one point

to another point

over fences and hills

in the raw Irish countryside…

We were in awe of the young, powerful thoroughbreds

crashing over fences woven with willow branches

…leaving dust in their wake,

and struck by such stunning beauty in the strength and condition of maiden horses

As for the spectators,

there were some very serious betters

with some serious bookmakers at their disposal…

Onlookers of the canine variety were welcomed as well.

We admired colourful jockeys

gathered together before each race,

and spotted the lone female rider

all dressed in white.

Cups of hot whiskey

with lemon, sugar and cloves

were sipped by many

for warming protection

from the brisk, stirring wind

that accompanied the afternoon sun.

Unforgettable.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos by Imen McDonnell 2012.

Tags: country life, farm, farmer, Farming, food, foodie, foodies, Horse, hot whiskey, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, irish farmer, Irish food photography, married an irishman, Point to Point, Racing, steeplechase

Mmmmm. Fresh yogurt. Crunchy granola. Boo Berries.

BUT, before I go into all of that crazy goodness, I’d like to express my GINORMOUS thanks to all that voted for this blog in the Saveur Magazine Best Food Blog Awards. Voting is closed and the winners will be announced on May 3rd. If you voted, it was very generous and kind of you, if you didn’t, I get that too; signing up to vote in a contest is not everyone’s cup-o-tea. I’m just delighted that you take the time to read my funny little country-living/food-loving diary. It’s a labour of love.

I really must say that I am especially grateful to Bord Bia {the Irish food board}, Marie-Claire Digby of the Irish Times, The Irish Farmer’s Journal and Irish Country Mag, along with the amazing food and blogging community in Ireland who shared an overwhelming show of support in getting the word out about this nomination. If there is one thing I have noticed that Ireland does with great pride and enthusiasm, it is supporting the people, places or things they believe in. To receive this gesture of support as an American living in Ireland is something to relish; it is heartwarming and very special to say the least. Plus, it goes a long way in making an oft homesick expat feel right at home, and that is enough of a win for me! Thank you.

I apologise for not having a post up sooner. As luck would have it, we’ve had sketchy internet. I am not going to flannel on about it, because we are lucky that we even have a fast internet connection most of the time. This was not always the case. When I moved here just a few years ago, there was dial-up. The kind where you hear the dial tone and worse-than-nails-on-a-blackboard screeching sounds. Now, we have wi-fi, but the router is located in the cowshed at the upper farmyard because it picks up a better signal from there. Which is brilliant, until rains too much {cough} we don’t get a signal. Yes, it rains fairly often. (see Fair Weather Friend)

So. Homemade yogurt. Something I probably would have never dreamed of attempting, but when you have an Irish dairy on your doorstep and the nearest supermarket is 3/4′s of an hour away, it makes no sense whatsoever NOT to milk it. This post is not groundbreaking. There are already bags of other food blogs + websites featuring DIY yogurt. It’s like a bubbling pot of live bacteria out there. So, I am not going to claim that my version is the best, but I do know that our 6 year old prefers it over fromage frais which is nothing short of monumental. I personally think the trick is vanilla bean. Takes down that tang.

And, besides the cracking taste; other mightly fine reasons for making your own yoghurt are:

1. It’s healthier as it contains no extra preservatives, sugars or additives {i.e. gobbledy-gook}
2. It’s less expensive {even if you’re not farming}
3. It’s friendlier to the environment {no trees will be harmed}

As far as the granola, it’s as simple as A. my go-to gorgeous Kilbeggan Oats roasted with B. my beekeeping father-in-law’s happy honey, and C. a few other nutty & seedy bits and bobs thrown in for good measure. Of course, you can use any brand of oats and honey from the shop or market. Easy peasy.

Sharing these recipes can only mean I’ve formally become “crunchy” right?  Okay, maybe halfsies; I did go out to a fancy city dinner wearing makeup and Michael Kors last week, so perhaps I’m just a partial granola girl.

Either way, I’m down with it.

Are you?

Farmhouse Yoghurt

2 Liters or 1/2 gallon of milk

(I use full fat from our dairy for a delightfully creamy result,

but you can buy organic milk of any fat content from the

market as well)

125 ml/ ½ cup of plain yogurt

(to be used a starter, store-bought & must have “live bacteria

cultures” on label)

1 teaspoon vanilla pod seeds

Stainless steel saucepan

Candy Thermometer

Over low heat, slowly bring the milk up to 77°C/170°F in saucepan with a candy thermometer. Do not allow the milk to boil at any time. Once your milk reaches 77°C/170°F, turn off the heat and bring the temperature back down to 43°C/110°F. Once your milk has reached 43°C/110°F, stir a little bit of the warm milk into the 125 ml/½ cup of plain yogurt.

Pour the milk and yogurt mixture into to the saucepan and gently stir them together. Stir in vanilla seeds.

Now it is time to incubate the yogurt. You will need to keep it at a temperature of about 110°F for the next 4-10 hours. The length of time will depend on how thick and tangy you want your yogurt. The longer it sits at this warm temperature, the firmer and tangier it will get. Check the yogurt at the 4 hour mark for a taste and texture test, if you are pleased you can move onto chilling.

I recommend putting the lid onto the saucepan of yogurt, wrapping it up in towels and placing into an oven which was preheated to 50°C/120°F and then turned off. (You can try to maintain the heat in the oven by leaving the light on, which can generate enough heat to keep the yogurt active, but I find keeping the pan cosy in towels should do the trick). All ovens are not the same so play it by ear. I have also read about using a crock-pot, heating pad or, of course, a yogurt maker as well.

When the desired time is up, place the yogurt in the fridge to chill. After the yogurt is completely chilled, stir. There may be a film over the top, which you can eat or simply remove. Pour yogurt into airtight containers and store. (remember to save some to use as your next starter.) Then poon into a dish, cover in granola & fresh berries and DEVOUR.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen x

Photos and Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: Bord Bia, city, country life, farmette, granola, honey, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, Irish Food Bloggers Association, Irish food photography, irish foodies, Irish Times, Kilbeggan oats, Kinfolk, Michael Kors, yogurt

As I write this, the bread that you see in the above photo is quietly baking away in the oven. It is my brown bread candidate number ….emmm, I’ve lost track.  You see, it is not my first attempt at baking the perfect loaf of brown bread. In fact, it is one of many—today, and in a few more minutes, it will hopefully prove to be my final and triumphant crack at tackling the mystery of spectacular brown bread. This time, I pulled out all the stops. Yes, this loaf is running for the “President of the Brown Bread” here at our house. I’ve compiled recipes from Irish cookery books, bakers, relatives, even the back of a bag of Odlums flour. I’ve put on my imaginary lab coat and horn-rimmed glasses, evaluated my successes and failures and created a strategy. This attempt, I used a combination of farm honey, egg, buttermilk with three flours and baking soda. I also sprinkled the heck out of it with some magic fairy dust just for good measure.

There is a reason for all this madness. I have received no less than forty email requests for the “best brown bread recipe” that I’ve lost count, and it was time for me to do a little research and finally bake up a proper loaf for myself.

Irish brown wheaten bread {aka brown soda bread}, the one that is always served alongside those gorgeous velvety vegetable-based soups at pubs and cafes around the country is, as far as I can see, one of, if not thee most, cherished taste memories that tourists acquire when visiting Ireland. That unique nutty flavor with a crumbly, yet moist texture that plane loads of people long for after they’ve returned to their cosy homes abroad. I would very much like to create that same taste memory for our guests when they stay with us as well.

Don’t get me wrong; I have taken my share of homemade brown bread out of the oven when we have visitors. But, it’s no secret that somehow the morning slice served in our kitchen will not compare to what will be gobbled up later in the day when we are having lunch virtually anywhere else in the country. I must add that I am not afraid of bread making, in fact, I very much enjoy it. Over the last two years I have tried my skills at many styles of bread, and to my delight, have had mostly successes. Still, the perfect loaf of brown soda bread has eluded me.

Of course, I too, have a particular taste memory in mind when it comes to how this perfect bread should be. It can vary from establishment to establishment: some serve it more crumbly and dry, some moist, some adorned with oat flakes, some pale in colour and others more a deep rich brown, some seem grainy, some more firm, but my favourite is more cake-y with a slightly sweet aftertaste which I love. {I won’t drop any names, but that special flavour may or may not have been experienced in County Waterford}

In my attempts this week, I have tested several recipes. All of which are simple and all of which include bread soda, yet have quite a few variations. I have tried stone ground wholemeal flour, coarse ground wholemeal flour, a mix of stoneground wholemeal flour and cream flour, and plain whole meal flour. I’ve added bran. I’ve added wheatgerm. I have used fresh buttermilk and cultured buttermilk. I’ve included and not included black treacle, golden syrup and honey. I’ve sprinkled and not sprinkled.  Egged and not egged.

Only one version has hit the nail right on the head…and, it wasn’t that beautiful hopeful at the top of the page.

Finally….allow me to introduce: The President of Brown Bread in our kitchen.

This is not “my” recipe, it is “a” recipe for Irish Brown Bread using a combination of ingredients that are typical to traditional soda bread recipes, and for me, it has that perfect brown bread flavor and texture.

I am silly shocked and proud as punch that this blog has just been nominated for Saveur Magazine’s Best Regional Cuisine Food Blog of 2012. There is so much to celebrate in traditional Irish food, and as you can probably tell, it makes me very happy to share. Yipppppppeeeeeeee! Here is a link to more information and also where you can vote. The winners will be announced on May 3rd. There are bags of amazing blogs to peruse, so take your time and your appetite and have a good peek. Thank you so much for all of your support and readership! xoxox

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos and Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: brown bread, farm, Farming, foodie, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish brown bread, Irish country living, Irish food photography, irish foodies, King Arthur, love, Odlums, Red Mill, Saveur Blog Awards 2012, Saveur magazine, traditional irish food, Waterford, Wise Words

Naturally, I had to crack the clotted cream. It was only a matter of time. My reasoning? Well, we do live on a dairy farm for god’s sake. The only question remaining is: what on earth took me so long. After dipping into a tub made by a fellow farmerette at a recent photo shoot, there was no stopping me.  To put it plainly, the flavour and texture of homemade clotted cream is absolute pure ambrosia.

The first time I tasted clotted cream was at a little afternoon tea party that I organised for a dear friend’s engagement. It took place in the very unlikely, but ultimately ohhh sooo perfect, Murray’s Steakhouse “Home of the Silver Butterknife Steak”. Murray’s is a supper club and cocktail lounge in downtown Minneapolis which opened in the 40′s and is so authentically retro that the dining room is darkly lit even during their lunchtime service. As I recall, the main room is adorned in mirrored walls, chandeliers, salmon pink draperies, and wall to wall carpet with art deco patterning. I wanted to plan something really unforgettable, and just knew Rebecca would love a bit of a mad tea party with all of her girls. Murray’s was the only place that offered such a service at the time. Don’t ask me why.

We all showed up in our frocks and sipped tea and champagne, pawed at dainty cucumber sandwiches and gobbled down white scones with clotted cream and jam in the lowly lit room for over two hours. It was not The Plaza, and no one wore white gloves, but it sure was divine.

After I was living in Ireland for a couple of years, I decided it would be nice idea to invite my mother and sister-in-law to an afternoon tea at Adare Manor. We arrived to the 1800’s Neo-Gothic estate and were seated in the tea rooms. From where I was sitting there was a picture window introducing a view of the most tremendous formal gardens behind one shoulder, and an enormous hearth fireplace that seemed so large that one could stand inside of it, beyond the other. A very reserved waiter served us Darjeeling tea with light egg + cress, salmon + crème fraiche, and ham sandwiches along with delicate cakes, scones, and petit fours. We were all spoiled with clotted cream on that day as well.

Today, I am in my very own kitchen with a pinny making clotted cream from scratch. Didn’t see that happening in my lifetime, but must admit, I am delighted with my success. It’s not difficult, but when you make it for the first time, it’s very easy to get the feeling that it’s not working. I also made the mistake of thinking that the cream underneath the crust was the actually clotted cream. It is not. That crusty golden top is just that, pure gold.

Clotted cream is not Irish, but I would venture to say it features on all formal afternoon tea menus across this fine country. It is mostly associated with dairy from the southwestern part of England; and in particular the counties of Cornwall and Devon. In fact, Cornish Clotted Cream is another one of those protected foods (PDO) so long as the cream is from Cornwall.

My clotted cream proudly comes from milk from our happy Irish Dunmoylan cows, but you don’t need a dairy farm to make it from scratch. If you can get unpasteurized, unhomogenised cream from a local dairy that would be ideal, but if not, use double or heavy organic whipping cream.  Don’t ask yourself why you’re making clotted cream, just do it. And bring it to a friend’s house with homemade scones on a sunny afternoon, it’s a slice of heaven.

Homemade Clotted Cream

Preheat oven to 100C/200F

1000ml/4 cups double or heavy cream (unpasteurised is best)

Pour the cream into a heavy bottom shallow pan. I used a stainless steel roasting pan.

Put it in the oven

And, forget about it for 8-10 hours

When it is done, it will have a thick golden crust forming on the top, like this

Take it out of the oven and let it sit in a cool place for 10-12 hours

Remove the “clouted” top with a slatted spoon, put into jar(s) and place in refrigerator for 2-3 hours

The clotted cream will last for 3-4 days

You can use the reserved cream underneath for other purposes if you wish…such as baking scones!

Slather on scones with jam.

{you will thank me}

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photos + Styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: Adare Manor, clotted cream, Cornwall, country life, Devon, farm, farmer, Farming, foodies, Garrendenny Lane, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, love, murray's steakhouse, scones, tea, The Plaza

Spring has sprung on the craggy isle and riding along with it the familiar niggling notion that we’d better get sowing and hoeing.  Bit by bit, we’ve put together a garden plan which sounds really clever and grown-up, but basically involves two adult children sitting at a kitchen table scratching heads, scribbling notes, drawing makeshift pictures with crayons, vehemently disagreeing, and then once again concluding that Richard {i.e. stick person with wellies} will plant his potatoes and onions and I {i.e. stick person with a skirt} will carry on with the rest which will undoubtedly be far too many varieties in his “humble opinion”.

We are trying to be sensible and learn from previous years; what’s working {luckily, almost everything especially potatoes}, what to plant where, what didn’t grow {asparagus}, what grew too much for us to eat or store {squash, radishes} and the everlasting conundrum: how to keep the dogs, birds and insects from damaging the beautiful seeds of our labour.

This year, I think I have procured my best selection of seeds yet: among others-salsify, yellow strawberries, boston lettuce, white beets, mustard greens and most exciting for me: artichoke. Plucking the petals of a steamed artichoke and plunging them into a cup of creamy lemon mayonnaise or scooping up zesty dollops of artichoke ramekin using crusty chunks of baguette are two of my favourite summertime sports. Needless to say, I will be over the moon if the artichokes are a success as they are impossible to source in Irish markets.

We have also been trying to decide on adding raised beds or sticking with our tried and true, good old-fashioned ground beds. Lately the running pun is “to raise or not to raise”….which is nobler?

We moved into our own home on the farm in 2007 and planted our first kitchen garden two years later after completing a brilliant organic growing course booked through the Organic Centre and hosted by Jim Cronin at his farm in County Clare. Of course, Richard had some experience with growing his own vegetables when he was younger, but I certainly didn’t, and since the course was based on organic growing I figured it would be a great learning experience for us both.

Jim Cronin is a gentle, salt-of-the-earth farmer who believes in using basic principals for growing, even employing horsepower in lieu of fuel-powered machinery. He has been growing vegetables for over twenty years and his farm is certified to organic standards. He is a fountain of knowledge and a real congenial fella who taught us a lot and sent us home inspired.

The thing is, I distinctly remember Jim advising the class not to bother with raised beds; explaining that they were more cosmetic than anything and that they could potentially attract more pests to the garden, and by pests he meant SLUGS. It is altogether possible that I have recalled this very fact because he mentioned it during the lunch break, specifically when I was shoveling a forkful of his wife’s amazing shredded carrot salad into my mouth. Richard finished my plate.

Still, each time I see or read about a garden with raised beds, I can’t shake the idea that they would be easier to organise and maintain since we are not growing on acres of crops {I promise, we’re not!}. It would also be hard to deny that they might look a bit more attractive than our ground plot.  I decided to ask around for opinions, both professional and personal, to see who exactly was using raised beds, and why or why not?

Generally speaking, nearly everyone I spoke to was in favour of raised beds. Many reasons were given, most commonly: they are easier to weed, they provide better drainage, weeding can be kinder on the back muscles, not having access to good ground soil, living in the city so no other option for urban gardeners, and yes, {cough} because they look nice.

So, all things considered, we’ve decided to go ahead with the raised beds this year. And, since they look relatively easy to construct, I’m thinking I may just roll up my sleeves and do them myself.

Here is a recipe for one of my absolute favourite artichoke indulgences. It is the closest thing to the legendary Loring Cafe Artichoke Ramekin that I have tested.  It is creamy, zesty, garlic-y, artichoke-y heaven. I have many, many fond memories of sitting on the Loring patio sipping glasses of chilled Muscadet and devouring ramekins of this baked artichoke dip on sunny Saturday afternoons with a lively table of friends. Sadly, the original Loring is no longer there, but the Artichoke Ramekin will still live on here on the farm, so long as our artichokes are a success! {note: you can use jarred artichokes for this recipe and some think it’s even better than fresh}

Slan Abhaile,

Imen xx

Photo by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: American, artichoke, artichoke ramekin, farm, Farming, foodies, GIY, growing, I Married An Irish Farmer, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, Irish country living, Irish food photography, irish foodies, Minneapolis, Muscadet, raised beds, the Loring

Yip, I’ll admit it.  I was once a bona fide corned beef-n-cabbage, green beer sipping girl. Each St. Patrick’s Day, without fail, me and a posse of friends would head out to at least one Irish pub each year on the 17^th of March, and happily belly up to a hot paper plate of corned beef and watery cabbage with a side order of green tainted lager…or two {hic}.

It was a ritual, never gave much thought as to why we would do such a thing, we just did….and ohhh, was it fun. Fast forward to life in Ireland where the closest thing to corned beef is that chunk of spiced beef found in the supermarkets at Christmas time or another option resembling something very close to SPAM. My first truly Irish St. Patrick’s Day celebration at the farm probably confirmed my father in law’s suspicions that I was mad when I asked if he had ever eaten corned beef on St. Paddy’s Day. And, while I have come to grips with no longer enjoying corned beef served out of a Nesco on the Day, I have yet to work through the 5 stages of grieving my beloved corned beef and swiss on rye for lunch.

Nowadays, Paddy’s parties are a bit more civilized for myself and our family. We tend to go to the local afternoon parade and then come home and have our “tea” (tea = supper on the farm); a picnic of whatever cold cuts, cheeses, spreads, vegetables I’ve picked up from the farmer’s market along with a quick baked loaf of brown soda bread and a little dessert. I’ve written a piece for the Dean & Deluca Gourmet Food Blog about that first St. Patrick’s Day experience and also what delicious Irish eats we’ll have this year, have a look and see.

This weekend we also celebrate another holiday in Ireland: Mother’s Day! Yes, Mother’s Day is in March, not May on the craggy green isle. Therefore, I am entitled to two special days, in theory. Not so much on paper or in real life, but the option is there if ever a certain farmer would like to be generous {cough cough}.

One of the best parts about Spring in Ireland has to be fresh rhubarb. Rhubarb compote, rhubarb ice cream, rhubarb clafoutis, rhubarb cake, rhubarb muffins, rhubarb crumble and a personal favourite, my very special rhubarb pudding. This recipe for rhubarb pudding came about by happenstance a few years back when I realized I didn’t have oatmeal for my spring rhubarb-berry crumble to bring to the farm for Easter dinner. I had made the oaty version for Mother’s Day the first year I was here and everyone really loved it, especially Grandma whose compliments were ever so heartwarming. I was asked to bring it again for Easter that year, but that morning I suddenly realized we didn’t have the oats to make the crumbly part so I sub’d flour and came out with a cakey, cobbly, crispy on top, cray cray good rhubarb…umm, pudding.  I brought it to dinner and we ate it for dessert with dollops of vanilla yogurt and everyone said it was even better than the crumble. {yippee!}

I submitted my recipe which I named “Farmhouse Spring Pudding” to Sweet Paul magazine’s “Happy Dish” competition last month and he chose it for his Spring 2012 issue, which is online now! I am still pinching myself. I love, love, love reading Sweet Paul; his motto is “ chasing the sweet things in life” and the magazine always lives up to that….beautifully designed and filled with easy + elegant recipes, fun + stylish crafts, entertaining ideas, shopping tips and more.  Pour yourself a cup of tea and give it a good browse when you have some time. Here is a link to the recipe (mag photo and styling by Sweet Paul) and another link to the NY Times Diner’s Journal who also enjoyed reading about my “rhubarb cake”! Give it a go when your rhubarb roosts and let me know how you like it =)

Have a Happy St. Patrick’s & Mother’s Day!

Slan Abhaile,

Imen xx

Photos and styling by Imen McDonnell 2012

Tags: American, Dean and DeLuca, farm, farmer, food, foodie, foodies, I Married An Irish Farmer, ireland, Irish, Irish food photography, married a farmer, Mother's Day, Spring Farmhouse Pudding, St. Patrick's Day, St. Patrick's Day recipes, Sweet Paul magazine