tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:/blogs/mick-s-blog-recipes-book-reviews-etc?p=2
Mick's Blog: recipes, book reviews, etc
2019-05-05T00:27:00-06:00
Colcannon
false
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4738077
2017-06-08T11:16:01-06:00
2023-08-31T13:10:38-06:00
Book Review: The Glorious Heresies by Lisa McInerney
<p><span class="text-big"><strong><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/20fada5da9816077cd6056cedecaa44574a43cc4/small/images.jpeg?1496942046" class="size_s justify_left border_" />The Glorious Heresies </strong></span></p><p><span class="text-big"><i>Lisa McInerney </i></span></p><p>Tim Duggan Books 2015 pp. 389</p><p>On St. Patrick’s Day this year we played a concert in Scottsbluff, NE and were also asked to do an outreach at the local correctional facility. This was a new departure for us and though we didn’t know what to expect we were eager to try something new and see how our music went down. I remember at the time looking out at our fairly small audience — maybe fifty people — and thinking to myself, “I’m not really sure there are any actually bad people out there.” True, the audience was, in all likelihood, made up of fairly low-level offenders who were well-behaved. Some of the women seemed to show the ravages of meth use and some of the men may have been in for some form of violence and I was pretty sure that harm had been done to innocent people along the way. But I was inclined to believe that what was before me had more to do with lack of living skills, lack of good examples than with evil hearts. I mention all of this because, at the time, I was reminded of this book by Lisa McInerney. </p><p>This is a morally complex book with characters ranging from shady to stygian. There’s murder, prostitution, drug-dealing, alcoholism, poverty and yet there’s also redemption on many fronts and for all the moral grime there’s love and honor and something resembling nobility. </p><p>The book opens with a mutual seduction scene between fifteen-year-old Ryan and his new girlfriend, Karine D’Arcy. The rush of excitement, the nervousness, the lust and affection are captured perfectly — I was totally won over by the writing from the first page. This relationship between Ryan and Karine is central to the book and proves an enduring and inspiring partnership. </p><p>The second chapter details the murder of an intruder into the home of the mother of one of the city’s more brutal crime bosses. The mother, Maureen, barely escaped being placed in a Magdalen Laundry some forty year earlier and had her son taken away from her. That son, Jimmy Phelan, in mid-life had searched for his mother and found her in London and brought her back to Cork where the action takes place. Maureen views herself as a kind of angel of redemption and does away with the intruder by hitting him over the head with the Holy Stone — a rock painted gaudily with an image of the Virgin, acquired at some shrine. This murder sets in motion a series of events that affects the main characters in the book — Ryan the drug-dealer; Georgie, the teenage prostitute and drug addict who tried to save herself by joining a religious cult; Ryan’s alcoholic father who doesn’t know how to save his son … </p><p>While a lot of recent books, it seems, tell their story from multiple viewpoints, this one has one one, omniscient narrator who doesn’t immediately reveal the identity of the person being written about. So, when you think of Ryan’s father as a brutal alcoholic based on Ryan’s thoughts, you then hear the thoughts of a sympathetic character — who turns out to be Ryan’s father. This is not a gimmick, though — more the idea of walking in someone else’s shoes and an illustration of how we can fail to see each other clearly. </p><p>The language is a little difficult at times. It can be brutal but is more often wonderfully poetic. It’s also often darkly hilarious. There’s a certain amount of slang that I wasn’t familiar with because slang is always changing and because places such as Cork have some of their own peculiar patois that you may not hear in other parts of Ireland. It’s a delicious read, though and full of aching humanity.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4503159
2016-12-08T19:52:29-07:00
2024-02-02T11:53:04-07:00
Book Review: Hillbilly Elegy
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/7b78a01a8f2a39cd0e7dbcff14b6dda31ec64e0a/small/hillbilly.jpeg?1481251885" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><span class="text-big">Hillbilly Elegy</span><br><i>J.D. Vance </i><br>Harper, 2016 <br>272 pp.<br><br>I’ve gone ‘round a few times, debating with myself whether to write this review or to stay with fiction. Fiction is safer and it’s easier to write about because not so much is at stake. At the most fundamental level there can be a lot of fact-checking to do; at a more complicated level (especially these days) there can be a whole political/idealogical level to deal with. </p><p>When I went to university in England in the mid-70s, there were the usual bugaboos of racism and sexism and the more complex problem of classism. The virtues of the working class were extolled and qualities pertaining to the middle and upper classes were, if not vilified, then certainly seen as less authentic. My own appreciation of folksong and music from the lower classes and the warm, non-judgmental reception I met with from working-class people in general, led me to a similar affection. At a time in my life when I felt it more important to be judged on my own apparent merits — did I buy my round? could I tell a good joke? could I thrust and parry verbally with the best of them? — all of that meant more to me than people asking me about my ambitions and prospects. </p><p>After university in England I came to America and found it confusing. Two things I noticed straight away. There were no small eggs sold in the supermarket — the scale started at medium — and there was no working class. There were ‘the rich’, the ‘middle-class’ and … well … ‘the poor’. It seemed to me that the poor were kind of written off. This, after all, was America and if people were poor it was mostly their own fault. We lived in an aspirational society and these people, for some reason, didn’t aspire to be middle-class. This, of course, was happening in the UK as well. On the death of Margaret Thatcher, the MP Glenda Jackson spoke of the “heinous social, economic and spiritual damage” done by Thatcher’s policies and how the aspirational society was aspirational for things, that greed and selfishness were valued above caring and looking after people. Margaret Thatcher was the one who said, after all, that “there is no such thing as society”. The motto here in the US ran along the lines of “greed is good”. </p><p>And so here we are with Vance’s book and the Monday morning quarterbacking of why the Democrats so unexpectedly lost the 2016 presidential election. For some obvious reasons focus has been pointed at rural America and the disaffected people living there. For less obvious reasons a particular focus has been shone on Appalachia and the endemic poverty and social problems to be found there. </p><p>Vance declares in ‘Hillbilly Elegy’ that the problem is cultural, not economic and his litany of abusive dysfunction is horrifying. Domestic violence, drug and alcohol addiction and poverty on a major scale are everyday facts of life. People, he says, spend themselves into the poorhouse buying bigscreen TVs, iPads etc.. in an attempt to have the goods of the world — often with credit cards at exorbitant rates. The pointlessness of life leads to all kinds of substance abuse and the problem is perpetuated by a lack of any kind of role models. He, however, was lucky in having the support of his grandparents who were firm believers in education, while all the time being pulled down by an addicted mother and a revolving cast of father figures, almost none of whom had anything to offer. In the end he escapes his old life and ends up graduating from Yale Law. It’s not surprising then, that this book has a strong tone of ‘bootstrappery’ about it — a sense that it’s not the government’s job to make your life better; that you need to get a grip on this and raise yourself up. </p><p>A similar examination of the ‘working class white’ problem is discussed in an article posted online by Forzetti: On Rural America: Understanding Isn’t The Problem. In this article particular blame is placed on a rigid, unaccommodating Christian fundamentalism that denies these people the intellectual tools to assess their situation with any clarity and to rid themselves of the fear of a rapidly changing world. </p><p>I’m uncomfortable with these (and other similar) analyses. Something is being lost in these communities, something that we may not recognize until it’s gone. I’m not sure what it is, but it seems that a sense of dignity and their own value has been robbed from these people. Hillbilly Elegy is often quite a moving book, and I’m glad of it’s generosity of spirit even while it is merciless in its evaluation of its world. Meanwhile I’m wondering if I have a right to any opinion on all of this. I can hear the catcalls of ’liberal guilt’ and the scoffing at the idea that I know anything about that world or that I have any right to an opinion. But Vance’s book has given me long pause and I’ll be thinking about it for some time. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4407308
2016-10-06T13:45:49-06:00
2022-08-13T05:34:35-06:00
Some books
<p>I’ve not been keeping up with my reading of late. At least, not with my fiction reading. The pile I want to get to is getting higher all the time and includes books I’ve wanted to read for years. Instead I’ve found myself reading nonfiction and science books. </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/9a565244c4c3f4407b883e3221b52bb429fabbea/small/mindset.jpeg?1475782828" class="size_s justify_left border_" />The first of these is <em>Mindset - The New Psychology of Success</em>. I was intrigued when I heard the author, Carol Dweck, speak on a TED RadioHour on NPR. The book is some 240 pages and though it contains a lot of anecdotes of the “Jane was 26 and having a lot of problems at her job” sort, many of these are quite enlightening and help to illustrate the main thesis viz. that telling kids that they’re smart or talented tends to put them in a fixed mindset, a belief that ‘you have it or you don’t’. This makes kids — and adults, too — reluctant to take chances and afraid to try things in case of being caught out as less than they are thought to be. On the other hand, there is a mindset that says ability can be improved through work and practice and can be a source of enjoyment rather than something that needs to be proved. This might seem obvious to most people but, again, one of the advantages of the anecdotes is to see that we may not be as growth-minded as we would like to believe. It’s a fascinating read and one that has illuminated certain parts of my life for the better. </p>
<p><em>How We Learn</em> by Benedict Carey is also an illuminating book. A couple of the ideas I was already vaguely <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/b40543e7c651055c24254388a06e09f476049b83/small/how-we-learn.jpeg?1475782954" class="size_s justify_right border_" />familiar with from works by people such as Tony Buzan — ideas such as repeating learning at timed intervals — but this book is much more in-depth as to the science behind the learning process. Some of the information is counter-intuitive e.g. the old bromide about working in a quiet space, set aside for that purpose, to be worked in at assigned times — is wrong on all counts. We learn better with ‘distractions’ around and when we vary the time and the place of our learning. The ‘learning machine’ that is the brain, is still only barely understood but it’s proving to be very eccentric and quirky instrument — and way smarter than we’d thought. </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/978753d8302f90951597e71e9fff050205fe79f4/small/the-canon.jpeg?1475783086" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><em>The Canon, a whirligig tour of the beautiful basics of Science</em>, by Natalie Angier has chapters on such topics as Thinking Scientifically, Probabilities, Calibration: playing with scales, Physics, Chemistry etc., each dealing with a different aspect of Science and all mind-boggling. The chapter called Calibration, for instance, examines scale from the tiny, tiny atomic, with its vast distance between objects relative to their size, to the hugeness of the universe — also with it’s vast distances between things. She points out that it’s relatively rare in the scheme of things to have anything much happening on the in-between scale where we happen to exist. </p>
<p>I’m still reading this one — and I may well re-read. There’s a lot of fascinating information here, but there’s also a philosophical bent to it — a recognition that science is a method, an endless question, a philosophical pursuit. That science is a verb. </p>
<p>The end of all this, is that the universe is seen as something of exquisite beauty and tantalizing mystery.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4407306
2016-10-06T13:36:13-06:00
2024-03-02T02:56:35-07:00
Song Profile: Mary from Dungloe
<p>This song is on our CD, <i>Saint Bartholemew’s Feast</i> and, though it’s not one we perform a lot, it’s one that I have a great affection for. It’s a Donegal song and it’s one that my father was likely to sing snatches of now and then. The first recording I heard of it was in 1968 by Emmet Spiceland, a trio formed by the amalgamation of two folk groups in 1967 — The Spicelanders and The Emmet Folk Group. The Spicelanders were two brothers, Michael and Brian Byrne and the Emmet Folk Group was Donal Lunney, Brian Bolger (no relation) and Mick Moloney. There were many comings and goings in the band but the line-up that recorded ‘Mary’ was Donal Lunney and the Byrne brothers. The song was written in the mid-1800s by a Donegalman — as both the name of the song and the references to The Rosses and Gweedore will attest — called Pádraig MacCumhall. </p><p>The song went to #1 on the Irish charts in February 1968 and the modish Emmet Spiceland were the object of Beatlemania-like adoration from fans. They were young, good-looking and trendy. Their musical style was soft, acoustic with lush harmonies and, later on, light orchestration. Groups such as Peter, Paul and Mary and The Kingston Trio were obvious influences and a savvy management company put its marketing skills to good use, making the band huge in Ireland. </p><p>Their fashionable and cool affect did much to make folk music trendy and their arrangements — especially those made later by Donal Lunney — were (and remain) hugely influential. This was all very fashionable and really kind of fleeting but it set the groundwork for what was to follow. Lunney wasn’t in the band for very long and went on to duties in Planxty, Bothy Band and Moving Hearts — all legends in Irish folk music history. Other members went on to music and other careers — Mick Moloney, in particular, found fame in the Johnstons and later as an admired academic in the folklore field. </p><p>There were other bands at the time doing similar things, Sweeney’s Men had a grittier sound and a good deal of Americana in their repertoire. Skara Brae had a very jazz-influenced take on old songs in Irish. It was plain, in retrospect, that something was going on as far as Irish folk musicians trying to find a definition of themselves, some coherent identity. And, within a few short years, many of the members of the above groups were founders or members of Planxty, Bothy Band, The Pogues — three different takes on traditional music but all profoundly Irish and all much more muscular than earlier forays into the tradition. </p><p>But quite apart from the fact that the recording from Emmet Spiceland was in many ways seminal, their version of Mary from Dungloe was especially nice. The band’s next single was Báidín Fhéilimí, a song sung unapologetically in Irish. This, too, was a big hit. A lot of people were learning about the old tradition and realizing that it wasn’t a drawling miseryfest but a tradition of great beauty and spirit. It wasn’t one of the big songs and is not particularly original but it does have lovely directness, a sorrow in its heart, spoken plainly. </p><p>Colcannon hasn’t done anything particularly unusual with the song. It is, like some many songs of the type, best sung straight ahead. There are lines in it that may be found in other songs — the last verse is found in many songs with the girl’s name changed appropriately. There are many versions available online but if you’re looking for it, be sure not to get the song confused with the annual festival of the same name. </p><p>So, here’s the version by <a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lSYk4v1wk0" data-link-type="url" contents="Emmet Spiceland">Emmet Spiceland</a> and here’s one by <a class="no-pjax" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WXj45895Bo" data-link-type="url" contents="Colcannon">Colcannon</a>. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4360625
2016-09-07T10:13:11-06:00
2024-01-09T07:04:29-07:00
Book Review: A Drink before the War
<p><span class="text-big"><strong><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/2f0ce8f3c296e00e158b25484199a9fd38ee0e89/small/drink.jpeg?1473264762" class="size_s justify_left border_" />A Drink Before The War </strong></span><br><i>Dennis Lehane </i></p><p>This is the book that made Lehane’s reputation. It won the Shamus Award the year it was published (1994) and introduces the PI duo of Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro. I’d not read any Lehane before this and, though I’d heard a lot about his work, I was a little hesitant. I’d heard his books described as ‘gritty’ — which often means violent and which is not particularly my preferred style — though it can be carried off very well. His historical novel, <i>The Given Day</i>, was met with very positive reviews and was heralded as proof that Lehane was a fine writer and had moved “far beyond the confines of the crime genre”. I’m a little suspicious of mystery writers that are hailed a ‘good writers’. They seem to want to live up to the accolade and have a tendency thereafter to produce large, ponderous tomes. Not what I want in a mystery. I do like my characters to be three-dimensional and complex so that I care about them and their doings but P.D. James, for instance, produced wonderful mysteries before becoming too enamored of the inner life of Adam Dalgleish. </p><p>So, I started reading and the style is brisk and moves along at a nice clip. The narrator, Patrick Kenzie, is chatty and self-deprecating in a wise-guy sort of way but charming and insightful, too. He notes, for instance: “That's the thing about being a victim; you start to think it'll happen to you on a regular basis. It's living with the reality of your own vulnerability, and it sucks.” </p><p>We get the set-up for the story — some Boston politicians want him to recover some documents that were pilfered by a cleaning lady from the office of one of them. The fee is generous and the job looks to be straightforward. And from there the plot thickens. </p><p>The main character, Patrick Kenzie, is the son of a Boston hero fireman, whose fame and brutality have overshadowed the life of his son. His partner, Angela Gennaro, is a childhood friend and is married to Phil, also a one-time childhood friend and now a serial wife-beater. (Family abuse features quite a lot in this book). There is an awkward sexual chemistry between Kenzie and Gennaro that is only made more awkward and annoying by Kenzie’s flirting, wise-guy, macho posturing. For a while I really started to dislike him. But when Angela puts her foot down and as the story becomes more serious Kenzie gets a grip on his harassing ways and the relationship matures into one of mutual respect and grown-up behavior. This was a risk on Lehane’s part and, though my description of it is simplistic, it’s carried off very convincingly and it was a turning point in the book for me. </p><p>There’s plenty of local color in the book not to mention corrupt pols, gang warfare, child abuse, race relations and violence. But it’s an engaging book and the pundits were right — Lehane can really write. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4360624
2016-09-07T10:10:05-06:00
2022-03-22T02:28:00-06:00
Recipe: Chicken Thighs Dijon Style
<p><strong><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/ffe1aad2f13fb4646a94589bebd60f914aac0603/medium/cuisses.jpg?1473264559" class="size_m justify_left border_" />Chicken Thighs Dijon Style </span></strong></p>
<p>I got this recipe from a cookbook by Jacques Burdick called French Cooking En Famille (1989). The blurb on the front by M.F.K. Fisher sold me on it and, though it’s a bit tattered and spattered, I sometimes like to pick it up just for the writing. I find Elizabeth Davis to be much the same way — I’m quite happy to read her observations on food and of her interest in life. </p>
<p>This is a great Autumn dish, rich and comforting but one can still imagine eating it outdoors on a warm afternoon in the grape arbor. </p>
<p>I’ve increased the amount of herbs from the original. The measurements below are the original for the recipe but I usually use about ½ lb of mushrooms and one large white onion, coarsely chopped. So, here it is: </p>
<p><strong><span class="font_large">Les Cuisses de Poulet a la Dijonnaise </span></strong></p>
<p><strong>6 - 8 plump chicken thighs — trimmed and skinned if you want </strong></p>
<p><strong>1 Tablespoon of kosher salt </strong></p>
<p><strong>1 Tablespoon of coarsely ground black pepper </strong></p>
<p><strong>1 teaspoon dried thyme </strong></p>
<p><strong>1 teaspoon of crumbled marjoram </strong></p>
<p><strong>3 Tablespoons of sweet butter </strong></p>
<p><strong>3 Tablespoons of vegetable oil </strong></p>
<p><strong>¼ cup of dijon mustard </strong></p>
<p><strong>6 - 8 large white mushrooms or equivalent (I use about ½ lb. small white ‘shrooms) </strong></p>
<p><strong>4 small white onions (I use one large white onion, coarsely chopped.) </strong></p>
<p><strong>3 plump garlic cloves, peeled </strong></p>
<p><strong>½ cup dry white wine </strong></p>
<p><strong>½ cup heavy cream </strong></p>
<p>Preheat the oven to 350º </p>
<p>Sprinkle and rub into the chicken with the salt, pepper, thyme and marjoram. </p>
<p>Heat the butter and oil and brown the chicken </p>
<p>Place the chicken in a foil lined pan and brush liberally with dijon mustard </p>
<p>Place in the middle rack of the oven and bake for about 40 mins. </p>
<p>Slice the mushrooms and chop the onion coarsely (if using one large onion; if using small onions, quarter them.) Peel and slice the garlic. </p>
<p>Dredge the mushrooms, onions and garlic in the flour. (If you want this dish to be gluten-free just skip this.) </p>
<p>Depending on the amount of fat in the pan, either discard some or add more — if you leave the skin on the chicken there’ll be plenty of fat. </p>
<p>Toss the vegetables in the hot fat, scraping the bottom of the pan and cook on low heat for about 10 minutes. </p>
<p>Add the wine and deglaze. Cook for another couple of minutes. </p>
<p>Add the cream and cook on low until the sauce thickens, remove from the heat and stir in any left-over dijon mustard. </p>
<p>Strain the vegetables out of the sauce and place in the bottom of a buttered serving dish. </p>
<p>Place the thighs on top of the vegetables </p>
<p>Pour the sauce over the thighs. </p>
<p>You can now brown the dish under the broiler if you want. </p>
<p>Burdick recommends sautéed green beans and buttered rice as accompaniments. And, of course there’s that bottle of white wine to be finished. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4309075
2016-08-03T19:43:08-06:00
2024-02-02T12:10:35-07:00
The Daily Haiku
<p>If you’re familiar with our Facebook page or our Twitter, you’ll be familiar with the daily haiku. Every day we post an original haiku, sometimes referring to things that are happening with the band and sometimes, it’s just about whatever happens to come into my ken at the time. I had once (pre-Twitter) had a practice of writing haiku a day for several years, so the idea of taking up the practice again didn’t phase me, and the form seemed uniquely suited to the 140 character restriction. We thought it might be a nice way of touching base with our fans without wittering on about ourselves all the time. And so it began. </p><p>At first, the haiku were fairly to the point. The first one read: </p><p style="text-align:center;">when November comes </p><p style="text-align:center;">we play Seattle, Whidbey </p><p style="text-align:center;">and Centralia </p><p>another: </p><p style="text-align:center;">birthdays today for </p><p style="text-align:center;">Virgil Bolger, my brother </p><p style="text-align:center;">and Tom Burke, my friend </p><p>but I also posted about nature, the original role of the haiku: </p><p style="text-align:center;">a distant soft chord </p><p style="text-align:center;">hums from the highway this dawn </p><p style="text-align:center;">crickets chirp descant </p><p>In time I began to experiment. I always stuck to the syllable pattern 5, 7, 5 per line. I like the discipline of it and it’s what people expect. In actuality, the haiku syllable number system can be very flexible and many modern haiku even ignore the number of lines. This can make certain words almost unusable: does ‘fire’ contain one syllable or two syllables? Where I come from ‘Ireland’ has two syllables; in the US many people pronounce it as three syllables. </p><p>The haiku is traditionally about nature and those pieces that are about the human world are called <i>senryu</i> and a good number of the posts fall into that category. </p><p>I’d make no claims for my haiku being poetry — haiku is a very powerful and subtle art form once described as “an open door that looks shut”, but the act of producing them has proven to be a growing experience. There’s the fact that one must be written everyday — “inspiration is for amateurs” as artist Chuck Close once said. Then there’s wondering if the piece is any good — you just have to put it out there and take what happens. For any kind of creative artist, both of those disciplines are well worth developing. </p><p>I experimented with sound. Though rhyme and musical language is not a feature of haiku I, being bred on Irish poetry, just had to use alliteration, assonance and consonance and all of the features that I’m familiar with. </p><p style="text-align:center;">a thunder stutter </p><p style="text-align:center;">then gutters slug-full of rain </p><p style="text-align:center;">drain to grateful dirt </p><p>and sometimes I insert myself as narrator. This is probably my primary sin against the form and one I often feel uncomfortable with: </p><p style="text-align:center;">if I could but fly </p><p style="text-align:center;">I’d wild goose chase all across </p><p style="text-align:center;">the grey Winter sky </p><p>some are dark: </p><p style="text-align:center;">a foxglove venom </p><p style="text-align:center;">rent his heart; tore ventricle </p><p style="text-align:center;">and blue vein apart </p><p>some light: </p><p style="text-align:center;">a scut of a child </p><p style="text-align:center;">a rogue of the smiling tribe </p><p style="text-align:center;">loping down the road </p><p>So, it’s the daily haiku. Or the daily ‘something like a haiku’. The art form itself is hugely pleasing to me and allows great flexibility. At this point, I’m not sure that I could achieve the depth and poignancy that a really good haiku can give, but I’m having fun and when I get stuck, I can always throw in a limerick: “There was a young lady of Exeter …” </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4309073
2016-08-03T19:38:02-06:00
2022-11-25T03:13:32-07:00
Recipe: Lemon Ricotta Soufflé with Blueberries
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/db16767bb72dc264d4825dcd12e4467ead7c16ff/small/peter-berley-recipe-3.jpg?1470274563" class="size_s justify_left border_" />It happens every year with some fruit or another. The crop has ripened and all of a sudden there’s this great but brief abundance. Sometimes it will be strawberries or raspberries or mangos — sometimes it seems as if everything has come into lusciousness at the same time and a trip to the fruit section of the market is a cornucopia of choice. </p>
<p>I remember, years ago, being in the Mercado Da Ribeira in Lisbon just at the beginning of the cherry season and being almost overwhelmed by the smells and colours and the sheer abundance of all the fruits available. There is something almost transcendent about such bounty. </p>
<p>In the market this week the fruit superstar has been blueberries. They’ve been practically giving them away, so I had a look through one of my favourite cookbooks — <strong>Fresh Food Fast </strong>by Peter Berley — and found a recipe I’d like to share with you. It’s easy and quick. It’s gluten-free and it’s flexible — as other fruit comes into season, I’m sure substitutions can be easily made. It didn’t turn out as fluffy as some soufflés might but I think that was mostly because over the altitude here in the Denver area. It did, however, have an almost cake-like texture that I really liked and found that it went very well with coffee. </p>
<p>I didn’t pay any attention to the admonition to use organic washed cane sugar and used regular brown cane sugar. The organic washed cane sugar would probably be a nice addition especially sprinkled on the top at the end. </p>
<p><strong>LEMON-RICOTTA SOUFFLÉ WITH BLUEBERRIES </strong></p>
<p>This warm, puffy dessert can be made with raspberries or blackberries with equally great results. </p>
<p>YIELD: 6 – 8 SERVINGS </p>
<p>1/2 cup sugar, preferably organic washed cane sugar </p>
<p>6 large eggs </p>
<p>Grated zest of 1 lemon </p>
<p>1 pound whole-milk ricotta cheese </p>
<p>1 pint blueberries </p>
<p>1. Set a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 375°F. Butter a 9-inch pie plate or baking dish. Set aside 1 tablespoon of the sugar. </p>
<p>2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, remaining 7 tablespoons of sugar, and lemon zest. Add the ricotta and whisk until smooth. </p>
<p>3. Pour the mixture into the pie plate and bake for 15 minutes. Top with the blueberries, sprinkle with the remaining tablespoon of sugar, and bake until just set, about 15 minutes more. Serve warm or chilled. </p>
<p> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4267476
2016-07-07T09:50:08-06:00
2022-06-29T08:01:59-06:00
Book Review: Unbroken Brain
<p><strong><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/ecde475a571d093a385413c6d620540378dbb4d8/small/unbroken-brain.jpg?1467906553" class="size_s justify_left border_" />Unbroken Brain </span></strong><br><em>Maia Szalavitz </em><br>St. Martin’s Press 2016 <br>352 pp. </p>
<p>I found this book fascinating. I’m an alcoholic and central to all the mess that surrounds such a condition is a disturbing existential disconnect. I’ve referred to it in the past as “getting out of integrity with oneself” or I’ve explained it as “knowing that there’s a problem but denying that there’s a problem while all the time knowing that denial is just more proof that there’s most definitely a problem”. It’s a very disturbing emotional and intellectual place to be lost in and has been an issue that I’ve pondered for the good many years of my sobriety. I’ve no interest in being defined as a recovering alcoholic but it does give me some insight into addiction and what may be involved in treating it effectively and has certainly helped me to get a better grip on the issue. </p>
<p>The author of the book Unbroken Brain, Maia Szalavitz, gives a much needed re-examination of addiction and its treatment rather than thinking of addiction simply as a disease or as a moral failure. She points out that there is no precise scientific definition of addiction nor any identified common chemical in any substance that can be said to cause addiction. Nor, indeed, is there such a thing as an ‘addictive personality’. Rather, she insists, addiction at root is a learning disorder. "Label addiction as merely biological, psychological, social, or cultural and it cannot be understood; incorporate the importance of learning, context, and development, however, and it all becomes much more explicable and tractable.” She points out that the majority of those who start drinking or taking drugs do not develop a dependency but rather tend to move on from the drugs or learn to drink or consume in moderation. Some 10% - 20% do become addicts and nearly all of those have suffered trauma at some point in their lives. She found herself numbered those figures, acquiring a cocaine and heroin addiction in her 20s that she describes in harrowing detail. </p>
<p>This is not to say that addiction is ‘only’ a learning disorder. Much depends on when the activity starts — to start while the brain is young and still developing adds an elevated level of risk. Trauma, poverty, peer pressure, stress, chemicals and all the usual factors one thinks of as being involved in addiction come into play but as the brain learns to use drugs, alcohol, gambling etc., as a soothing exercise, it cannot just unlearn the practice when negative results are generated. </p>
<p>This was the experience that thoroughly confused me in my days as a drunk. I had finally gotten to the point where I knew that I didn’t want to drink any more but somehow I felt compelled against my own wishes. I stopped drinking at one point and decided to go to an AA meeting. I hated it. It seemed to be a lot of miserable people almost frantically indulging in caffeine, sugar or tobacco — or all three. I never went back. I stayed sober for six months and relapsed. I drank in moderation for a while but the consumption increased. Finally, after a number of years I stopped again and now, some sixteen years later, I’m not interested in booze. But I never went back to AA. The author herself admits that many aspects of AA and the twelve-step program that is the basis for many recovery programs were very helpful to her. But she is also highly critical of its dominance in the recovery world and points out that many other recovery programs based on a more scientific approach have as good, or better, recovery results. She is particularly critical of the AA notion of needing to ‘hit bottom’. I know that I never hit bottom but I did know I was in trouble. As is pointed out in the book each addict may respond to many different treatments but one one-size fits all of AA and related programs and the harsh criminalization on behalf of ‘the war on drugs’ have more of a track record of failure that success. In fact, one of the distinguishing marks of addiction is its resistance to punishment. Instead, a program of harm-reduction has seemed to have the most successful results. </p>
<p>The book is thoroughly researched and remarkably free of jargon. I shall be interested to see what the medical community makes of it but it rang very clearly for me. For maybe the first time it seemed that a clear light was shone on this condition, and many mysteries cleared up. It also made me feel that I no longer had to reconcile the idea of being the victim of a disease while at the same time being a moral failure. </p>
<p>If you have an addiction, or if you know someone who has, I recommend this book. Highly. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4267412
2016-07-07T09:42:51-06:00
2024-03-05T01:00:20-07:00
Song Profile: Mollaí na gCuach Ní Chuilleanáin
<p>Song Profile: Mollaí na gCuach Ní Chuilleanáin. </p><p>Some songs just grab you straight away. Some songs grow on you over time or when you hear a particular rendition. This song grabbed my attention after I heard the version called Mal Bhán Ní Chuilleanáin, by Lá Lugh, sung by Eithne Ní Ullacháin. Rod (our former flute player) gave me a copy of their recording of the same name and the track jumped out at me. I’d heard the song before and had music and lyrics for it — why hadn’t I realized how great it was? So I went to my copy of Ceolta Gael and started reading the music and words. The words were the same but the music was different. Not hugely — it still fit the lyric snugly but the feel of the song was very different. Whereas the original was an almost bouncy tune complete with chorus, this version had a haunting quality that, to my mind, suited the lyrics so much better. All of a sudden it came alive and the chorus — while rarer in sad songs — made so much more sense. </p><p>Is fada liom uaim í, uaim í </p><p>Is fada liom uaim í ó d’imigh sí </p><p>Is fada liom thíos agus thuas í </p><p>Mollaí na gCuach etc, </p><p>She is far from me, from me </p><p>She is far from me since she left </p><p>She is far away below and above (everywhere) </p><p>Mollaí na gCuach etc., </p><p>There are meaning on top of meanings here. “Is fada liom uaim í” has the literal meaning given above but it’s also a way of saying “I miss her” or “I long for her”.. “Thíos agus thuas” means literally “below and above” but in common idiom can mean “North and South”, “in every way” or “everywhere”. </p><p>I won´t get drunk anymore </p><p>I will not taste a drop of ale ever again </p><p>Since I lost my little young girl </p><p>That I might put money in my pockets. </p><p>Chorus </p><p>She is far from me, from me </p><p>She is far from me since she left </p><p>She is far away below and above (everywhere) </p><p>Curley-haired Mollaí Ní Chuilleanáin </p><p>I will build a house on the heights </p><p>And I will have four white spotted cows </p><p>And I will allow nobody near them </p><p>Except for lovely fair Mollaí Ní Chuilleanáin </p><p>Chorus </p><p>If I were in Death’s difficulty </p><p>And the people saying I would not recover </p><p>I would never make my will </p><p>Until fair Mollaí would come. </p><p>Chorus </p><p>One day I was in the wood </p><p>I caught a glimpse of a pretty girl </p><p>She would make a corpse live </p><p>Or a fine young lad of an old fellow. </p><p>For the song I’ve stayed with the spelling Mollaí Ní Chuilleanáin. There are different spellings of the name in Irish — Ní Chuilleannáin is common, as is Ní Chuileanáin. The issue is further complicated when the name is Anglicized, giving us Cullinane, O Cullanayne, Quillinan, Culnane, and Quilnan. It is also sometimes translated as Hollywood, since the Irish word for a holly tree is ‘cuilleann”. </p><p>We recorded this song on the album Trad and it is a favorite of ours to perform. <a class="no-pjax" href="https://youtu.be/XIHQc9HOYXk" data-link-type="url" contents="Here’s a link">Here’s a link</a> to a video of the song recorded live at a concert in Evergreen, CO a few years ago.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4207721
2016-06-01T20:38:49-06:00
2024-03-05T01:00:20-07:00
Book Review: Black Chalk
<p><span class="text-big"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/56eba6b2cdb07d7a5e3a6dd9c461530258c6d5d9/small/black-chalk.jpeg?1464835068" class="size_s justify_left border_" />Black Chalk </span><br>Christopher J. Yates <br>Picador 2015 <br>352 pp. </p><p>There’s something wrong with this book — or there’s something wrong with me. I say that because there were parts of this book that I really enjoyed but I was perplexed by some of the premises on which the plot is based and by an ending that seemed … lame? pointless? certainly unsatisfying. A blurb from the The New York Post describes the author as “A new Stephen King, albeit with a British accent”. I’m not really conversant with King’s work and my interest in horror fiction ended during high school when science-fiction took my fancy. (I still have fond memories of the frissons of terror attending my explorations of the 13th Pan Book of Horror Stories). And that British accent is really an English accent; shades of <i>The Glittering Prizes</i> or <i>Brideshead Revisited</i>. </p><p>The story concerns a group of friends who meet during the first term of university. There’s the brilliant, eccentric, charismatic and probably wealthy main character who holds the group together and, within that group, there’s the mandatory outsider — in this case an American student also attending Pitt College, a fictional branch of Oxford University. There are a couple of young, attractive interesting women and two somewhat overwrought young men — six in all. And as the blurb says — “One game. Six students. Five survivors”. </p><p>The premise of the story is that these six best friends invent a game. It involves a mixture of cards and dice, skill and chance — the details are never explained and don’t need to be. The important thing is that the penalty for losing is a series of forfeits that are designed to bring a form of petty humiliation to the loser. Overseeing all this is an increasingly sinister trio from what appears to be a secret society called The Game Soc. Over time, as these friends get to know each other better, the stakes increase and the forfeits become more vicious and very personal. Intriguing premise, I thought. </p><p>The book begins some fourteen years after the penultimate round of the game was played. A showdown is looming between the narrator, who is only identified after several chapters and a final opponent also later identified. As the narrator recounts the history of the game we get to know the people involved and the circumstances that lead to the denouement. </p><p>Now, here’s the problem for me: I didn’t get it. It’s obvious that any number of people loved this book and found it thrilling — a glowing NPR review was my inspiration for a impulse purchase. Is there a subtlety that I’m missing? Is it my unfamiliarity with the genre? I don’t mind implausibility but I have to want to suspend disbelief and, in this case, I simply wanted to shout “Stop it — that’s not how friends behave!” Friends do, of course, betray friends but for more insidious reasons than winning a game. There is no reason that I can fathom why the game wasn’t stopped when people started getting hurt. And the reason that it had do be resumed after fourteen years and an outright winner declared was even less convincing. </p><p>On the other hand, this is a well-written book and at times downright charming. For instance a description of the early stage of the friendship is described thus: “The eighth and final week of term became a time of celebration. The horse-chestnut leaves had fallen and Christmas was coming. Their days were cool and reeled along slowly. Nights buzzed by fast, warm with companionship and the air full of laughter.” That’s a lovely description and this book is full of elegant and engaging writing but I was frustrated by the unconvincing plot. But, as I’ve said, many people seem to like this book so all I can say is <i>caveat lector</i>.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4207720
2016-06-01T20:33:37-06:00
2022-11-25T03:14:36-07:00
Recipe: Mellow Moist Low-Fat Chocolate Cake
<p><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/1cc6fa6869c61c1542eefbaae3a39e6b20d2b672/small/eb976dfbb88cfe7dfdc790f4f1c7ad9c.jpg?1464834766" class="size_s justify_left border_" />Mellow Moist Low-Fat Chocolate Cake </span></p>
<p>It doesn’t seem that long ago that low-fat recipes were all the rage and and a sort of panacea for losing weight and maintaining cardio health. This was a little unfortunate in that many fine things such as eggs, butter and even olive oil became dietetically verboten. That has all changed a good deal recently but I’d still like to introduce you to this recipe, because I think it makes a very good cake even though the complete fat content is one egg yolk. I dragged it out a couple of weeks ago. Some friends were coming to dinner and one was having gall bladder trouble and needed to restrict the fat in her diet. I like a good challenge — Colcannon Christmas dinner at one time needed to accommodate vegetarian, lactose-intolerant and gluten-free diet preferences and it was always fun to come up with a festive dinner. </p>
<p>I found the recipe in a book called CookWise by Shirley Corriher which deals with the science of cooking and offers recipes for how to apply that science to one’s cooking. It’s an intriguing read and the recipes are very good. </p>
<p>You’ll see below that it calls for puréed sweet potato. You’ll save yourself some time and work by using two 4 oz jars of sweet potato baby food. </p>
<p>Ingredients: </p>
<p>1 cup (250 mL) no-fat sour cream <br>5 tablespoons (75 mL) Dutch processed cocoa powder <br>1 large egg <br>1 large egg white <br>2/3 cup (150 mL) pureed baked sweet potato, cooled (1 large, about 3/4 pound/350 g) <br>1 tablespoon (15 mL) vanilla extract <br>1 ounce (30 g) unsweetened chocolate, melted <br>3/4 cup (175 mL) cake flour <br>1/2 cup (125 mL) packed light brown sugar <br>1/2 cup (125 mL) granulated sugar <br>3/4 teaspoon (4 mL) baking powder <br>1/4 teaspoon (1 mL) baking soda <br>1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) salt <br>Icing sugar, optional <br>Preparation: <br>Grease 9-inch (23 cm) round cake pan and line with parchment or wax paper. Grease circle. Lightly dust bottom and sides with flour. </p>
<p>Put sour cream in large bowl. Sift cocoa through sieve on to sour cream and stir together. Add egg and egg white. Beat for 1 minute. Add sweet potato puree, vanilla and melted chocolate; beat well. </p>
<p>Combine and sift together cake flour, brown and granulated sugars, baking powder, baking soda and salt into medium bowl. Stir half the flour mixture into cocoa mixture. Add remaining flour mixture and stir well. Scrape down sides with each addition. Pour batter into prepared pan and smooth the surface with a rubber spatula. </p>
<p>Bake at 350º F (180º C) for 25 to 30 minutes or until cake springs back when pressed lightly in centre. Do not overbake. </p>
<p>Let cake cool in pan on rack for 10 minutes. Invert cake on to rack sprayed with nonstick cooking spray; let cool completely. Just before serving dust with icing sugar. </p>
<p>Makes 8 to 10 servings. <br>Approximate nutritional analysis for each of 8 servings: 232 calories, 4.7 g protein, 2.8 g fat, 48.8 g carbohydrate. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4207679
2016-06-01T20:26:20-06:00
2022-04-15T08:42:05-06:00
Review: James Joyce: a new biography
<p><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/98077c2f95be6f89ba060b983ac3cce17b657127/small/bowker-joyce.jpeg?1464834363" class="size_s justify_left border_" />James Joyce: a new biography </span><br>Gordon Bowker <br>Farrar, Straus and Giroux. New York 2011 <br>656 pp. </p>
<p>To celebrate the 100th birthday of Joyce in 1982, I read Richard Ellman’s magisterial biography of the writer and it’s still, I feel, the best work on the man. This book admits its debt to Ellman and also to the 1939 biography by Herbert Gorman, which I’ve not read and which was heavily edited by Joyce himself — so much so, that Gorman never forgave Joyce and never wrote another biography. </p>
<p>Joyce is the giant of modernist writing and his work glorifies the common person as hero — Bloom, the wandering Jew, is no less than Ulysses; Earwicker, the sleeping publican is repository of all the world and its workings. People are common, straightforward but also hugely complex. And thus it was with Joyce. He was in many ways a very timid man — terrified of thunderstorms and dogs —but he was also hugely courageous. He left Ireland with nothing but his talent and a determined vow of ‘non serviam’, ‘I will not obey’, a expression first uttered by Lucifer and quoted by Stephen Dedalus, Joyce’s alter ego in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Indeed, one of the pleasures of this book is Bowker’s identification of the real-life people and events that appear in Joyce’s books as fiction. </p>
<p>In Europe, Joyce initially lived in abject poverty with his mistress Nora Barnacle, teaching English in his own haphazard way and writing the books for which he was to become famous. During this period he was touted by the literary giants of the time as a genius but found it incredibly difficult to get published. Some of this was due to the moral climate of the day being in conflict with Joyce’s straight-forward language. In time, as he did get published and money began to come in both from book royalties and the generosity of friends and admirers, Joyce moved on to a life of flagrant self-indulgence and reckless over-spending. But he was always strapped for money, always pleading for loans, advances and donations — and always spending like a fiend. His daughter, Lucia, had to be institutionalized with schizophrenia, and that also drained his resources and caused much dissension in the family. He had to have endless rounds of eye surgery — a condition that in recent years some have tried to attributed to syphilis, a diagnosis which Bowker roundly rejects. But mostly it was his own reckless and profligate ways that left his family in penury when he died in 1941. </p>
<p>Joyce, except for one short visit, never returned to Ireland and indeed, the Irish government refused to repatriate his body when he died. He imagined that he had scores of enemies that sought his destruction, at same time he was been spoken of as deserving of the Nobel Prize. The Irish Catholic Church and the bourgeois middle class regarded his work and person as “not truly Irish” — a judgement one time leveled at Yeats by Irish nationalists — but his relationship with Ireland, or more particularly Dublin, was deep and all-pervading in his work. </p>
<p>This book gives many insights into his character. He remained in many ways ungrateful to those who helped him, even ridiculing them privately. He could hold pointless grudges but be a loyal friend — he helped to smuggle Jewish friends out of Europe as the Nazis approached Paris, at no small risk to himself. He could be dour and taciturn the turn around and perform comic dances or sing sentimental ballads at the piano. </p>
<p>And yet through all the complexity and conflicted relationships with people and ideas, he remains a heroic figure, dedicated to his work. As fragments of the work that was to be known as <em>Finnegans Wake</em> began to emerge, the reactions were almost all negative. His long-suffering brother, Stanislaus, told him angrily that he was wasting his talent — but Joyce persisted through many and great difficulties producing a book, that while it is almost never read, is a colossus of literature and a monument to the perversity of Joyce’s genius. It’s also hugely funny. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4207678
2016-06-01T20:22:41-06:00
2024-02-02T12:13:17-07:00
Recipe: Pasta and Potatoes w/broccoli and red bell pepper
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/6e8b05c5741ef967e12bc9fe1f38b6a596e03479/small/pasta-and-potatoes.jpeg?1464833960" class="size_s justify_left border_" />I remember trying to explain the wonders of the ‘chip butty’ to a group of people online — a ‘chip butty’ is french fry sandwich. It requires something like Wonder Bread (two slices), butter, french fries and salt and pepper. Some people like ketchup or brown sauce on it. Before too long the discussion changed as those familiar with the butty joined in and topics migrated to what kind of mayonnaise should be used and what kind of oil the fries should be cooked in. One woman was adamant about what would be the proper type of artisanal bread to best serve the idea. And while there are probably no end of ways to expand and improve the chip butty, sometimes all you want is a … chip butty. </p><p>In the same vein, this following recipe is often looked at askance for the use of the two starches — potatoes and pasta, rather than the bread and fries above. But I think this a fine recipe just the way it is. It’s my fallback recipe when I can’t think of what to eat for dinner. It’s quick, simple and very good. It originally appeared in a book called ‘365 Ways to Cook Pasta’ but since I haven’t looked at the recipe in a long time, I’ll give you my version of it for two people. </p><p>¼ cup or less of olive oil </p><p>¼ teaspoon or more of red pepper flakes </p><p>1 clove of garlic, thinly sliced </p><p>half of a red bell pepper sliced thinly </p><p>5 oz pasta — I use bow ties (farfalle) </p><p>8 oz of potatoes in roughly 1 inch dice </p><p>6 oz broccoli florets </p><p>salt </p><p>black pepper </p><p>Place the potatoes in salted cold water and bring to a boil. </p><p>Boil for 8 minutes and add the pasta. </p><p>When the pot comes back to a boil, time for another 6 minutes </p><p>Add the broccoli and boil for another 6 minutes. </p><p>Meanwhile sauté the red bell and garlic in the olive oil. When the potato, pasta and broccoli mix has cooked, drain, return to the pot, add the oil and red bell and garlic. salt and pepper and mix well. Serve on warm plates or soup bowls. </p><p>Grated parmesan on top makes a nice addition but I often skip it. <br><br><span class="text-big">The Chip Butty: </span><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/78f80a8ce404db62de448012baf6c27875705fdf/small/chip-butty.jpg?1464834065" class="size_s justify_left border_" /></p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/4069509
2016-03-02T12:06:42-07:00
2022-07-20T08:33:27-06:00
Some books and a recipe.
<p>It’s March — “the mad March days” and certainly the craziest time of the year for us. As well as seasonal concerts we’ll also be teaching again at Colorado College in Colorado Springs. <em>The Music of Ireland, MU 395</em> with Dr. Victoria Lindsay Levine. Lots of hands-on learning of tunes and student creative endeavours. </p>
<p>I’ll be teaching lot of the history and background on this course so, I’ve not been doing a lot of purely recreational reading of late. It’s mostly been fairly academic stuff pertaining either to traditional Irish music — for obvious reasons — or to James Joyce, of whose work I’m a huge fan. On this front, I’ve been intrigued by <em>The Books at the Wake — A Study of Literary Allusions in James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake</em> by James S. Atherton. I had recently read <em>Dotter of her Father’s Eyes</em>, a graphic memoir/biography by Mary M. Talbot and illustrated by her husband Bryan Talbot.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/33b1e2d42e0fbd435abb0bcc7903e304fb814077/small/books-at-the-wake.jpeg?0" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/ef1172e75d11a158ff9c21a3c4c49139d10628f3/small/dotter.jpeg?0" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/bff7467e40a8d2fc9fcbc2730d842f87ae3ec6b1/small/mostly-short-mostly-true.png?0" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/5b5adc15405a6dd7b25052ee035c932662207cf1/small/saints.jpeg?0" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><br><br><br><br><br> <br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br> <br>It’s partly a brief biography of Joyce’s daughter, Lucia, and partly a memoir of growing up as the daughter of James Atherton. Both women — Lucia and Mary — sought their fathers’ approval and love and neither of them received it. The book is smart and observant and, ultimately sad. I was intrigued to read Atherton’s book a) to learn more about <em>Finnegans Wake</em> and b) to get a bead on Atherton the man. I found out all sorts of interesting things — for instance, the huge influence of Lewis Carrol on Joyce — and I also found Atherton an engaging writer in a subject that could be very dry. He seemed to me to be a fairly affable personality but that doessn’t always make for being a good parent. Both books were good reads and if you’re a Joyce fan, you’ll enjoy them. </p>
<p>On the traditional Irish music front I’ve been reading Donal O’Sullivan’s biography of the harper <em>Turlough O’Carolan</em> which has many insights about the state of Ireland during the 17th century. I’m finding it a good companion to Daniel Corkery’s <em>Hidden Ireland,</em> a history of that same period. I’ve also been looking into <em>Traditional Music and Irish Society: Historical Perspectives by Martin Dowling</em>. I’m only part way through this but it’s a comprehensive study of the social place of Irish traditional music from the 18th century through the late 20th century. It’s a little too comprehensive for my current explorations but a fascinating read and a book that I expect to come back to many times. </p>
<p>On the more recreational side, I’ve been enjoying <em>Mostly Short, Mostly True Stories from Ireland</em> by Jim Remington (Pineglenn Press). It’s a book of thirty-one short stories about Jim’s travels in Ireland and have that delightful, slightly quirky charm that tends to abound when one is footloose on the byways of Ireland. It’s a slim volume and I’ve been rationing myself to a story here and there. It’s good stuff. </p>
<p>I’ve also read a couple of mysteries to relax. <em>The Crossing</em> by Michael Connelly and <em>Priests of the Shadow Bible</em> by Ian Rankin. I gave the first to Jean for Christmas and she gave me the Rankin. Oddly enough, the books are very similar. If you’re familiar with these writers you’ll know that they’re friends and that both their main protagonists, Harry Bosch in the case of Connelly and John Rebus in the case of Rankin, are very similar characters. Both are past middle age and retired from regular police work at police, They’re rebels and lone-wolves, who were constantly in trouble with their superiors for insubordination and unorthodox methods. In these two latest book there’s also a similarity in plot. In <em>The Crossing</em>, Bosch agrees (reluctantly) to work as an investigator for his half-brother, Micky Haller, a defense attorney. This is regarded as some kind of treason by his old colleagues. Rebus, on the other hand, agrees to co-operate with the Complaints department of his police force, who are investigating possible wrong-doing in a squad that Rebus was a member of many years before. Again, this is regarded as a kind of betrayal and it forces Rebus to make hard decisions about loyalty and affection for his old comrades. </p>
<p>I enjoyed both books. The Connelly moved faster and was easier to follow. The Rankin was a more complicated story but felt a little over-written. Rebus’ wry wit seemed a bit contrived and I found it a bit slow-going in places. Connelly is a storyteller and seems to make a point of keeping that central to his work. Rankin is a fine writer but he strikes me, in this book, as being a little fond of his own voice. Still, I enjoyed both books as a relief from more taxing reads. <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/39083a840670f330e7e56d70ecd0eecd05475f14/medium/farro-salad.jpg?0" class="size_m justify_right border_" /></p>
<p>For this month’s recipe I’d like to recommend a recipe that I found on the New York Times Cooking page. I’m a fan of their cooking section and I find things there that help me expand my horizons. This <a contents="farro salad" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1015843-charlie-birds-farro-salad">farro salad</a> by Charlie Bird is excellent. Very satisfying as either a Summer or Winter salad. It would also make a fine side salad with fish — grilled trout, for instance. As with all NYT recipes, you probably won’t need to change too much to make it to your liking as most of the NYT recipes that I’ve ever tried, seemed to be perfect as they were. </p>
<p>Enjoy.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3984544
2016-01-11T17:06:15-07:00
2022-04-03T12:21:24-06:00
Recipe: Black Bean Pizza
<p><strong><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/88aaeb0e1ca22a59265e6c054ffbea54321ebadb/original/untitled-design-9.jpg?1452557140/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg?1452557140" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />Black Bean Pizza </span></strong></p>
<p>For years I never really understood pizza. I'd had many pizzas that I'd liked and a few (always commercial brands) that were more than a mystery to me. But, somehow, the soul of pizza had not been revealed to me. Then one day I came across a copy of Elizabeth David's Italian Cooking and, as I was perusing it, I found what I hadn't even known I was looking for - Pizza Napolitana. Pizza crust, chopped tomatoes, anchovies, mozzarella and basil. Inspired simplicity -- a perfect meld of flavors. Every other pizza is descended from it. So I made it and have been making it, and other pizza, ever since. (Check out any Elizabeth David books you can find. They're great reading and full of wonderful recipes.) </p>
<p>Over the years I have experimented with different toppings. The basic idea of pizza is, of course, very simple and an open invitation to such tinkering. You make--or buy--a crust and you pile some stuff on it and bake the whole thing for 15 to 20 minutes. I like to make the crust myself--I like the process and I think you get a better result. The first Pizza crust I ever made looked like a map of Treasure Island, so don't be discouraged if your first attempts are less than perfect. <br>Crust </p>
<p>• 1 cup (slightly heaped) flour (about a cup and a quarter) </p>
<p>• 2 1/4 teaspoons of yeast </p>
<p>• 1/2 teaspoon salt </p>
<p>• 1 teaspoon of sugar or honey </p>
<p>the above dissolved in: </p>
<p>• quarter pint of lukewarm water </p>
<p>stir in </p>
<p>• 1 Tablespoon olive oil </p>
<p>Place the flour in a large bowl and slowly add the water/oil mixture using the handle of a wooden spoon to stir. (I now have a fancy implement like the one Father Dominic uses but a wooden spoon handle works well too.) If needed, use more water until, quite suddenly, everything comes together and a 'ball' forms. Flour your counter-top, your hands and sprinkle a little on the dough 'ball' to avoid sticking. Place the ball on the counter and knead for several minutes. Spray a plate with some aerosol oil--Pam, or some such product--cover with a cloth and put somewhere warm. I usually pre-heat an oven on low then turn off the heat and place it in there for an hour. Somewhere cooler will take longer. While the dough rises make the topping. <br>Mix together: </p>
<p>• 1 14oz. can of black beans, rinsed and drained (you'll actually only use about three-quarters of the can) </p>
<p>• Half a red onion, chopped </p>
<p>• 2 teaspoons cumin </p>
<p>• 1/4 quarter cup chopped cilantro--or more to taste </p>
<p>• 6 oz. mozzarella grated </p>
<p>• 2 oz. cheddar grated </p>
<p>• Salt - to taste </p>
<p>When the dough has risen roll it out to desired thickness on a floured surface. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Brush the dough with olive oil and sprinkle very lightly with red pepper flakes. Add the topping and spread evenly. Decorate the top with tomato slices and thin strips of Anaheim pepper or some other mild pepper. Bake in the oven for 15 minutes. </p>
<p>All of this is kind of approximate so feel free to modify to your taste. <br>Enjoy.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3984504
2016-01-11T17:01:07-07:00
2022-02-10T13:28:11-07:00
Book Review: The Girl on the Train
<p><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/fab0e0fdf3876e9fab12279d8fc1953f51bd39f1/small/girl.jpeg?1452556638" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><span class="font_large">The Girl on the Train </span><br><em>Paula Hawkins </em><br>Riverhead Books 2015 </p>
<p>I avoided this book for a long time. The fact that it was a #1 bestseller was part of the reason and the fact that so many commentaries likened the plot to something by Gillian Flynn made me wonder if this book were merely another popular variation on the ‘unreliable narrator’ theme. I’d already done a review of Gone Girl and was loathe to invest time in what might turn out to be a variation on that theme. But the book showed amazing staying power in its sales and I saw a copy at the airport for 50% off so I decided to give it a try. I’m glad I did. </p>
<p>The main narrator and unlikely heroine of the story is Rachel. She’s a mess. She’s a self-pitying, raging alcoholic who drunk-dials her ex-husband, suffers from blackouts and whose half-drunken fantasies, wishful daydreams and shattered memory lead to all sorts of misunderstandings and erroneous conclusions. </p>
<p>Then there’s “Jess”, whom Rachel sees each day from the train she commutes on, and who seems, in sharp contrast to Rachel’s own life, to have an ideal marriage with “Jason”. We also get “Jess’s” story up until she disappears suddenly. </p>
<p>Then, there’s the commentary from Anna, new wife of Rachel’s ex, who also happens to be a neighbour of “Jess”. </p>
<p>All three narrators are unreliable for different reasons and with different purposes, but there are no sneaky tricks being played, no deus ex machina at the end to prop up the plot. It’s as much an examination of the limits of human knowledge given how easy it is to misunderstand, jump to conclusions or ignore the obvious as it is a tightly plotted thriller. </p>
<p>It’s a dark book. It’s a book where sympathetic characters are rare and sometimes not-that-sympathetic. Even the ‘nice’ person in the book, Rachel’s roommate/landlady is described: “Cathy’s a nice person in a forceful sort of way. She makes you notice her niceness. Her niceness is writ large, it is her defining quality and she needs it acknowledged often, daily almost, which can be tiring.” And making drunken Rachel the centre of the book was a brave and, ultimately, successful move. As I said above, she’s a mess: unreliable, self-absorbed and endlessly letting herself and others down. She’s let herself go and observes that men now seem to find her distasteful. She’s deeply lonely but makes no meaningful attempt to change. A not untypical alcoholic. In fact, the depiction of Rachel’s alcoholism made me wonder if the author has or had a drinking problem. Turns out that she doesn’t, but the descriptions of Rachel’s alcoholic troubles are so utterly convincing that I felt I had to see if the author was writing from her own experience. That, too, may be a reason why some people have had difficulty staying with the book. One friend didn’t get past the first twenty pages, declaring the book “too dark”. And yes, it’s dark and there are some unlikable people in the story, but it’s a very good read that leads to a very satisfying conclusion.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3943551
2015-12-01T13:23:57-07:00
2023-04-25T04:02:38-06:00
Colcannon Christmas Holiday Show
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/51079d51f6e62944016c343f0ca8d85308e6ca68/medium/colcannonandorchestrasmallphoto.jpg?1449001408" class="size_m justify_left border_" />Well, Thanksgiving is over and a lovely time it was, too. All the band members were here, the food was great and the company better. More about that below. And, of course, since it’s the beginning of the Christmas season, it’s the time when we start rehearsing our Christmas show again. </p><p>We first started performing this over a decade ago and we tried very hard to find material that was a bit less-known but also had that holiday feel. So, to honor the religious aspect of the season we have a number of songs around the Bethlehem theme; Jake Thackray’s ‘Remember Bethlehem’ may be my favorite. The story is imagined in a more familiar setting than far-off Palestine, so all the flora and fauna — a simple metaphor for all creation — is more native to the British Isles than the Middle East. </p><p>I know your nightingale remembers it still </p><p>Your pussywillow and your daffodil</p><p>Even the stony old hills </p><p>Remember Bethlehem </p><p>And Mary herself — never mentioned by name until the last verse — is described”</p><p>It was ever so cold</p><p>She was far away from home</p><p>She was not very old </p><p>She was only a shabby little country girl </p><p> </p><p>In a similar vein, The Hub of Eternity by Geoffrey Turner sees the story from the point of view of the shepherds and is told in Northern English dialect:</p><p>It were cold out on the hillside</p><p>The frost gleamed on the rocks </p><p>‘Twere a night for thermal undies </p><p>And wooly, hand-knit socks </p><p>‘Rug Muire Mac do Dhia’ (Mary Bore a Son to God) and Do’n Oíche Úd i mBeithil (To That Night in Bethlehem) continue the story with two old Irish carols. </p><p>Cynthia has written a tune for us, the Deck the Hall Reel, and Jean contributes The Hogmanay Hornpipe. (Hogmanay is New Year’s Eve in Scotland.) </p><p>Mike gets to sing a couple of songs — Christmas in Brooklyn, by the redoubtable Erik Frandsen, and BeBop Santa Claus. Both of these songs are squarely in the secular end of the spectrum and great fun. And Brian adds the instrumental tune The Blue Ducks — a favorite of mine. </p><p>There’s a bunch a tunes with Christmas in the title, a goodly number with bad weather in the title and all-in-all, it’s a nice mixture of reverent, miserable, silly and fun. </p><p>The show is a little different every year, but we try to hang on to the favorites — it is a time for tradition, after all! </p><p> </p><p>So here are few tunes songs for you to listen to — hope you like.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3943537
2015-12-01T13:03:14-07:00
2022-06-05T11:09:11-06:00
Recipe: Tiramisu
<p><span class="font_regular"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/4f1a9d4506071cea65287f897ec5893ddcfd3194/small/tiramisu.jpeg?1449000102" class="size_s justify_left border_" />This month’s recipe is for Tiramisu. This was served up at our recent Thanksgiving feast by Jean’s sister, Mary Harrison, and was a big hit. All of the food was just great but this was served at the end and boosted spirits as the alkaline tide of digestion was rolling in. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">This version has been modified by Mary to be gluten-free and is none the worse for it. It’s best made the day before and allowed to rest properly. </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">And, as always, be careful with eggs that don’t get cooked. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="font_regular">2 eggs </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">2 egg yolks </span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">12 tablespoons sugar</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">500 grams mascarpone (1 large tub)</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">1 cup heavy whipping cream</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Pinch of salt</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">10 tablespoons Marsala</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">2 cups espresso, plus more if needed</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">3 packets ladyfingers — Mary recommends Schar brand, gluten-frree lady fingers found at Whole Foods and just right for a 9X13 inch pan.</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">1 whole cup chopped semisweet chocolate </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong><span class="font_regular">Directions</span></strong></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Place the 2 eggs and 2 whole egg yolks in an electric mixer bowl and add approximately 8 tablespoons of sugar. With whisk attachment beat until the mixture forms a good ribbon (should nearly have soft peaks). Once the correct consistency is achieved, whisk in the Mascarpone cheese. In a separate bowl, whip the cream along with 2 tablespoons sugar and a pinch of salt.</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Once hard peaks form, add the whipped cream to the egg/Mascarpone mixture and beat until smooth, adding approximately 2 tablespoons Marsala.</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">In a separate bowl, pour the hot espresso and add 2 tablespoons sugar and 8 tablespoons Marsala. If there’s anyone who’s avoiding alcohol you can heat the Marsala gently in a saucepan until the alcohol evaporates, then add to the coffee. But do check with anyone who might have a problem as people have different tolerances and it’s not always possible to remove all the alcohol.</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular"><strong>Assembly</strong>: One at a time, quickly dip each biscuit in the espresso mixture. Set them aside, then dip again. The guten-free ladyfingers are bigger than standard and need a bit more coffee/Marsala to get them moist. Don’t be tempted to soak them — they’ll go soggy and part of the charm will be lost. Place them on the bottom of a 9 by 13 glass baking pan. Continue until you have an entire layer of biscuits on the bottom of the pan.</span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular">Using a spatula spread half of the mascarpone cream over the biscuits. Repeat the process above to make a second layer. This should fill the pan.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="font_regular"><strong>Finish:</strong> Refrigerate 8 to 10 hours or overnight. Grate the chocolate over the top. Enjoy!</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3911821
2015-11-03T14:05:06-07:00
2022-02-12T07:34:54-07:00
Review: Voice of the People (Topic Records)
<p><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/52500258f334fcd721bfc3fd5bf4fd9f7f7f88ab/small/thevoiceofthepeople-tscd751.jpg?1446584668" class="size_s justify_left border_" />Topic Records</span>, and its huge catalogue of wonderful music, has long had a place in my heart. It was through that label that I first became acquainted with performers such as Martin Carthy, June Tabor, Dick Gaughan and Ewan McColl and it was through them that I learned about the rich history of folk music in the British Isles. In fact, in no small way, this independent record company -- the oldest independent record label in the world -- was hugely important in supporting and spreading the second folk revival of the post -WWII Britain. While the first revival, in the late 19th and early 20th century, focused on and was inspired by rural folksong, the second revival, from 1945 until the late ‘60s, found a large part of its voice in the industrial, working-class areas of the country — miners, shipbuilders, factory workers had replaced the shepherds and milkmaids. And, while Topic was busy recording ground-breaking albums by the likes of Nic Jones and Martin Carthy, it was also recording older and more traditional material in the field. </p>
<p>Which brings me to <i>Voice of the People</i>, a compilation of songs and instrumental music of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. The first and largest series is a 20 CD set. While the mainstay of commercial success for the company lay in the sales by their ‘name’ artists, the performers on this compilation were mostly unknown outside of their own small communities. Many went on to be known broadly in the folk community but, with very few exceptions, tended not to be professional performers. </p>
<p>The series, which is organized thematically — <i>Songs of Courtship and Marriage</i>; <i>Songs of Tempest and Sea Battles, Sailor Lads and Fishermen</i>; <i>Tragic Ballads</i>; <i>Songs of Emigration and Exile, </i>etc.<i>, </i> — and has close to 500 tracks. The majority of the material is vocal and unaccompanied but there are a couple of CDs devoted to dance music. </p>
<p>In recent years I've not been listening to so much music at home. It seems to already be everywhere one goes, from the gas station to the supermarket, from the restaurant to the airport lounge. So, at home I crave silence more than sound. But when I do listen, I find myself listening to older folk music and finding in it much of what I don't find in a lot of more modern or slickly performed folk music. This is not to be disparaging about new folk music. Some ensembles, such as Deep End of the Ford or The Imagined Village, are making soulful and rich work but both of those ensembles feature artists with a deep knowledge and understanding of the tradition.</p>
<p>For me a song that works is like a hand-written letter from an old friend. Even if the spelling or grammar are a bit dodgy and the writing difficult to read in places, I cherish it far higher than the beautiful prose of someone I don't know. And so it is with these songs and tunes. To listen quietly and with care is to be transported to a vibrantly alive and real place. And while, at first listening, these songs may have an amateurish feel to them, it soon becomes apparent just what wonderful performances they are and how strong the material is. </p>
<p>Among these tracks you'll find a couple of songs that Colcannon has performed, though from different sources -- <i>The Bold Trooper, The Little Drummer </i>-- and many that you may have heard of -- <i>John Barleycorn, Matt Highland, Molly Bawn.</i> And singers like Walter Pardon, Lizzie Higgins, Paddy Tunny and bands such as the lesser-known Britannia Coconut Dancers. </p>
<p>This is a goldmine of wonderful songs and an inspirational reminder of what's important about folk music. If you're not sure that you want to commit to the whole series, there's a compilation with a track from each of the twenty CDs, called <i>The Voice of the People: </i><i>A Selection from the Series of Anthologies</i>. And, if your appetite is whet, and you can’t indulge yourself with the 20 CD set, be reassured that there are two other series, both on the shorter side, but both equally wonderful. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Here's a youtube of Walter Pardon singing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjHC9Pt1ZXY">Jack Hall</a>.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3911780
2015-11-03T13:57:55-07:00
2022-03-16T10:25:34-06:00
Reviews: A couple of songbooks: Sam Henry’s Songs of the People and Leabhar Mór na nAmhrán.
<p><span class="font_large">A couple of songbooks: <b>Sam Henry’s Songs of the People</b> <i>(University of Georgia Press)</i> and <b>Leabhar Mór na nAmhrán</b> <i>(Cló Iar Chonnacht). </i></span></p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/6788c5e4c73157c0cd8eab28e04cd1fee2f44014/small/sam-henry.jpg?1446584761" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><span class="font_large">T</span><span class="font_regular">he</span> first of these books I had a heck of a time getting hold of. It’s a famous collection — definitive, even — but like other definitive collections, it has spent a lot of time out of print. For several years I’d kept an eye out on Amazon and Abe Books, hoping to acquire a good used copy. I saw prices as high as $500. It was starting to look a little hopeless. And then in 2010 The University of Georgia Press re-issued the book in paperback at a much more reasonable price of closer to $30. </p>
<p>The blurb on the book gives you an idea of just why I was so delighted to get my own copy: </p>
<p><i>“The story of Ireland — its graces and shortcomings, triumphs and sorrows — is told by ballads, dirges, and humorous songs of its common people. Music is a direct and powerful expression of Irish folk culture and an aspect of Irish life beloved throughout the rest of the world.</i></p>
<p><i>Incredibly, the largest single gathering of Irish folk songs had been almost inaccessible because, originally newspaper based, it was available in only three libraries, in Belfast, Dublin, and Washington D.C. </i></p>
<p><i>Sam Henry’s Songs of the People makes the music available to a wider audience than the collector ever imagined. Comprising nearly 690 selections, this thoroughly annotated and indexed collection is a treasure for anyone who performs, composes, studies, collects, or simply enjoys folk music. It is valuable as an outstanding record of Irish folk songs before World War II, demonstrating the historical ties between Irish and Southern folk culture and the tremendous Irish influence on American folk music. </i></p>
<p><i>In addition to the songs themselves and their original commentary, Sam Henry’s Songs of the People includes a glossary, bibliography, discography, index of titles and first lines, melodic index, index of the original sources of the songs and information about them, geographical index of sources, and three appendixes related to the original song series in the Northern Constitution (a weekly newspaper)”. </i></p>
<p>Sam Henry (1870-1952) was a civil servant in Northern Ireland. An amateur folklorist, entomologist, antiquarian and ornithologist — and a pretty decent fiddler — he collected songs both through his own efforts and through his volunteer post as Song Editor of <em>The Northern Constitution</em>, a weekly newspaper published in the provincial town of Coleraine. The series, <i>Songs of the People</i>, ran from November 1923 to 1939 and, despite Henry’s efforts to have the collection printed in book form, for a long time it existed only in document form and in only three libraries (as mentioned above). In 1961 Gale Huntington, an American song collector, became aware of the collection and resolved to see it published. </p>
<p>The songs are arranged by theme — just as those in <em>The Voice of the People</em> CD anthology are — and are richly notated. A lovely touch (for me) is the fact that the range is clearly marked and the type of key indicated — a gapped scale or a modal scale are really easy to spot. Variations of melody or words are noted and, in all, the whole thing is a delight. </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/dab2c254fc3d7c66c5f660ebb919602879222382/small/leabharmoramhran-cover-300-481-c1.jpg?1446584856" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />On the other hand, <i>Leabhar Mór na nAmhrán (The Big Book of Songs)</i> was a real disappointment to me. It’s a huge collection of songs in the Irish language. I’ll not belabor my frustrations but note just a couple of them. First, there’s not a note of music in this book. If you want to find the melody to any of these songs you’ll need to purchase the CD on which it appears — a CD conveniently published by the publishers of the book. I had hoped not only for tunes to songs but to see alternative melodies to songs. This happens quite a lot with Irish song; the same song may be sung to a number of different tunes. But there’s not a jot. And why not, I wonder? Is there some suspicion in traditional circles of reading music? Granted, the melody of a song can have variations even from verse to verse, but why not give us the gist? (<i>Ceolta Gael </i> and <i>Ceolta Gael 2</i> are a couple of slim volumes that do just this, and I recommend them highly). So, a song book without music … </p>
<p>The other frustration is actually the corollary of the first. There are many lyrical versions of the old songs: I can think of several versions of the words to An Bunnán Bui. But what we get is one version, the version of the person who recorded it for Cló Iar Chonnacht. I looked up some songs I know, to see if there were any verses I was missing. Most of what I looked up I couldn’t find in the book. These were well-know songs I wanted to consult. </p>
<p>So, there are a lot of songs — over 400 — many are well-known. But all are without the music, they’re not much use to anyone who wants to sing them. Which is kind of the point of songs. So if you’re a singer, go with Sam Henry! </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3882507
2015-10-04T20:29:44-06:00
2022-06-23T02:33:27-06:00
Book Review: Better Than Before by Gretchen Rubin
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/644ec1901a483afdb65f33a2653e099b74d5b6ac/small/better-than-before.jpg?1444012145" class="size_s justify_left border_" />Better Than Before </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><strong><em>Gretchen Rubin </em></strong></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Crown 2015 320 pp. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"><br>Some of the best advice I ever got was from an old soldier I met in England. I remember it well even though it was some forty-odd years ago. I was lugging a big plastic bag of dirty clothes into the laundromat. It was a mucky night, squally and cold and I was looking forward to the warmth inside the glass doors and the eventual store of clean clothes that awaited me. “A young lad like you should be doin’ his own dobeyin’” I heard a voice say. Looking ‘round I saw this old lad sheltering up against the wall from the rain. “And then I’ll hang them out in the garden” I said. “Well, there is that” he replied, smiling and looking up at the falling rain. “I’ll just spend a few bob here” I said “and nip across the street to the pub and let the machines do the work”. “Fair deuce” he replied. So I went in, got the laundry churning in the washer and headed out for the afore-mentioned pub. The old soldier was still there — I knew he was a soldier from his use of the term ‘dobeying’. His bus hadn’t come yet so I invited him for a pint and we both went across the street to The Flower Pot. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">We chatted over a couple of pints and, as I surmised, he was an old retired soldier who had last served in India. He had some great stories and a low opinion of today’s ‘yoof’ (youth)— though he did mention a couple of times that he thought I was “all right”. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Somewhere in the conversation he mentioned that the best thing he had learned in the army was the habit of making his bed every morning. “You should try it” he said “it helps get you started the right way for the rest of the day. An’ do it proper: it doesn’t count unless you do it proper”. And he was right. It was a couple of years before I tried it. I’d been laid off my job at the car factory and the days had turned into tedious, formless boredom. So I started trying to impose a routine and making my bed when I got up was the first part of that routine. The simple process of taking care of just one basic thing each day brought a whole new energy and structure to life. It’s been my habit ever since. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Which brings me, in a round about way, to this month’s book review — Better Than Before by Gretchen Rubin. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">When you’re your own boss it’s absolutely crucial that you be disciplined about your working habits. It’s far too easy to put things off, to prioritize the wrong things or do far more than is required by doing ‘busy’ work for fear of not getting things done. Over the years I used tricks, treats, punishments and will-power to keep myself in line. Some of it worked, some of it failed — sometimes I knew why, sometimes not. So when I saw this book advertised on Facebook (now, there’s a habit I need to rein in), I was curious and a got myself a copy.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It’s a pretty smart book. First of all, it recognizes that that not all methods work for everyone. Some people are more self-motivated than others, some will only adopt a habit if it makes the most sense to them. Some people like to please others, some are rebels and resist expectations. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">After this she lists some techniques that may help to change old or establish new habits depending, of course, on your personality — there’s not much point in encouraging a rebellious type to de-clutter their office — especially if they like working in a cluttered office. It also, though, allows for loopholes — lapses that will happen are prevented from derailing an otherwise sound routine. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">There’s a lot of good and helpful information in this book. It’s well-reasoned, clearly laid out and realistic about what is likely to work or not. As with some of these types of book, there are a lot of anecdotal examples as well as comments that readers left on the author’s blog, but these do help to add insight to ideas and are not just ‘filler’. The book has thrown light on some of my failed routines and also shown me why my more successful ones worked. And I think it will make a great ‘how-to’ book for future habits — I’m looking forward to it.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3837261
2015-08-31T15:51:51-06:00
2022-04-05T03:32:11-06:00
Jake Thackray and Sister Josephine
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/a1bc342f15e9027794e2d31473735d98c9c6cb00/small/jakethackray.jpg?1441057868" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />Far and away our most popular song is <em>Sister Josephine</em>. We’ve been performing it since early in our career and when we dropped it briefly from the setlist, it was requested at every show — so we eventually reinstated it. It appears on our CD, Athens Hotel, and in the liner notes I give a brief history there of how I discovered it: </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">“There used to be, and may still be, a program on BBC 1 television in England called “Nationwide”. Critics regard it as having been one of the most stultifyingly boring television programs ever. I watched it religiously. At a certain point in the national show there would be a slot for local news and features. One evening, while sitting in my flat in Bedford, Anglia Television presented Jake Thackray singing Sister Josephine. That was in 1971 and I’ve wanted to sing this song ever since.” It now looks as if I’ll be singing it forever — and that’s all right with me. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Jake Thackray was born in Yorkshire in 1938 and died in Monmouth, Wales in 2002. He, at one point, considered a life in the priesthood and for a while was a school teacher. He taught in France for a while — he was a French speaker — and while there, became enamored of the French chanson style. His big hero was the French songwriter Georges Brassens. But mostly he worked as a performer. He was a regular on English television and performed all around the country. I saw him at The Dukes Playhouse in Lancaster, England in 1978 (shortly before I came to the U.S.) and it was one of the most enjoyable shows I’ve ever seen. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">He was a man of contradictions. A wonderful performer who grew to hate performing. A witty and very funny man who delivered his songs and patter in an almost dour, lugubrious monotone. A man of few words who was a skilled wordsmith. He was a man of some refinement who also wrote a number of bawdy songs that, by today’s standards, are pretty cringe-worthy. And while he’s been accused of sexism and misogyny, songs such as <em>The Hair of the Widow of Bridlington</em> are most definitely feminist in their tone. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The bulk of his songs are humorous but songs such as <em>The Poor Sod</em> or <em>Old Molly Metcalfe</em> are most decidedly unfunny. <em>The Remembrance</em> is chilling indictment of war and <em>The Bull</em> is all about, well … bull. And <em>Our Dog</em> is probably my all-time favorite song about dogs. His <em>Remember Bethlehem</em> may be my favorite Christmas song and it is, of course, part of our Christmas/Holiday show. The song is a wonderfully personal re-imagining of the Nativity story — almost as if it had happened in Jake’s native Yorkshire. So, while it may seem a little odd or contradictory that the best liked song of an Irish band should be one written by an Englishman whose chief influence was French song, think of it instead as just another of those Jake Thackray contradictions — one of the inconsistencies that make life so interesting. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3837257
2015-08-31T15:46:31-06:00
2024-02-02T12:14:08-07:00
Book Review: All That Is by James Salter
<p><span class="text-big"><strong><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/6450c6bceb8433cd7bbdee92c3e1514c1db43171/small/all-that-is.jpg?1441057496" class="size_s justify_left border_" />All That Is </strong></span></p><p><i><strong>James Salter </strong></i></p><p>Knopf </p><p>2013, 304 pp. </p><p> </p><p>James Salter, who died recently, was long known as an under-appreciated writer. Critics loved his books but they didn’t sell well. I hadn’t heard of him until this book came out in 2013 and, again, the critics loved it, but it went largely unnoticed. I’ve not read anything else by him, so I can’t tell you anything about his development or how his areas of interest and focus have changed or how age affected his point of view. I can tell you, though, that this is a hugely engaging, but oddly unsatisfying book. </p><p>First, the ‘engaging’ part. It’s wonderfully written; everything you may have heard about Salter being the master of the English sentence, is true. There’s nothing flashy or gaudy, though. In fact, those sentences are buffed to a Brancusi-smooth finish that makes them hugely informative, elegantly constructed and totally easy to read. I don’t think I’ve read anyone with such a huge economy of style. It’s a beautiful thing yet hardly noticeable. </p><p> Whole characters and their histories are displayed to us over the span of a couple of pages, characters who have little more than a walk-on role in the book are drawn with skill and sympathy and come to mind fully formed and real. The book is absolutely full of all kinds of ‘peripheral’ characters who, nonetheless, are the core of the charm of this book. There’s no plot, <i>per se</i>. It’s a telling of the life of a man, Philip Bowman, from his experiences in the Second World War to roughly the present day. Along the way we meet fellow sailors, colleagues, friends, family members and a series of love interests. The love interests seem to all fail — not in a sad-sack ‘guy can’t catch a break’ way. While relationships start very passionately they then seem to just gutter and snuff. </p><p>And this brings me to the second reckoning of this book: “unsatisfying”. </p><p>When we first meet Bowman he’s a likable, slightly prudish, pretty smart guy. And he tends to stay that way just about all of the time. Except for the ‘prudish’ part … there are some plainspoken and to-the-point descriptions of sex throughout the book. But there’s something oddly passive and cold about him, too. As I mentioned, his relationships seem to have a sexual passion but lack a human warmth. This despite the fact that he often seems to be proclaiming a deep love. There’s just something about it that I don’t buy. And I wonder why that is? Am I picking up on something in Salter’s character that feels shallow? Is it that Salter’s prose might be over-polished and lacking emotional grit? Or is this how Salter wishes to portray Bowman? Assuming that it’s the third one, I have to question the success of the portrayal. There’s a jarring act of cruel betrayal towards the end of the book, that seems out of character and at odds with expectations. And while Bowman is no milquetoast, his life is mostly passive. His marriage, his divorce, his friendships, his job all have a feeling of randomness rather that choice … even a possible ‘true love’, redemptive scenario towards the end, has a kind of recumbent inevitability to it. </p><p>So, I enjoyed this book in a lot of ways — it’s witty, it’s often wise, it’s a pleasure to be lulled by the language. It’s full of interesting and colorful characters, great stories … but I don’t get the central character. Or, rather, I don’t feel a moral core to the book. </p><p>In my thoughts, I’ve compared this book to <i>Stoner </i>by John Williams, but in that book there’s a heroic quality to the ordinariness of Stoner’s life: there’s a huge decency to the man. In All That Is there seems to be an amoral lack of real passion. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3800489
2015-08-02T19:55:10-06:00
2022-02-13T12:53:41-07:00
Dog Days of August
<p>We are often gratified to get an email or a note from a fan that lets us know we've had a place in their life through our music. But this recent letter from Randy Patrick (who we do remember from waaay back in the 90's) kind of takes the cake. With his permission, we'll share with you his story of the part he says our music played in setting his life in a new direction as the founder of PawPADS (Pawsitive Perspectives Assistance Dogs). You may want a hanky...<br><br>Dear Mick,<br>I want to share with you the long overdue story about how your and Colcannon's music has impacted many lives far beyond which you could imagine in your dreams.<br><br>Back in the late 80's and through the nineties, when I lived in Greeley and Louisville, Colorado, my wife (at the time) and friends would go listen to you all every chance we got - at the James Pub, in Laramie, and at Curt Gowdy State Park. I still count my "Some Foreign Land" CD - autographed by all of you at the time - as one of my treasures.<br><br>In 1999, I remarried and my wife and I moved to Bosnia, where I had a job with the United Nations. We lived in small city named Goražde. My wife, Linda, became the Country Director for GOAL Ireland - Balkans. GOAL is an international humanitarian organization headquartered in Dún Laoghaire. I eventually went to work for GOAL myself, working for my wife. She supervised reconstruction and reconciliation projects in southeast Bosnia.<br> <br>In 2001, Linda found a puppy foraging in the garbage outside her office. It was alone, hungry, injured, probably by being attacked by other stray dogs. We weren't "dog people" at the time. I didn't want her to name the puppy because I had no intention of keeping it. But, in Bosnian language, people often refer to young children, young goats, sheep, kittens and puppies as "mali" (Molly) - which simply means "small" or "little one." So Molly became the pups name while we treated her injuries, got her fattened up and back to health before, as we planned, we took it out to a village where a family had agreed to take her as a farm dog.<br> <br>For the next few weeks after we took her in, Molly worked her way into Linda's heart. She liked to be held as a baby and would groan when you rubbed her tummy. I, on the other hand remained very practical about it. We lived and worked in a part of the country from which we could have to evacuate quickly due to civil or military violence and we couldn't be weighed down by a dog, could we?!<br><br>On the night before we were to resettle Molly with the villagers, I was sitting out in the garden with her groaning on my lap. I had my “Saint Bartholomew's Feast” CD playing and "Silas" came up. Holding little Molly and listening to "Silas" many times over, I was soon overcome with sadness about sending Molly off. I carried her into our war damaged flat and played "Silas" for Linda. We both tearfully agreed: we had to keep Molly and take care of her.<br><br>Molly changed our lives. She traveled the world with us. Serbia, Kosovo, Central America, all over the United States. What we learned about dogs - we learned from her. Because of her, we became "dog people," eventually taking in a street dog from Honduras and a lab from a shelter in Oregon. <br>More importantly, not only did we fall in love with Molly, but all over the world we were able to take notice of the universal connection dogs have with people, and the potential which that human-canine bond offers as a therapeutic, educational, healing tool. <br>So, in 2005, after I returned to the States from a short posting in Afghanistan, we started "Pawsitive Perspectives Assistance Dogs (PawPADs), a nonprofit, training service dogs for people with physical mobility disabilities. Our programs give volunteers, veterans, inmates, and at-risk youth the opportunity to help raise and train the dogs to be placed with persons with physical disabilities and have recently started placements of diabetic alert dogs and autism support dogs.<br> <br>The point of my story is this: none of this would have been if we had not let ourselves be taken in by Molly. We credit her for inspiring PawPADs and I credit “Silas” for making Molly’s life with us possible.<br> <br>The impact these dogs have on lives spreads out like the waves from a stone in a pond:<br>Jeremy - ” Rio, is a lifeline for our family. He provides assistance, permanent companionship, and a tie to reality. As much as we depend on <br>them, he depends on us.”<br>Andrea’ – “Sage has changed my life! He is my diabetic alert dog and quite frankly the smartest dog I have ever known. His job is to alert me when my blood sugars are out of range. This means my glucose level could be low or high and he will pick this up before I do. In the past I had 4 episodes that I was unconscious and the ambulance needed to be called due to my diabetes. Sage prevents this from happening. He has already proven his worth a thousand times over.”<br>Patrick Zeigler (a wounded warrior shot 4 times in the 2009 Fort Hood shooting, leaving him partially paralyzed): "Ranger has given me back my independence, he is a wonderful companion. With Ranger in our home, Jessica has more free time to spend with our son and her family and friends. And now I can go for a walk with Ranger knowing that I am safe. If I fall, he can help me get up or go for help if I am hurt." Patrick talks of Ranger's intuition that has developed, "It seems that if I just look at something across the room Ranger seems to know what I want and get it for me. It is amazing."<br> <br>Anyway, I’ve wanted to share this with you for a long time, and as Molly passed away last week, I thought it was about time to tell you that your music had a part in creating a legacy that will continue a long time.<br> <br> <br>Randy Patrick<br>Director of Pawsitive Perspectives Assistance Dogs<br>Savage, MN</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3761287
2015-06-30T20:50:41-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:36-07:00
Three short book reviews
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/e5527413f7734a3aa5c0d1191e4f9ad55b050e96/small/old-ways.jpeg?1435718899" class="size_s justify_left border_" />THE OLD WAYS</b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b>A Journey on Foot</b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">By Robert Macfarlane</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Illustrated. 433 pp. Viking.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I am lucky enough to live in Aurora, CO, on the eastern side of the Denver metroplex. I know full well that some from more fashionable parts of town sometimes scoff at our burg and think it a backwater. Still, it has some of the best eating and friendliest people around and for me there’s a bonus in the fact that just a 10 minute walk from my house I can share the day with hawks and eagles, egrets and pelicans, coypu, deer and beaver, in some lovely wild scenery. Coincidentally or not, I have recently been reading quite a bit about the natural world. So in this month’s newsletter we have not one but three, albeit short, book reviews. All three happen to have another book at their core and all involve human interaction with the natural world.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The first of these is <i>The Old Ways: A Journey on Foot </i>by Robert Macfarlane. It was given to me by an old, friend, Cathy Hull, and it’s one of my all-time favorite books. On one level it’s a travelogue of walks taken in England and Scotland and further afield in China, Spain, the Himalayas — but it’s as much an internal journey as an external one. Central to the narrative and spirit of the book is the work of the Anglo-Welsh poet and author, Edward Thomas. Written in taut prose that is nonetheless rich and poetic, the book charts inner and outer journeys. It is abundant with observations on geology, history, plant and animal life, architecture, and insightful ruminations on the human being and our place in the natural world. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">While the book recounts what one would think of as a solitary experience, it teems with fascinating people living lives of connection and passion. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">This is a book than can be profitably dipped into at any time and one that will stay with you a long time.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/0cb5b4d9bca51039a0c67b6998a8de8ef02b3d33/small/h-is-for-hawk.jpeg?1435718968" class="size_s justify_left border_" />H IS FOR HAWK</b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">By Helen Macdonald</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">300 pp. Grove Press.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Another book that was recommended to me by Cathy was <i>H is for Hawk</i>. This book recently won the Costa Prize and it, too, is a treasure. It’s a fiercely honest account of Helen Macdonald’s coming to terms with her father’s death and how she worked through her grief by training a goshawk — a notoriously difficult bird to bend to one’s will. The ruling spirit of this book is an earlier book, <i>The Goshawk</i> by T.H. White (<i>The Once and Future King</i> is his most famous book). I read <i>The Goshawk</i> many years ago — it was one of the few books I brought with me when I moved to the US — and it was a book that captivated me, as it did the author of this book. There are no trite solutions in this book and no myths of bonding with a wild animal. It is, rather, a book of deep acceptance of the way things are and how those who have a deep history in a place are perhaps the most fortunate among us. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/dbbcb5823ba104d0d9916c2c3a97115349b6d663/small/shepardslife.jpeg?1435719014" class="size_s justify_left border_" />THE SHEPHERD’S LIFE</b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Modern Dispatches From an Ancient Landscape</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">By James Rebanks</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Illustrated. 293 pages. Flatiron Books.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">On that theme, I come to a third book: <i>A Shepherd’s Life</i> by James Rebanks. This book, too, was inspired by another. In this case it was <i>A Shepherd’s Life</i> by W.H. Hudson (1910). </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Rebanks was born and raised on a sheep farm in the English Lake District and his school career was a disaster. He was written off as a failure and was happy to be thought so, but he changed his mind about reading and learning when he came across and read Hudson’s book. Thrilled to find “people like us” therein, he acquired the habit of reading voraciously, and attended night school. On the urging of a teacher, he applied to Oxford University and was accepted. At no point, though, does he ever think about permanently leaving the fells and the sheep and the old way of life. When he finishes at Oxford, he returns to his home and former life.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The book recounts a year in the life of a shepherd — the joys and frustrations, the beauty and the misery and the unsentimental pride in having deep roots in a place and pride in one’s work. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The prose is … well, a little <i>prosey</i> at times, but is equally poetic and moving at others. It reads easily and eloquently and there’s a kind of matter-of-factness about it that’s quite refreshing if, at times, perhaps a little disingenuous. His recounting of his disastrous school career and his later triumphant acceptance by Oxford feels a little glossed over and not feel quite like full disclosure. And his insistence with his children that things be done the proper way, feels like there might be a tyrant in the making. It is, as his four-year-old daughter says, “all about the sheep”. Still, it’s a remarkable book and a timely one. While there is evidence that many of the old ways of life and living are making a comeback among younger generations, many communities are under siege by the modern world as old values and traditions are threatened.</p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3761277
2015-06-30T20:45:04-06:00
2022-05-30T06:05:56-06:00
Recipe Pasta with Lemon, Parsley and Garbanzos
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 16px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/93f0610615236198602cbe9a6e5b3eeeae8a6f1f/small/lemon-garbanzo.jpg?1435718005" class="size_s justify_left border_thin" alt="" /></b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; text-align: center; font-size: 16px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b>Pasta with Lemon, Parsley and Garbanzos </b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 17px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The recipe this month is an uncomplicated affair and all the better for it. It could be a vegan meal if one left out the parmesan and usually I do. I don’t think it needs the cheese but it doesn’t suffer from its addition, either. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I got this from a cookbook called Paradiso Seasons by Dennis Cotter. <a href="http://www.cafeparadiso.ie"><span style="color: rgb(4, 51, 255); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255);">Cafe Paradiso</span></a> is a renowned vegetarian restaurant in Cork and though Cotter is something of a wizard in the kitchen this <a href="http://www.cafeparadiso.ie/recipes"><span style="color: rgb(4, 51, 255); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255);">recipe</span></a> was put together by his wife and it’s winner. It’s easy to make, unfussy and thoroughly tasty. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I make my own pasta — it’s easier than I feared it would be and, though it takes a bit longer to make, it takes less time to cook. In any case, try to time the cooking of the pasta with the arrival of the lemon/garbanzo sauce</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b>Ingredients</b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> large handful flat leaf parsley, chopped coarsely</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> 1/4 cup <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/olive_oil">olive oil</a></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> zest of one lemon, sliced into thin pieces</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> ½ lemon, juice only</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> 1/2 can cooked garbanzos</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> enough pasta for two people (fettuccine or linguini)</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> salt </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> freshly ground black pepper</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> pecorino or parmesan, finely grated (optional)</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b>Preparation method </b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b> </b>Put water on to boil for pasta. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Warm the olive oil in a wide pan. Add lemon, lemon juice, a little salt and ground pepper and the garbanzos and gently heat through for a few minutes. Take off heat and add chopped parsley. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Drain the pasta and stir in the olive oil, lemon zest and juice, the chickpeas and parsley. Adjust seasoning to taste.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 36px; text-indent: -36px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Serve the pasta in warm bowls with optional cheese and a green salad</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3728288
2015-06-03T18:27:45-06:00
2022-02-17T08:43:13-07:00
Book Review: History of the Rain
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/aa6ace82f91dd7509ef2f6279ed3cbe3ce811cb1/small/history-of-the-rain.jpg?1433377489" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><span class="font_large"><strong>History of the Rain </strong></span><br><em>Bloomsbury USA </em><br>2014 369 pp. <br><br>Niall Williams is not a writer I had heretofore been familiar with. I can’t imagine how I could have been so remiss. This book, his eighth novel, was long-listed for the Man Booker prize in 2014 and, most years, I will read at least one contender from that list. Last year I decided that Paul Kingsnorth’s <i>The Wake</i> looked interesting — it was — and I have, coincidentally, a couple of other books from that list waiting their turn, but I hadn’t thought to read this one until it was mentioned in an email from a friend. And then I got it for Christmas and just last week, got ‘round to reading it — and it’s a keeper.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It’s one of those books that’s very easy to read on the surface, full of vivid descriptions and pithy observations. It has allusions to any number of books and is full of wit and cheerful erudition. It’s funny, engaging and at the same time it’s both deeply sad and hugely hopeful. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Beneath a fairly straightforward story of a man who seems “doomed” (as he says in his own words) to “fail at everything I try”, a much richer story is being told of what it means to be a success, of the question of what is a valid way to live one’s life. Metaphors of rain and water and air, of diving and soaring, run through the book and the omnipresent river Shannon is central to the story. The epigraph in the front of the book is from Ted Hughes: “Everything is on its way to the river” and therein lies the heart of the story. There is an air of other-worldliness that turns the book into a sort of allegory. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Set in the west of Ireland in County Clare, the book’s narrator is Ruth Swain, daughter of Virgil Swain. She suffers from an unidentified medical condition and is confined to a boat-like bed in an attic room that houses her father’s library. As the book starts she says “The longer my father lived in this world the more he knew there was another to come. It was not that he thought the world beyond saving, although in darkness I suppose there was some of that, but rather that he imagined there must be a finer one where God corrected His mistakes and men and women lived in the second draft of Creation and did not know despair.” </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">From this beginning she tells her father’s story, not so much to find him — as the dust jacket says — as to present him in a richer reality than his apparent failures. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><i>“</i></span>We are our stories. We tell them to stay alive or keep alive those who only live now in the telling. In Faha, County Clare, everyone is a long story…” says Ruth. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">A lone figure, Virgil Swain has spent his life, like his father and grandfather before him, trying to live up the The Impossible Standard of the Swains. At a pivotal point in his life, he finds a spot by the river Shannon that he believes is where he belongs and there decides to take up salmon fishing — the fish that brings wisdom. It is in that spot that he meets the woman he will marry and close by that spot he will know great sorrow … </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I liked this book a lot. I found it wonderfully human and warm — the narrator is funny and sympathetic and the the main characters engaging and admirable. It is a very sad book at certain points but, overall, it is full of hope and life. Recommended. </p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3728287
2015-06-03T18:23:33-06:00
2022-02-15T06:34:48-07:00
Recipe: Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie
<p style="margin: 0px; text-align: center; font-size: 15px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b>Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie </b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/925648ab046cbf500e193026f0177789d58bacee/small/strawberry-rhubarb-w-vanilla-ice-cream.jpg?1433377349" class="size_s justify_left border_" />Now that Summer’s here and strawberries are cheap and rhubarb is prodigious in the garden, it’s time to get to work and make some pie. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">This recipe is easy. You can make your own crust, but I buy a pre-made crust from the store and the rest of the recipe is pretty much just assembly. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It’s a somewhat more ‘grown-up’ pie than most, slightly on the tart side — no pun intended. If you like you pie sweeter, just add some more sugar.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">1lb rhubarb cut in ½ in. pieces </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">1 lb strawberries in ½ in. pieces</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">½ cup granulated sugar </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">¼ cup light brown sugar </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">1 Tbs lemon juice </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">pinch of salt </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">¼ cup quick-cooking tapioca<br>2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces<br>1egg yolk </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Preheat oven to 400º</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">In a large bowl combine the chopped rhubarb, strawberries, sugars, lemon juice, tapioca and a pinch of salt. Put into the bottom pie crust. Add the dots of butter, spacing them among the fruit. Beat the egg yolk with a teaspoon of water. Brush the rims of the both pie crusts with the mixture and place the second pie crust on top of the bottom one. Crimp the two crusts together. Make a few holes in the crust and brush with the remainder of the egg mixture. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Bake in the oven for about a half-hour, then reduce the temperature to 350º and bake about another half-hour. Remove from the oven and cool. Excellent with vanilla ice-cream. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3684343
2015-04-30T14:29:32-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:35-07:00
CD Review: Julie Murphy & Dylan Fowler – Ffawd
<span class="font_large"><strong><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/5093b35da75ca2a1b1305f038e78ca3b89d834f5/small/ffawd.jpg?1430425732" class="size_s justify_left border_" />Julie Murphy & Dylan Fowler – Ffawd</strong></span><br><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Label: </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Ffl</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">ach Tradd</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> – CD248H </span>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">2001</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 17px;"><span style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Just for a change here’s a quick recommendation for you. It’s a recording of Welsh traditional songs and has been a favorite of mine for some time now </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Julie Murphy is a Welsh singer best known for her work with the band Fernhill and Dylan Fowler is a guitarist/arranger of the first order. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">This collaboration (the title means fate or fortune) is a gem of its kind. All the songs are sung in Welsh and though I am sadly totally ignorant of the language this whole recording is beguiling and endlessly listenable. Those who have listened to traditional song from this part of the world will recognize the the harmonic minor scale so often used and emotional ambiguity of the sound. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Murphy’s voice is a thing of crystalline beauty — strong and clear — and Fowler’s guitar is a fine example of how to accommodate a traditional song with imagination and respect. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">You can hear some tracks on YouTube and the album is available on iTunes and Amazon. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Highly recommended.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3684339
2015-04-30T14:24:14-06:00
2022-10-15T03:09:22-06:00
Recipe: Coconut Chana Saag
<p><strong><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/a19f22f4c00e7569ac0035e9fe20037786184016/small/p1030517.jpg?1430425380" class="size_s justify_left border_" />Coconut chana saag</span></strong><br>I’m a big fan of garbanzos and I love this recipe. It’s easy to make and it’s hugely tasty and satisfying. I found the recipe on the Guardian website and played around with it a little bit — for preference rather than improvement. The original called for kale but for expedience I’ve substituted frozen chopped spinach. </p>
<p><span style="color: rgb(50, 51, 51); font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The rest of recipe remains much the same.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br><b>2 Tbsp refined coconut oil or canola oil</b><br><b>1 medium yellow onion, diced</b><br><b>3 cloves garlic, minced</b><br><b>2 Tbsp minced fresh ginger</b><br><b>2 Tbsp mild curry powder</b><br><b>1 tsp salt</b><br><b>a Good grinding of black pepper</b><br><b>½ tsp anise seeds (or crushed fennel seeds)</b><br><b>¼ tsp garam masala</b><br><b>½ tsp ground cumin</b><br><b>¼ tsp cayenne (or more or less, depending on how spicy you like it)</b><br><b>1 24 oz can of whole tomatoes</b><br><b>2 15 oz cans garbanzos, rinsed and drained</b><br><b>8 oz (or more) frozen chopped spinach</b><br><b>1 13.5 oz can of coconut milk</b><br> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b><i>For serving: cooked basmati rice and lime wedges</i></b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Saute the onion in the oil for 5 minutes.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Add the garlic and ginger and saute briefly. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Add the curry powder, anise seeds, garam masala, cumin and cayenne, and stir in well. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Add the tomato juice from the tin and stir. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Add the salt and pepper. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Chop up the tomatoes in the can or whir them briefly in a food processor. Add to the pot. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Add the garbanzos and mix well.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Cook, covered for about 10 minutes and don’t let it burn. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Add the frozen spinach and make sure any lumps are broken up and cook for another 5 minutes. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Add the coconut milk and heat through.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Check your seasoning. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(50, 51, 51); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Serve with basmati rice and a wedge of lime for squeezing over the curry. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3566825
2015-03-01T14:25:11-07:00
2017-01-13T17:16:35-07:00
Book Review: Vivid Faces - The Revolutionary Generation in Ireland, 1890-1923
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/fc715ce86e7483772728f2dfea829079fd43de31/small/vivid-faces.jpg?1425245011" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><br><br><br><span class="font_regular">I</span>t doesn’t seem that long ago. April 1966. It was the fiftieth anniversary of the 1916 rebellion and ceremonies were being held at my school. The clergy were in attendance — no surprise there; the school was a Franciscan college. But as I recall there was at least one high-ranking bishop. And there was a troop of veterans from the conflict itself; men that looked very old to me at fifteen, but who were probably in their mid-70s. My honor was to play the salute to the flag as it was raised in ceremony. My trumpet was well-shone and the rendition note-perfect. About this time next year the celebrations for the one-hundredth anniversary will be winding up in earnest and I have no doubt that the whole endeavor will come under much more scrutiny than it did those fifty years ago. <br><span style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Just in time for the anniversary and the the ensuing debates is a fascinating book by R.F. Foster, whose book </span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Modern Ireland</i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> is regarded by many as the definitive history of Ireland since 1600. The new book, </span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Vivid Faces - The Revolutionary Generation in Ireland, 1890-1923</i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">, gets its title from the iconic poem by Yeats, Easter 1916:</span>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"><i> </i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> <br><br> I have met them at close of day</i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> Coming with vivid faces</i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> From counter or desk among grey </i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> Eighteenth-century houses.</i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> I have passed with a nod of the head </i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> Or polite meaningless words, </i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> Or have lingered awhile and said</i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> Polite meaningless words,</i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> And thought before I had done</i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> Of a mocking tale or a gibe</i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> To please a companion</i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> Around the fire at the club, </i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> Being certain that they and I</i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> But lived where motley is worn: … </i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">My first understanding of the Easter Uprising (as it’s most commonly known) was pretty much the standard hagiographies of the executed leaders (with somewhat scanter attention paid to Connolly) and a romantic story that these poets (which many were) sacrificed themselves in order to shake the Irish people out of their slumber and to instigate a rebellion that would eventually lead to Irish freedom. Over the years I’ve learned that it was much more complicated than that at a political level but Foster’s book explains how much more complicated it was on a human level. The cultural and social forces at work were many and sometimes contradictory. There were those who looked to an idealized past of heroes and noble thoughts and deeds. There were women struggling for suffrage who believed that a revolution would clear the decks of all the old hide-bound ways and that a new beginning would come about. There were Northern Unionists from well-to-do families who were in revolt against their history and their class. There were socialists who wanted to establish a new order and level social inequities. There were Catholic mystics with yearning for blood sacrifice … </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Though all this, however, was the fact the a bill of Home Rule, granting autonomy to Ireland but keeping it as part of the United Kingdom, had already been signed by the British Parliament but was suspended due to the First World War. Unionist factions in the North of Ireland — those who supported union with Great Britain and were thus against Home Rule — had started arming to stave off any implementation and the Irish Volunteers (a paramilitary group in the Southern part of the country) also started arming in response. All of this was done more or less openly in front of the English authorities. In fact, it’s quite astonishing how much rebellious oratory, writing, performing, drilling and training was done right under the noses of said authorities. They were either reluctant to deal with the issue — other than the fact that some of the rebels were intent on securing help from Germany — or they didn’t believe that what was being so openly threatened was anything more than bravado. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Based on diaries, personal letters and interviews in the Archives of Military History of Ireland, the book is at once an engrossing read and a thicket of information. It’s immaculately researched with reams of notes. many of the names were familiar to me but for someone coming to the story with only a passing knowledge it could be a bit impenetrable. Foster also takes various observation points, looking at the actors from different angles and, while this helps to build a more three-dimensional portrait of the subjects, it can also get confusing. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Still, this is a hugely worthwhile book and a great addition to the literature on the subject. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3566823
2015-03-01T14:20:37-07:00
2022-02-13T13:03:10-07:00
Documentary Review: Rocky Road to Dublin
<p><strong><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/a4cc62e516985b7a9e6e6f49d4592935338cc5a4/small/rocky-road-to-dublin.jpg?1425244799" class="size_s justify_left border_" />Rocky Road to Dublin</span></strong></p>
<p><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">This documentary film has only recently come to light again after being missing in action for the last forty years. Made by Peter Lennon in 1967, it features cinematography by Raoul Coutard who was hugely influential in the Nouvelle Vague school of French cinema. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It’s a partly affectionate and partly scathing portrait of a country just beginning modernization but still struggling to look outward into a world that it had long held at arm’s length. On St. Patrick’s Day 1943 the then Taoiseach (Prime Minister) of Ireland, Eamonn DeValera, made a famous radio speech in which he said <i>“The ideal Ireland that we would have, the Ireland that we dreamed of, would be the home of a people who valued material wealth only as a basis for right living, of a people who, satisfied with frugal comfort, devoted their leisure to the things of the spirit – a land whose countryside would be bright with cosy homesteads, whose fields and villages would be joyous with the sounds of industry, with the romping of sturdy children, the contest of athletic youths and the laughter of happy maidens, whose firesides would be forums for the wisdom of serene old age. The home, in short, of a people living the life that God desires that men should live.”</i> In keeping with this vision Ireland had become a society uninvolved with the rest of the world. Even the Second World War was not acknowledged as such. In a neutral Ireland it was known as The Emergency. Strenuous attempts were made to resist contamination of the Irish psyche by jazz music, English novels and films, immoral dancing and the myriad possible temptations of the modern world. Attempts were made to codify and categorize native Irish culture and sports — attempts that in the case of Irish traditional music often drove the means of its survival into the industrial cities of England and the US.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The tone of the film is apparent very early on. The writer Seán O’Faoláin who had fought in the Irish Civil War and was author of the cultural history, ‘The Irish’, speaks of the post-1916 generation. He says:<i> “The kind of society that actually grew up was a society of what I call urbanized peasants. They were a society which was without moral courage, constantly observing a self-interested silence, never speaking in moments of crisis and in constant alliance with a completely obscurantist, repressive, regressive and uncultivated Church.”</i> A very different tone from that of DeValera. Or as Bulmer Hobson, one of the main actors of the 1916 said in 1956 — quoted in Roy Foster’s <i>Vivid Faces</i> — <i>“I cannot and will not write about the people and times when we were young, for reasons that are long and complicated. Briefly the phoenix of our youth has fluttered to earth such a miserable old hen I have no heart for it …”</i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The film was entered at the Cannes film festival in 1968 and was shown just before the the festival was abandoned in support of student protests of that year. It managed to have a brief run of two weeks in Dublin to sold-out audiences. It has never been shown on Irish television and despite the (not surprising) snub that it received in Ireland it became a huge success with those very students who brought the Cannes film festival to close. The film provided a cautionary answer to the old question of “What do you do with your revolution now that you have it?’ In Ireland that answer, sadly, was “Give it to the Church and the bourgeoisie.” <br><br>The full film is actually now available for viewing on Youtube. The quality of the file conversion was not terribly good so the resolution is poor compared to the DVD. It's still quite watchable though. <br style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://youtu.be/V_1NCJwHYMY" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">http://youtu.be/V_1NCJwHYMY</a> <br> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3498768
2015-02-01T15:55:07-07:00
2022-02-13T13:04:31-07:00
Book Review: The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters
<p><b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/92da229b3e497cdac6cba3a1c9ff031bec32fee3/small/paying-guests-by-sarah-waters-on-bookdragon.jpg?1422831267" class="size_s justify_left border_" />The Paying Guests </b><br><i style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Sarah Waters </i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Riverhead Books </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">New York 2014 </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">564 pp. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 17px;"><b>A</b></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">s I write this it dawns on me that I’ve never before reviewed a book that was currently in the bestsellers lists. This is a little ironic given that Sarah Waters has never set a book in today’s society. Past works have been set in Victorian times (</span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Tipping the Velvet</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">, </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Affinity</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> and </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Fingersmith</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">), in the 1940s (</span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The Night Watch</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> and </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The Little Stranger</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">) and now, this one, </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The Paying Guests,</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> set in 1922.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have no great feelings, one way or the other, about historical fiction. I’ve encountered some egregiously bad examples and some splendid achievements. In the latter category, I’d put Hilary Mantel’s Cromwell books. I do think, though, that it’s a very difficult genre to carry off well and Sarah Waters does a great job here.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The story is set in London in 1922. WWI has ended and London (where the story is set) is a place badly bruised from all that it has suffered. The old order will never be the same and privilege is giving way to a new middle-class and the emergence of a more independent and prouder working-class. Imagism and, more precisely, Modernism is at the heart of a new bohemian aesthetic and, though women have yet to get full voting rights, an independent and suffragist spirit is gaining strength.* </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Frances Wray and her mother live in a barely kept-up large house in a ‘respectable’ part of London. Frances’s father died some years before after squandering the family’s assets and both of her brothers were killed in the war. To make ends meet she and her mother decide to take in lodgers — the paying guests of the title — a young couple, Leonard and Lilian Barber. Leonard is a clerk at an insurance company; Lilian stays at home, bored and passing the time making their apartment more ‘artistic’. Initial shyness and the new oddity of the living arrangements for both parties, gives way to a friendship and then to a romance. Those who are familiar with Sarah Waters’ work will not be surprised to learn that the romance is between Frances and Lilian. And then things take a turn — a very bad turn — for the worse.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It was just before this turn that I nearly stopped reading. While the romance was passionate and engaging, I grew a bit tired of it. I was getting a feeling of being in some ‘chick lit’ novel. I actually dislike that term and have seen it applied unfairly to several writers that I admire. But the fact is that about a third of the way through a rather long book I was beginning to lose interest. But after putting the book aside for a day, I found myself thinking about it and finding the characters coming to life in my imagination. And this, I think, is Sarah Waters’ great strength as a writer. Her characters are at once recognizable and thoroughly original. Clearly and quickly limned, they nonetheless have nothing of the caricature about them. And the main characters are very deeply human, given to extraordinary strengths and shabby weaknesses. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I’m trying hard to avoid any spoilers here but I will say that there were times when I had to stop reading because the tension was starting to un-nerve me. An earlier Sarah Waters book, <i>The Little Stranger, </i> had a similar effect on me. It’s easily one of the most unsettling, creepy books I’ve ever read. <i>The Paying Guests</i>, in its own way is equally dread-filled but it does resolve and makes, in the end, for a very satisfying and worthwhile read. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">* For more on the zeitgeist of the times, I’d recommend the book reviewed last month: <i>The Most Dangerous Book: The Battle for James Joyce’s Ulysses</i>. <i>Ulysses</i> was published in 1922, the same year in which the action in <i>The Paying Guests</i> is set.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3449442
2015-01-02T11:14:11-07:00
2017-01-13T17:16:35-07:00
Book review: The Most Dangerous Book: The Battle for James Joyce's Ulysses
<b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/428569c5adb7a2737274e0ca9063ebfea3f736f9/small/mostdangerousbook.jpg?1420222426" class="size_s justify_left border_" />The Most Dangerous Book - The Battle for James Joyce’s Ulysses. </b><br><i style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Kevin Birmingham</i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The Penguin Press 2014 </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">pp. 432 </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">James Joyce’s <i>Ulysses</i> is one of those books that is hard to separate from its reputation. At one time that reputation would declare the book obscene; today the reputation is of a book that is obscure and difficult. And yet, despite the fact that it remains largely unread, it is a book that is cited as the great literary achievement of the twentieth century. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Kevin Birmingham’s history of the great struggles Joyce went through to write it — grinding poverty and years of painful trouble with his eyes — and the protracted and courageous efforts of his supporters to get it published, is an exhilarating and deeply informative read. It puts <i>Ulysses</i> in its historical context, right at the heart of modernism, which was, at the time of the First World War, a motley and disconnected insurgency of suffragists, anarchists, socialists and various types of artists. The flag-bearers of all these movements were small magazines devoted to their own particular causes, be those causes literary, feminist or political, and it was in these small publications that Joyce’s work first appeared. <i>The Egoist</i>, edited by Ezra Pound and later by Harriet Shaw Weaver was the first magazine to print excerpts from <i>Ulysses</i> and were among the first to publish T.S. Eliot. Later, <i>The Little Review</i>, based in New York and edited by the redoubtable Margaret Anderson — and with Ezra Pound as foreign editor — took up the cause and continued publishing the book in serial form. But <i>Ulysses</i> was deemed obscene in the US under the Comstock Act and under the Obscene Publications Act in Britain. (The book, contrary to legend, was never banned in Ireland but because the British publishing industry dominated the Irish market it meant that the book was only ever clandestinely available.) Eventually Morris Ernst, a lawyer and co-founder of the ACLU, forced the issue to trial in the US. He imported the book from France, with glowing reviews from intellectual authorities pasted into the cover. He alerted the US authorities of its arrival by steamship. He claimed it from customs when it wasn’t confiscated and forced the authorities to press charges against the book. Random House publishing group also managed to import a copy under the 1930 Tariff Act, citing a loophole and claiming the book as a modern classic. Thus the stage was set for the argument that, yes, <i>Ulysses</i> was obscene in some parts (a very small portion of the book) but that the book itself had such merit that it outweighed the importance of the objectionable material. The resulting ruling by Judge John Woolsey was that <i>Ulysses</i> should be allowed into the United States. He saw Joyce’s work as an honest attempt to portray the real thoughts of his characters and if some of those thoughts were sexual and discomfiting, well, Joyce was being loyal to his technique. (It’s interesting, too, that the first amendment was never even considered as an argument for the publication of <i>Ulysses.</i> Until the middle of the twentieth century it was considered that the first amendment was to do with political speech.) </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I’ve been a fan of <i>Ulysses</i> for many years and will admit that it’s not a book that gave up its pleasures very readily. I had a couple of false starts, flailing about trying to find a handrail by which I might find direction and feel reassured that I was understanding what was going on. Oddly enough, it was after I’d read <i>Finnegans Wake</i> that I went back to <i>Ulysses</i> and was able to navigate without running too far aground. <i>Finnegans Wake</i> taught me not to worry too much about sense and to immerse myself in the language and the impressions that it created. Thus was I able to approach <i>Ulysses</i> and let it wash over me without needing to be guided by some omniscient narrator. Sense started to become apparent in time and I just had to trust that Joyce was not being deliberately arcane or difficult. He was trying to say what he needed to say in the way he needed to say it. I would, however, suggest that if you decide to read it — there’s a New Year’s Resolution for you — that you might want to use Harry Blamires' book <i>The Bloomsday Book</i> or some other such guide. The Blamires is something of an icon in Joyceana and a fine introduction.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">This is not to say that one reading will give you all that there is to be gotten from the book. My father thought that it should be read every year and that every year new understandings of the book and of oneself would present themselves. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have a little shelf in my library devoted to things Joycean. <i>The Most Dangerous Book</i> will take its place there and will probably be re-read soon. It’s a fine book. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3449439
2015-01-02T11:11:20-07:00
2022-02-13T13:20:31-07:00
Recipe: Sherry Trifle
<p><b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/fe285fbaedbbf344763c446e60316743a203c8c2/small/trifle.jpg?1420222253" class="size_s justify_left border_" />Sherry Trifle </b></p>
<p><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It’s the new year and, no doubt, there will be those who are not interested in a new recipe for a dessert. And there will be some, like me, who for one reason or another must leave alcohol alone. So, this recipe is going out into the world to be greeted by a third contingent, the one that likes trifle but is quite convinced that what I’m about to describe is ‘not a real trifle’. That, to me, is the sign of a classic dish. In any case, this was a special dessert in my youth and it still holds its own.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Sponge cake or sponge fingers — 6 oz. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Sherry — sweet is best — 1/4 cup or to taste </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Raspberry jello — about a pint </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Fruit — this can be fresh strawberries/raspberries or a can (10 oz.) of fruit cocktail </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Homemade custard: </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> 6 egg yolks </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> 1½ cups of heavy cream warmed</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> ½ cup sugar </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> 1Tbsp vanilla extract </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Mix the sugar, vanilla extract and the egg yolks in a bowl. Then add the warmed cream nice and slowly. Pour through a sieve back into the saucepan and cook gently for about 20 minutes. With custard it’s always “low and slow”. You can make this while the jello is setting. See below. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Whipped cream (optional) </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Sprinkles (obligatory) </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">In a clear bowl, line the bottom with the sponge and drizzle the sherry over it. Give it a minute to soak in. Then add the fruit. Fresh fruit may be preferred but I have no objections to a drained can of fruit cocktail. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Next pour over the dissolved jello and let it set. You can put it in the fridge to help it along. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">When the jello has set, gently pour over the warm custard and, again, put in the fridge to set. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Now you may want to decorate with whipped cream and sprinkles or just with sprinkles on the set custard. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The idea is that this should look festive and a little decadent, so fruit cocktail is a nice colorful touch along with the red jello and the yellow custard and, of course, the sprinkles. There are special trifle bowls that you can use, and they are a nice touch, but any clear bowl that allows you to see the different layers will work.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">A more sophisticated version can be made with fresh seasonal fruit, homemade sponge or sometimes a different liquor, such as kirschwasser. You’ll also see recipes that go the other direction and ask for a custard made from a powder such as Bird’s Custard. There are some that have a nostalgic longing for such things but you are really much better of with a homemade custard. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">You can omit the sherry if you wish but the sprinkles are mandatory.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3346817
2014-12-01T13:07:28-07:00
2022-02-17T08:46:36-07:00
Book Review: The Spinning Heart
<p><b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/6496d1cd2de8253b673d96d474f9d3743dbe71fc/small/the-spinning-heart.jpg?1417464243" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><span class="font_large">The Spinning Heart </span></b><br><i style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Donal Ryan </i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Steerforth 2014 </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">160 pp. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Bobby Mahon is well-liked and respected. His wife loves him and more than a few of the local women fancy him. He’s capable, honest and decent. He’s also saddled with a monster of a father who is cold, abusive and, by half-way through the book, dead. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Bobby and his story are the hub of the book, around which all the other stories and voices revolve and, by my count, there are twenty-one narrators and chapters. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> The book is set in post-boom rural Ireland. The great affluence of the Celtic Tiger has evaporated almost overnight. The international computer company has closed its doors and the local construction company — at which Bobby is a foreman — has gone broke and its crooked owner has left town. Bobby and his co-workers are left in the lurch, unable to draw unemployment insurance because Pokey Burke, their erstwhile employer, failed to pay into the insurance fund and seems to have paid no taxes either. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The book is not about a story though — not the dying economy or even the murder of Bobby’s father. Rather, it’s about a lot of stories. One event seen through multiple sets of eyes tells us about the speakers and how their places in the world change or remain the same. Characters are described by a narrator or several narrators, only to have their chance to tell their own story later. The book opens with Bobby’s voice: ”My father still lives back the road past the weir in the cottage I was reared in. I go there every day to see is he dead and every day he lets me down.” All the other voices in the book concur with Booby’s low opinion of his father, Frank … and then, close to the end of the book, we get the voice of the dead Frank and it’s powerfully moving. We see for the first time the old man’s abject loneliness, the huge damage done him, in his time, by a brutal father and his inability to break a way of being that he knows is destroying love all around him. That theme of father son relationship occurs with many characters and apart from the very final scene of the book, all those relationships are bad or going bad. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> But there is much humour in this book and some wonderful characters. There’s the whore with a heart of gold, now aging badly and abandoned — yes, the hoariest of clichés — but she is a wonderful, generous soul and to be admired. There are a couple of totally incompetent Satanists manqués, a Siberian subbie i.e. day labourer, whose voice is one of the loveliest in the book. There’s the young guy who’s practically being seduced by a girl he fancies and still can’t summon the courage to meet her at a dance. “it’s there for me and I won’t take it” he observes. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> As I was reading I kept thinking of <em>Spoon River Anthology</em> or the Irish <em>Cré na Cille</em>. All those many voices, criss-crossing, confirming, contradicting, illuminating — and I wondered about how they manage to sound so individual. The secret, I think, is in the attitudes of the characters. Any attempt to make voices that were hugely different linguistically would have been a disaster. Indeed, the simple fact that all the people involved are from the same very close society would have made it impossible. So, character comes first and language comes second. And while the language is a vibrant, occasionally profane and always colourful symphony, the author Donal Ryan doesn’t overdo it. You will notice different patterns of speech from speaker to speaker but it’s often very subtle and, just in case it all starts to sound just a bit bit too vernacularly Irish, he resorts to a very plain, matter-of-fact prose. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> This Donal Ryan’s first book and it’s fully formed and masterful. I recommend it highly. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3263226
2014-11-02T17:17:02-07:00
2017-01-13T17:16:35-07:00
Book Review: The Wake
<b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/db289502173fc10f9c55e7475d530f6a42350a3f/small/wake-cover-illustration.jpg?1414973650" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><br><span class="font_large">The Wake </span></b><br><i style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Paul Kingsnorth</i>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b>Unbound 2014 </b></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>the night was clere though i slept i seen it. though i slept i seen the calm hierde naht only the still. when i gan down to sleep all was clere in the land and my dreams was full of stillness but my dreams did not keep me still. </i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i> when i woc in the morgen all was blaec though the night had gan and wolde be blaec after and for all time. </i></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">So begins this remarkable book. Written in ‘a shadow tongue’ that bears a passing resemblance to Old English, it’s the story of Buccmaster of Holland, a ‘socman of three oxgangs’ i.e. a freeholder of sixty acres, in the eastern part of Lincolnshire. The date is 1066 and Buccmaster has premonitions of impending doom. Soon England will be overrun by Norman horsemen and professional soldiers fighting against English peasants armed with farm tools. We all know the outcome and the fact that it would be three-hundred years before England would be ruled again by a monarch who spoke English. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The first thing you will notice about this book is the language and, at first, it can be confusing. There is, you’ll note, almost no punctuation other than the period and that seems to be a concession to ease of interpretation. There’s no capitalization. All is written as it might have been in the time that the action takes place and before the advent of printing when punctuation was added as an aid to reading aloud. There are no words (with few exceptions) that that did not originate in Old English and no letters that did not exist in the Old English alphabet — k, v, j and q are all absent. (The swearing, while quintessentially Anglo-Saxon, reads as quite modern, however.)</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">But this use of language is not a gimmick. As the author, Paul Kingsnorth writes: “ … I simply didn’t get along with historical novels written in contemporary language. The way we speak is specific to our time and place. Our assumptions, our politics, our worldview, our attitudes — all are implicit in our words and what we do with them.” </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">And it all works remarkably well. The intonation is rural England — sometimes reminiscent of the West Country, sometimes of East Anglia or even Yorkshire; but the ‘voice’ is Buccmaster. Arrogant, visionary, blind and self-pitying, the character is complex and rich. Unfortunately, perhaps, he’s not very likable, which in a book that takes a while to find its stride, might put readers off. But the language becomes second-nature after a little while and there’s a short glossary and a guide to pronunciation that are both very helpful. Then the book becomes riveting and the character of Buccmaster comes vividly and fiercely to life.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The sense of place and time are hugely powerful here. Buccmaster is suddenly and brutally wrenched from his world and angrily rejects the new order imposed on England by the shaven-faced foreigners. He longs for an even older pre-Christian England of ancient gods and old ways and, as the book progresses, his identity with this lost past starts to become unhinged as scenes from an anguished youth reveal themselves. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">This not so much a ‘ripping yarn’ as an immersion in an alien world made doubly strange by dislocation and mental derangement. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">‘Buccmaster’ is not an Old English name. It is, the author explains, a name that came to hime and wouldn’t let go. The ‘Holland’ mentioned is not the Netherlands but rather a low-lying, fictitious place near the fens of Lincoln. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">There is a powerful story here and strongly drawn characters. It’s a book rife with startlingly poetic language — some of the descriptions of the fen country are hugely moving — and it’s a book that still haunts me.</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I discovered it while doing a search for a monograph dealing with <em>Finnegans Wake</em> — popularly referred to as ‘The Wake’ and probably the Grandaddy of all books written in a ‘shadow language’. It’s the kind of book I love, as alien and absorbing as another favorite, <em>Riddley Walker</em>, and I recommend it with the <i>caveat </i>that you may not find an initial easy trail through the language. If you persist, it’s worth it. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3263214
2014-11-02T17:11:14-07:00
2022-05-26T10:36:03-06:00
Recipe: Elderflower Cheesecake
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/408881d3d359c0890695672338a0f6fac077417d/medium/baker.jpg?1414973417" class="size_m justify_left border_" />This is a recipe for elderflower cheesecake. In keeping with the English theme and the historical flavor of the newsletter I decided to take a look in a recipe book that I bought some 30 years ago, called <em>To the King’s Taste</em>. It’s a collection of medieval recipes adapted for modern cooking by Lorna J. Sass.</p>
<p><span style="font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I was browsing through it and in the dessert section I saw this recipe. I was immediately transported back to a lunch Jean and I had with our old friends Geoff and Ros Peckham at a restaurant in Lewes, East Sussex a couple of years ago. Jean saw an elderflower cordial on the menu and decided to try it. It was very good and she became an immediate fan. When I saw this recipe I knew that this was what I’d been looking for. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">(Dried elderflowers are available online and at some wine and beer-making supply stores. I’d read that they are sometimes sold at Mexican grocery stores but when I went looking for them in my neighborhood I had no luck.)</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br><br><br>a nine-inch unbaked pie crust </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">3 Tbs of dried elderflowers</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">4 Tbs heavy cream </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">½ cup of sugar </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">½ lb farmers cheese </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">½ lb ricotta cheese </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">2 tsp dry bread crumbs </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">6 egg whites beaten until stiff but not dry </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Bake the pie crust at 425º F for 10 mins </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Soak the elderflowers in the cream for about 10 minutes </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Add sugar and stir until dissolved</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Push the cheeses through a strainer with the back of a spoon </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Combine cheeses with elderflower-cream mixture. Add bread crumbs. Blend thoroughly </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Fold in stiff egg whites</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Pour mixture into pie crust</p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Bake at 375º F for about 50 minutes until firm but not dry. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Turn off the heat and allow to cool in oven with door open for about 15 minutes </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3263213
2014-11-02T17:07:22-07:00
2022-05-24T12:26:52-06:00
Song Profile: Benjamin Bowmaneer
<p><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">“Have you heard how the wars began, Benjamin Bowmaneer?” — so begins this song, a song that continues in a surreal vein until the last verse, which declares: “’Twas thus that the wars began, Benjamin Bowmaneer”. In between is a story that could be a children’s nursery rhyme or an arcane (though still pointed) political satire. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Brian brought it to the band having found it in the <em>Penguin Book of English Folksongs</em> — the old, and now rare, edition edited by Ralph Vaughan Williams and A.E. Lloyd. The notes in that text give little information and some small amount of conjecture as to the origins and meaning of the song. They also point out that “we have not found a set of this song complete with tune elsewhere”. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The phrase “Castors away!” that appears repeatedly in the song may be a reference to cheering by throwing one’s hat in the air — a ‘castor’ is a type of beaver felt hat. Or it might be a variation of “cast us away” implying a nautical connection. The main character in the song is not actually the Benjamin Bowmaneer of the title, but an unnamed tailor. Tailors seem to have been the butt of many a joke in the day — note Francis Feeble in Shakespeare’s <em>Henry IV, Part II</em> — and appear as weak, ineffectual characters in many songs e.g. The Bold Trooper on our first CD, <em>Some Foreign Land</em>. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">To us it seemed like it was a kind of pointed satire with a strong anti-war tone, and when we started playing it, the time was ripe for such a sentiment. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It wasn’t an easy song to to get to work musically. The repetition of lines and the fact that it didn’t have a story as such made it tend to plod and bog down. The cure came through a flash of brilliance from Mike, our bass player, who started riffing on a bass line in Stravinsky’s Histoire d’un Soldat, playing a three-against-two rhythm. Suddenly the whole piece held together and gained forward momentum. Brian then had the idea of adding <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N_Q0SBh1aE">Lull Me Beyond Thee</a>, a lovely old English dance tune, which was the perfect ending to the song. </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It’s on our recording, <em>‘Trad.’</em> and you can listen <a contents="here" data-link-label="Listen" data-link-type="page" href="/listen">here</a>. </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3211828
2014-09-30T21:37:40-06:00
2022-05-26T10:36:37-06:00
Curly Wee and The Pooka
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><strong><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/d656965ea9ec6e74107cd86743bbc7ad194e33fb/medium/51143nfj7cl-sl500-aa300.jpg?1412111759" class="size_m justify_left border_none" alt="" /><span class="font_regular">‘The Pooka and the Fiddler’ </span></strong><span class="font_regular">is a story told in verse and incorporating traditional Irish music. We recorded it almost ten years ago; here’s how it came about. I was on the ‘phone looking for gigs to add to some dates that we were to play in California. I ended up speaking with Curtis Pendleton from the San Luis Obispo Mozart Festival, whom I’d met at a Western Arts Alliance conference. She had explained that they had a “generous definition of chamber music” at their festival, so I called and I was glad I did. We agreed that Colcannon would do a regular concert, give a talk on some aspect of Irish music and … do a family show. Well, that’s where Aughrim was nearly lost, as they say in Ireland. We’d never had a ‘family show’ per se, even though most of material is family-friendly enough; but nothing designed to appeal to a family audience particularly. But in short order, I agreed to all the conditions, then got off the ‘phone and wondered what to do. For some time the band had been mulling the thought of producing a story/orchestra/Colcannon piece. Well, it was short notice for an orchestration but I had been toying with the idea of a story concerning a pooka. The pooka is a type of supernatural Irish creature that is found in animal form — usually goat; sometimes eagle, dog or other rarer forms. Traditionally, it’s a rather forbidding, even violent creature and prone to being misleading — rather like Trickster in Native American stories. (Not all pookas are that way, though. A well-known pooka in County Westmeath was a donkey that went into people’s houses at night and did housework.) Puck, in Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream is a pooka type, and in Ireland a male goat is known as a puck. The medieval characterization of the Devil, with horns and cloven hooves, is based on the old pagan pooka image. </span></span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">So, I thought why not write a pooka story and use music that we already played to fill in the story. I decided that the story should be in verse to make it ‘special’ and then I thought that if the story itself were about music — and the different kinds of Irish music — we’d have something to work with. And so, </span><em style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">The Pooka and the Fiddler</em><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;"> was born. </span></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Writing the verse was actually pretty easy for me. From my very earliest days I’ve had a love of verse and poetry. I owe this fondness to my father, who was a man possessed of a <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/5e2e31e2c331cd5cc08658855ce31c3419abb8e9/medium/arena-theatre-company-cautionary-tales-for-children-jonathon-oxlade.jpg?1412133790" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" style="margin: 5px;" />seemingly infinite store of doggerel, quotations, excerpts from speeches, stanzas of verse, snatches of songs and well-wrought aphorisms. He was likely on any and all occasions to have the <em>mot juste </em>or the wry quotation. From an early age he encouraged me to memorize verse and, when visitors came, would have me recite short poems from Hilaire Belloc’s <em>A Bad Child’s Book of Beasts</em>. One particular piece, <em>The Whale</em>, was my party piece. Another Belloc volume, <em>Cautionary Tales for Children</em> was also a favourite and contained such classics as <a contents="Matilda Who Told Lies And Was Burned To Death" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHzPag_SYx8"><em>Matilda Who Told Lies And Was Burned To Death</em></a>.</span></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/969bf7b613ce785eb30414c9babdd75b2ac68283/medium/758-001.jpg?1412134035" class="size_m justify_left border_none" alt="" style="margin: 5px;" />And I, like many children of my generation, was a great fan of the comic strip, <strong>Curly Wee and Gussie Goose</strong>. Indeed, our daily newspaper for many years was the Irish Independent mainly because it ran the daily adventures of that dignified pig and his loyal friend. I have no doubt that my attempts in <em>The Pooka and the Fiddler</em> as well as in <em>Happy as Larry</em> and <em>O’Toole and the Goose</em>, owe a great debt to Belloc and to Maud Budden, who wrote the Curly Wee verse. Roland Clibborn’s illustrations were also hugely charming. I’ve searched for many years to find a Curly Wee anthology but they’re very rare — even though the strip was syndicated in newspapers all over the world — and expensive. </span></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">We often perform <em>The Pooka</em> live, and are actually going to get a chance to perform it again next summer at the festival where it all got started (now renamed the Mozaic Festival). After last year's performance at the Durango Celtic Festival our friend Kevin Dawson, of the band Giant's Dance, surprised us with a <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/28754dcf175b21a3128af34ce3fa641df4c2e712/medium/pooka-phone-wallpaper.jpg?1412134618" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" style="margin: 5px;" />great illustration of his imagining of one of the scenes in the story. That's it there on the right.</span></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">We recorded the <em>Pooka and the Fiddler</em> along with a second story, <em>Happy as Larry.</em> We would love for you to buy the album, of course, but as as special treat for you all this month we're providing a link to a <a contents="free listen" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://colcannon.com/the-pooka-and-the-fiddler--2">free listen</a>. Enjoy!</span></span></p>
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<div> </div>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3167012
2014-09-01T20:00:53-06:00
2022-02-17T08:49:09-07:00
Book Review: Amongst Women by John McGahern
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><strong><span class="font_large">Amongst Women </span></strong></span><br><em><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/17a347f9111e366f0d6a5e4358067ddb2da32f8f/small/amongst-women.jpeg?1409623366" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />John McGahern </span></em></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This is the story of Moran, a widowed, ex-IRA officer, his new wife, his three daughters and two sons. It’s also the story of a time in recent Irish history that is increasingly seen as distant and strange. Moran is a man bitter and angry that the country for whose freedom he fought is now run by those that he regards as crooks and charlatans. A damaged and disappointed man, he takes out his sporadic anger on those around him. In the case of his sons, this is often a matter of physical violence. The elder son, Luke, is totally estranged from that family and lives in London. The new wife, Rose, keeps the peace as best she can as Moran’s resentments result in the thwarting of his daughters’ ambitions and the alienation of his second son, Michael. All the while Moran pontificates about the centrality of family life and the loyalty that he expects from those around him. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The story unfolds slowly and in a very measured way and as it progresses the simple view of Moran as tyrant goes through change and nuance. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">In the author’s memoir, <em>All Will Be Well</em>, he speaks at the very opening of the book about the labyrinthine lanes criss-crossing the town-lands in his place of rearing. One of the oddities of these boreens is the peculiar way that a distant place seen from one vantage may appear vastly different further down the road. And so it is with the picture he paints of Moran. A man capable of charm and warmth when it suits him, he’s also a man who carries a great sadness around with him. And much like the experience of traveling those country lanes, he finds himself sometimes closer and sometimes farther from self-understanding. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">It’s not a book with an involved plot — much of what happens is pretty predictable. And it’s not a book whose characters go through any great changes. Rather it’s a picture of certain forces and histories playing themselves out in a way that many of us — particularly those of us who have lived in Ireland in the ‘50s and ‘60s — will understand all the more clearly because of its telling.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This is something that I’ve noticed in Irish writers, this raking over the past. Roddy Doyle in the Henry trilogy deals with the Easter uprising of 1916 and continues (albeit not always in Ireland) through the 1950s. JG Farrell’s Troubles (reviewed in an earlier blog/newsletter) is set in 1921. William Trevor, Seamus Deane and many others have set works in earlier, pre-Celtic Tiger days. It’s understandable, of course. For a long time Ireland was an inward-looking country, repressed and sin-obsessed, with the Church ruling over all aspects of Irish life. This has left deep scars, I think, on the Irish psyche. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">It’s evident, too, from this story that the character of Moran is based on McGahern’s own father — a man he describes as having “no sense of humour” — an authoritarian bully. The similarities are evident from reading his memoir, <em>All Will Be Well</em>. One small detail is that his Moran, like McGahern’s father, wears a brown suit for all formal occasions.</span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">John McGahern’s sudden and untimely death in 2008 at the age of 71 was a shock. His illness was not common knowledge and his death was so sudden that he died on the day that he went into hospital. I remember in 2001 seeing a review and an excerpt in the Irish Times of his book, <em>That They May Face the Rising Sun</em> (published in the US as <em>Beside the Lake</em>). I had only been slightly aware of his work. I’d read some short stories and his book, <em>The Pornographer</em>, back in the ‘80s and had not been particularly moved. I had somehow missed <em>Amongst Women</em> all together despite its having been shortlisted for the Booker prize. The Irish Times review of <em>That They May Face the Rising Sun</em> was glowing and the excerpt I read really impressed me. The book, unfortunately, was not readily available here in the US so it was a couple of years before I managed to get my hands on a copy. Not long afterwards I became aware of <em>Amongst Women</em>. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">It’s a slightly strange book. The style is knowing, the voice that of the omniscient narrator. The opening sentence draws you right in: “As he weakened, Moran began to be afraid of his daughters.” The style is simple, honed — even spare. "My only concern," McGahern once said, "is that I get the sentence right and describe my world clearly and deeply."</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">There’s an almost dispassionate tone that, despite the all-knowing teller, allows to arrive at one’s own conclusions — or lack of conclusions. </span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3167009
2014-09-01T19:51:52-06:00
2022-02-17T08:49:45-07:00
Song Profile: Bríd Bhéasach
<p><strong><span class="font_large"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Song Profile: Bríd Bhéasach </span></span></strong></p>
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 13px;">I loved this song the first time I sang it. I found it in <em>Ceolta Gael 2</em>, a collection of songs in Irish Gaelic and the melody struck me first with its wonderful, wistful loneliness. The words were strange and sad and infused with a wild imagery. There was no other information given about the song and searches at the time found no recordings or other information. The language gave no clue to what region the song might be from, though I did hear from an Irish friend that the word ‘béasach’ was sometimes used in Donegal to mean ‘gentle’ or ‘kind’. The dictionary definition is ‘well-mannered’. There is also a famous poem called <em>Brídín Bhéasaí</em> (Bridget Vesey) by Antaine Raiftearaí (1779-1835) which led me on a brief wild goose chase, and assuming the song is not based on a real-life character, the title may have been inspired by the Raiftearaí poem. But they’re two very different songs. The Raiftearaí poem is a love song praising Bridget Vesey; Bríd Bhéasach speaks the words of her song herself and it’s the song of a ‘bean siúil’ — a traveling woman — homeless and alone. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">We recorded the song on <em>The Life of Riley’s Brother</em> in 1995 and it was only last year that I was able to finally find more information on it. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I found a recording by Áine Ní Ghallchobhair († 1994) of Gweedore, Co. Donegal who appears to have learned it from a neighbor, Síle Mhicí, Bean Uí Ghallchobhair, who had a great store of unusual songs. Apart from the Áine Ní Ghallchobhair version, I know of no other recording. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The instrumentation on the Colcannon recording is a little dark as befits the song. Brian plays the mandocello, which has a darker tone than the guitar. Even though the song is in a major key, to me it has a brooding, melancholy feeling. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I have done a translation which, as is often the case, doesn’t do justice to the poetry of the original Irish but it gives a pretty clear telling of the gist of the song.</span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; color: rgb(50, 51, 51);"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="font_regular"><strong>Gentle Bridget</strong></span><br><br>It’s my regret and my great grief that the water is not wine, that the root of the reeds is not flour bread, that the tips of the watercress are not bright candIes, where my love comes and goes.<br><br>A shame on marriage, a woe to all who undergo it; it’s bright at the beginning and then turns dark. It's many the fine young girl that it has worn down, her head on her knees and her eyes continually weeping.<br><br>Poor Bridget said, when she was good and old, 'I will be a hundred and one at the beginning of the month, wandering the roads aIl ‘round the country, oh l am worthless* and will always be so’. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; color: rgb(50, 51, 51);"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">*also means single, unmarried </span><br> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3117212
2014-07-31T15:49:41-06:00
2022-02-13T13:07:08-07:00
Song profile: Dublin in the Rare Ould Times
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">“Dear, dirty Dublin” — a phrase attributed to Lady Sydney Morgan (1780-1859) — sums up succinctly the way Dublin is held in the hearts of many. In James Joyce’s short story, <i>A Little Cloud</i>, returning journalist Ignatius Gallaher quotes that very phrase, all the while extolling the more exciting virtues of London and Paris and encouraging his unadventurous friend Little Chandler to seek out a richer life. Little Chandler’s attachment to Dublin is despite the dreariness all around him and the everyday Dubliner often seems attached to his city with a passion unsurpassed. </span></p>
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">This can be seen (and heard) in the song, </span><i style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">Dublin in the Rare Ould Times</i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">. Written by Pete St. John in the early ‘70s, it went on to be recorded by a host of performers — including your own Colcannon — and has become the definitive sentimental song about Dublin. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">We recorded it on the album <i>The Life of Riley’s Brother</i> and a brief journal that I kept at the time tells me that we recorded it on Thursday, August 10, 1995, starting at about 11:30 a.m. We got it on the second take, which is good. The vocals needed a little fixing on “hallowed halls and houses” and there were a couple of fixes for flute and fiddle. A ‘fix’ is when something wasn’t as good as it might have been and you go back and re-record those not-so-good parts. For instance with “hallowed halls and houses”, mentioned above, the ‘h’ sound on ‘halls’ was weak but the rest of the recording was just fine. It had a nice feeling, people were playing well. It would be shame to throw the whole thing away for just a few less-than-perfect moments. So I went back to my microphone and sang along with a playback of what we had just recorded. At the point of ‘halls’ the engineer very quickly pushed the ‘record’ button for my microphone and ‘punches in’ my repair. Then quickly ‘punches out’ again. It takes a good deal of skill to get it just right but it’s one of the many reasons for using a commercial recording studio with experienced engineers. This was back in the days of recording to tape. (I think <i>Riley’s Brother </i>may have been our last analog tape recording, I’m not sure though…) These days the process, and the technology, is quite different.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The main ‘fix’ on this song was very different type, and a bit problematic. While I don’t like taking liberties with people’s songs, there was a road block in the original lyrics of this song: something that could stop you in you emotional tracks, as it were. The original song had the line “I lost her to a student lad, with skin as black as coal. When he took her off to Birmingham, she took away my soul.” To an American audience ‘Birmingham’ would almost inevitably mean Birmingham, Alabama rather than Birmingham, England. The pointing out that the student had “skin as black as coal” might be heard more pointedly than “student lad” (which has an almost affectionate tone to it) and it might be more quickly assumed to be a racist slur rather than an observation that the more common appearance of people of color was one of the more recent changes in Dublin. But, then again, the singer is bemoaning those changes so we’re right back into a possible racist resonance. I firmly believe the intent of the song was patently not racist, but the amount of thinking and sorting involved on the part of the first-time listener would be more than enough to seriously stall any forward momentum and to scatter the emotional coherence of the song. So I changed the lines to “I lost her to a student lad, whilst I was on the dole. When he took her off to England, she took away my soul.” And, oddly, I’ve heard it sung that way by others. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The song remains a favorite with audiences though we play it less frequently than we used to. I recall walking across the grounds of an Irish festival in Pasadena and hearing, on that fairly short walk, three different renditions of the song — that was its heyday. Still, it’s a great song. It might be time to work it up again. </span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3117164
2014-07-31T15:43:37-06:00
2022-02-13T12:51:17-07:00
Book Review: Dubliners by James Joyce
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/41f36b88765ab3ec2e369777f52ffd53821691b4/small/dubliners.jpg?1406842898" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" /><span class="font_large"><strong>Dubliners </strong></span><br><em>James Joyce </em><br><br>James Joyce’s <i>Dubliners</i> is 100 years old this year. It’s a book that is often cited as the perfect short-story collection or as an easy entrée to Joyce’s more difficult works,<i> A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man</i> or, more particularly, <i>Ulysses</i>. (<i>Finnegans Wake</i> is sui generis and really needs to be considered on its own merits.) </span></p>
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">I hadn’t read </span><i style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">Dubliners</i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"> in many years — I may have been still a teenager the last time I delved into anything from the collection other than </span><i style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">The Dead</i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">. I was pleased at how well I remembered the individual stories and delighted at how well they’ve held up — indeed, at how more powerful and nuanced they now seem to me. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The first couple, <i>The Sisters</i> and <i>An Encounter</i> are a bit open-ended and mysterious but there’s no denying the power of the language and the evocation of childhood confusion. In fact, the mystery of the pieces is what the stories are about — the unspoken things, the unclear things. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>Araby</i>, too, has that childhood confusion — mixed with a naive eroticism — is heart-breaking in its poignancy.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">With <i>Eveline</i> we move into a more adult phase of life experience and, to my mind, the heart of what the collection is about. Joyce spoke of holding up a moral mirror to the people of Dublin and perceived a ‘paralysis’ at the core of life in that city. Eveline cannot make up her mind to leave her home, unhappy as it is, and elope with her sailor lover. Indeed, she may have good reason to vacillate but she also risks letting her best chance of happiness elude her grasp. It’s particularly of note that the story was written around the time that Joyce had entered into his relationship with Nora Barnacle and was planning his own self-exile in continental Europe. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I was a bit perplexed by <i>After the Race</i> and find it to be the least satisfying of the stories in the collection but the stories that follow, <i>Two Gallants</i>, <i>The Boarding House</i>, A<i> Little Cloud</i> and <i>Counterparts</i> are moving depictions of small lives that remain small because of that dreadful rigidity and conservatism of Irish social life — the petty frustrations that turn into petty cruelties and exploitations. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>Clay</i> is the story of Maria, a skivvy in a Magdalene laundry whose small life is hedged ‘round with sadness. <i>A Painful Case</i> is reminded me of Ishiguro’s <i>Remains of the Day</i> and the relationship between Stevens and Miss Keaton. Joyce is at his most pointed in this story. He says of Mr Duffy, one of the two main characters; “He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glances.” There is something comical about Mr Duffy — indeed, in all of these stories, a keen sense of the comical and absurd will be rewarded with many chuckles, even guffaws — but his own self-importance and lack of self-knowledge rob him of his chance of some kind of fulfillment. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>Ivy Day in the Committee Room</i> offers a glimpse into small-minded politics and small ambitions, couched in memories of great political possibilities that ended with the death of Charles Stewart Parnell, which is commemorated on October 6 — Ivy Day. <i>A Mother</i> recounts the often hilarious machinations of a stage-mother and the world of amateur dramatics. <i>Grace</i>, which was to be the final story in the collection is a humorous and pointed story of an attempt to reform a drunk by conning him into attending a religious retreat. As with other stories, it features several characters that also appear in Ulysses. The tally of attendees at the retreat doesn’t bode well for the likelihood of success. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Then we come to <i>The Dead</i>, a story that I read at least once a year and one that never fails to move me. (I should say here that when John Huston made a film of this story I was skeptical that it could be done with any success. It was a triumph, a wonderful movie. )</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">A few thoughts in closing: it’s easy to read these stories as serious literature, but be aware that there’s a lot of humor in here, even if the human sadness always seeps through. Joyce has great sympathy for his characters, though his gaze was all-seeing and, sometimes, harsh.</span></p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3045073
2014-06-27T16:35:32-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:34-07:00
Song Profile: The Streets of Forbes
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/47677e092edfdc3cb4880e3dfb3b9e9b36bd68bd/medium/ben-hall-grave.jpg?1403908504" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" /><strong><span class="font_large">The Streets of Forbes</span></strong></span><br><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;">This Australian folk song appears on our CD, </span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;">The Life of Riley’s Brother,</i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> and was recorded on August 10, 1995. We started work on it just after 8 p.m. that evening, after a long day in the studio during which time we got good working tracks of </span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;">Yeshe in the Garden</i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> and </span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;">Step it Out Mary</i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;">. We spent about three hours that night working on </span><i style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;">Streets</i><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> and managed, in that time, to get a good basic track. We wanted to get a distinctively Australian ambiance for this song about a 19th century Australian bushranger (outlaw), so we had our friend Paul Taylor in to record didgeridoo and bull-roarer. Our producer, Tim O’Brien, added a bouzouki track. It was probably the hardest and most productive working day of the whole recording session. </span>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The idea of performing — and then recording — <i>The Streets of Forbes</i> had started out with a cassette tape of the 1968 Martin Carthy/Dave Swarbrick recording, <i>But Two Came By</i>. The album was long out of print so this tape, acquired from Doug Berch I think, was precious. I’d made a copy for Mike and one day at rehearsal he started playing the opening guitar lick. It was decided pretty much there and then to work it up and see what happened. Very soon we started finding an eerie quality in the song, which is also known as <i>The Death of Ben Hall</i> and was written (it is said) by his brother-in-law, John McGuire. I think it was the detail of tying the body to his horse and parading it through the streets of the town that was the pivotal image in that eerie feeling that we got. But I think, too, that the idea that Ben Hall had decided to “put away bushranging” and then been killed before he managed to make a new life lends the song a tragic quality.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">In any case, we worked hard that night to get a good basic track. The next day, Friday the 11th, we started in the studio at noon and added the clicky-sticks (or clapsticks, an aboriginal percussion instrument) and the bowed cymbal (not Australian, but it sounds cool and eerie…) As I recall, Mike played the clicky sticks and maybe even the bowed cymbal. Then we decided to re-record the vocal which was much better this time around— being rested was a help. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">We did have to fight to keep this track. Usually the producer gets final thumbs up or down and I recall that Tim O’Brien wasn’t particularly convinced that the track worked. Later on, Charles Sawtelle, who mixed the recording, expressed his doubts, too — as I recall, the name Spike Jones came up briefly. But I think we won Charles over and we did keep the track. It remains something of an oddity in our oeuvre, I suppose, but we still take it out and dust it off and perform it once in a while. And now Mike gets to play the bass harmonica on it — which sounds much like a didgeridoo. </span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/3045064
2014-06-27T16:30:19-06:00
2022-02-17T08:51:50-07:00
Irish Murder Mysteries
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/7d137b8e3e66386edc286ba8dbb4dad87468963f/small/cover-death-joyce-scholar.jpg?1403907979" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />I love a good mystery. In fact, the first ‘real’ books I read were my mother’s Agatha Christie mysteries and over the years I continued the habit and enjoyed exploring this very broad, if uneven genre. One of my favorite bookstores was and is The Rue Morgue in Boulder, Colorado and back in 1989 or thereabouts, when I was reading a lot of Joyce and immersing myself in Ulysses, I was chatting one day with one of the then proprietors, Tom or Enid Schantz, about things bookish and especially Joycean. In the course of the conversation, <i>Death of a Joyce Scholar</i> by Bartholomew was recommended. It was set in Dublin and featured the detective, Peter McGarr. It was a most enjoyable read and I went on to read many more mysteries by the same author. For the most part there really had been no murder mysteries set in Ireland up to that time and it was fascinating for me to see an outsider’s take (McGill was the <i>nom de plume</i> of Mark C. McGarrity, a writer from New Jersey) on the just-pre-Celtic Tiger world of Dublin and Ireland. </span></p>
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">Since then there has been a boom in Irish crime fiction with comparisons being made to the Scandinavian crime fiction phenomenon. Today’s genre is a bit darker than Bartholomew Gill — crime noir is an apt description — but it’s also a very rich field with some great reads. I’m not hugely well-read in the genre but I give you my take on some of the better-known writers. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">First writer in the genre was probably John Connolly. His Charlie Parker series is set in the US, though, so not really Irish, and has an odd supernatural and violent tinge to it. The writing is taut and absorbing but I found one book to be enough for me. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Stuart Neville’s <i>The Ghosts of Belfast</i> is a real-life horror story. Set in Belfast after the Troubles, it’s a very violent but thoroughly plausible book. Gerry Fegan is a former assassin haunted by the ghosts of those that he has killed. He seeks to make reparation and find some redemption but, somehow, nothing seems to change in any essential way. I’ve not read others of his books but I recommend this one.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Ken Bruen is a star of this new genre. I’ve read one of his books, <i>The Killing of the Tinkers</i>, and I really didn’t care for it. I found the main protagonist, Jack Taylor, profoundly unlikeable and there seemed to be an irritating attempt to make alcoholism appear interesting in much the same way in which alcoholics like to think that they, themselves, are interesting. (The fact is that most of us are bores.) The book also felt cod-erudite as if the author was trying to impress us with his wide and deep learning. I don’t impress that easily. But, as I said, his books are very popular. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Another very popular writer is Tana French. Her <i>In the Woods</i> was an excellent read even if I found myself perplexed by some loose ends. There was a sub-plot that featured prominently but that never got resolved and there was some strange behavior from one of the main characters that ended up explained as nothing other than just strange behavior. Still the main character was fascinating and the story engaging — I’ll read more. Jean has read all of Tana French’s books and really likes them. Apparently they all take a character who appeared in a previous novel in a minor role and turn them into the new book’s protagonist. It makes for an interesting change of point of view. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>The Wrong Kind of Blood</i> by Declan Hughes is the first in a series featuring Ed Loy, an Irishman returned to Ireland after many years in the US. His old home of Dublin is hard to recognize and he gets himself involved in a quagmire of plots. I found it a promising debut mostly, I think, because I liked the main character — but it was too full of goings-on. Just so much happening that it was confusing. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">My favorite writer of this genre, though, is Gene Kerrigan. I’ve read two of his books, <i>The Midnight Choir</i> and <i>Dark Times in the City</i>. Both were quiet, well-plotted and assured works. The characters and well fleshed out and real and the story lines come together is a very satisfying way. Both books feature morally complex situations and conflicted characters. In the first book, <i>The Midnight Choir</i>, there’s an attempt to do the ‘right’ thing that goes badly wrong. In the latter book, a recently released ex-con makes a spontaneous decision that results in the reader rooting (reluctantly) for the lesser of two evils. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">There are other notable writers in the genre. John Banville writing as Benjamin Black has a series set mostly in 1950s Dublin and featuring the morose pathologist, Quirke (no first name given). I read the first book in the series, <i>Christine Falls</i>, and found the characters and their relationships much more interesting than the plot. In many ways, that’s a plus for me. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Adrian McKinty has a number of books to his name and a strong reputation. I’m not familiar with his work but I’ve had it recommended to me a number of times. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">There are other writers that I have had recommended to me and that I expect to try — Brian McGilloway and his Inspector Devlin series is next on the list. </span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2985754
2014-06-01T13:55:16-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:34-07:00
CD Review: Leonard Barry ~ New Road
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><b><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/e1a190d197bf90ea22aec63044aa65baa944a0f5/small/leonardbarrynewroad.jpg?1401652148" class="size_s justify_left border_" />New Road </span></b></span><br><i style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">Leonard Barry</i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"> </span>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">lb2 </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This is Leonard Barry’s second solo recording and it’s very good. I say that upfront because the sophomore recording is the most nerve-wracking for any recording artist. It’s especially so for a soloist and may be even more of a challenge for a performer on a less common instrument — in this case, uileann pipes.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The soloist is a hero, a champion of his instrument and a champion for the tunes he plays. I have several different recordings of the Bach partitas, for instance, and the different soloists bring their different understandings of the pieces to me thereby enriching my understanding. A soloist in Irish traditional music will have to show their interpretations of well-known pieces, introduce new pieces that the audience might not have heard before — all the while holding attention with a sound palette (no matter how lovely) that might get tedious over the course of a listening. No such problem here. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This is an accomplished and assured work with plenty of breadth, richness and depth</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The slow airs (<i>Iníon an Fhaoit a’ Ghleann</i> and <i>O’Rahilly’s Grave</i>) hold together with a musical and emotional coherence than is rarer than one might hope and the dance sets pop with perfect pacing and highlight some of the great work by the people who accompany Barry on this recording. (Tony O’Connell and Tony Byrne on <i>Mount Fabus Hunt</i> and Rick Epping, Cathie Jordan and Seamie O’Dowd on <i>Planxty Davis</i>) There’s also some fine flute playing by Conor Byrne on a set of jigs and an exhilarating bouzouki by Cyril O’Donoghue on a fling and set of reels. Cathie Jordan plays some lovely subtle bodhrán, John Carty, on banjo, brings a swaggering beat to a set of marches and Andy Morrow on fiddle is almost telepathic in the way he locks in on a set of slides. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Through all of this, Barry’s piping shines bright and the totally apt and finely-judged accompaniment is just exactly enough to keep the ears perked. There are some very well-known tunes here — oddly enough, <i>The New Road</i> is not one of them. But there are a few that were unknown to me — <i>The Cauliflower</i>, for instance, or the wonderfully named <i>Shaving The Baby With A Spoon</i>. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">It all makes for a very satisfying listen and some of the most masterful uileann piping you’re likely to hear anywhere. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Get your copy at <a href="http://www.leonardbarry.ie/shop.html"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">http://www.leonardbarry.ie/shop.html</span></a></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1. JIGS: Apples in Winter/Peataí Leary's/Tom Billy's (4:15) </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">2. REELS: The Limerick Lasses/Johnny McGoohans/The Laurel Tree (feat. Andy Morrow) (4:16)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">3. HOP JIGS: Tommy O'Dea's/The Silver Slipper/Shaving the Baby With a Spoon (feat. Cathy Jordan, Seamie O'Dowd & Rick Epping) (2:38)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">4. MARCH/REELS: Bonaparte Crossing the Rhine/Dogs Amongst the Bushes/Gabe O'Sullivan's (feat. John Carty) (4:23)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">5. SLOW AIR: Iníon an Fhaoit' ón nGleann (3:19)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">6. HORNPIPES: Junior Crehan's Poll Ha'penny / Moran's Fancy (4:29)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">7. JIGS: The Foxhunter's Jig/The Besom in Bloom (feat. Conor Byrne) (3:40)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">8. SET DANCE: Mount Fabus Hunt (feat. Tony O'Connell & Tony Byrne) (3:00)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">9. REELS: Gerry Commane's/The Pride of Cloonsha/The Maid in the Meadow (3:26)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1. JIGS: The Cauliflower/Seanduine Dóite/A Tailor I Am (3:55)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">11. SLIDES: </span>The Peeler and the Goat/ Dan Jeremiah's/Paddy Canny's (feat. Andy Morrow & Rick Epping) (4:3)</p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">12. FLING/REELS: Kitty Got a Clinking/Sarah's Reel/The Bog Carrot (feat. Cyril O'Donoghue) (3:27)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">13. SET DANCE: Planxty Davis (feat. Rick Epping, Cathy Jordan & Seamie O'Dowd) (4:41)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">14. SLOW AIR: O'Rahilly's Grave (4:13)</span></p>
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<div> </div>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2985720
2014-06-01T13:18:03-06:00
2022-05-24T12:28:36-06:00
Book Review: Troubles by JG Farrell
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="font_large"><span class="font_small"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/a022dca0d240d4a087b3563f1d10defe538f9f11/small/troubles.jpg?1401650215" class="size_s justify_left border_" /></span>Troubles </span></span><br><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0px;"><em><span class="font_regular">JG Farrell </span></em><br>New York Review Books (Classics) <br>July 2010</span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Never judge a book by its cover and be wary of judging it by its reviews — even this one. Given the title, Troubles, and given some reviews that I’d read, I was all prepared for a misery-fest and it took me a little while to realize that this is, in fact, a funny book. Yes, there’s a air of sadness running through it and there’s no happy ending; the tone is wry and the the humor is dry and biting, but it’s funny nonetheless. </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Set in the Troubles — the war of independence in Ireland 1919-1921 — the story limns the forces at work during the social and political upheaval of the times. The fact that it was published in 1970 was almost bizarrely timely since events that would again be known as ‘The Troubles’ were erupting in Northern Ireland. </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Major Brendan Archer, recently demobbed from the British army after the First World War travels to Ireland to visit Angela, who over the course of a correspondence by letter has somehow become his fiancée. Not necessarily alarmed at such a prospect, though not particularly enthused either, it’s his hope to clear things up and do whatever needs to be done. When he arrives at The Majestic Hotel by the coast in Co. Wexford which is owned by Angela’s father, Edward Spencer, he finds the hotel rapidly falling into ruin and infested with cats. The human inhabitants are a group of superannuated old ladies, totally out of touch with the world outside. Edward Spencer, too, is almost completely out of touch as well. Imagining himself to be a kindly and generous landlord, he has no idea of the animus his mere presence arouses in the local populace nor does he seem to have a true grasp of the political forces shifting around him. As far as he’s concerned the ‘Shinners’ i.e. members or followers of Sinn Fein, are merely hooligans who have no appreciation of their betters and those who took part in the 1916 rebellion in Dublin are traitors who stabbed England in the back when it was distracted with fighting WWI. </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The book has a tone somewhere in between Gormanghast and P.G Wodehouse and always one seems to be waiting for someone to do something or for something to happen — an odd paralysis pervades, not unlike that in Joyce’s Dubliners</span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And yet, as John Banville notes in his introduction, this book is also a lament for the old Anglo-Irish Ascendency, whose energy and talent could have added so much to an Independent Ireland. The book is sympathetic to the emotions on both sides of the issue and quite tender in its dealings with the main characters. But as the book progresses a feeling of indolent tragedy rolls in like sick fog. There are love affairs that could have happened but didn’t, relationships that did happen but probably shouldn’t have and a great feeling of something that could have been magnificent, even majestic, falling into ruin. The book ends with these words: “But he was still troubled by thoughts of Sarah. His love for her perched inside of him, motionless, like a sick bird. For many weeks he continued to think about her painfully. And then one day, without warning, the bird left its perch inside him and flew away into the outer darkness and he was at peace. Yet many years later he would sometimes think of her. And once or twice he thought he glimpsed her in the street.”</span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The book was published in 1970, the year that rules of entry for the Booker Prize changed, thus making this book and others ineligible for consideration. To correct this the Booker committee in 2010 issued an award for the Lost Booker. This is the book that won. A little late for JG Farrell who drowned in1979 at the age of 44. </span></span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2910198
2014-04-30T11:41:54-06:00
2022-02-13T13:08:10-07:00
Book Review: Borstal Boy by Brendan Behan
<p><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/afedfb34b05857f8022b1886d2e6836a0fcff3bd/small/borstalboy.jpeg?1398879583" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />Borstal Boy </span><br><em>Brendan Behan </em><br>Nonpareil Books, 1982 365 pp.<br>© 1958 <br><br><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Brendan Behan is one of those figures of whom it is practically impossible to separate the myth from the man. He was born in 1923 into an educated working class family in Dublin, a family with a long and deep Nationalist history. His mother, Kathleen, was a personal friend of Irish revolutionary leader, Michael Collins and his uncle, Peadar Kearney, fought in the 1916 uprising and was also the author of the Irish national anthem. This background drove him in two directions — Irish Republican rebel and writer. His nationalist activities led to his jailing a couple of times, but by his mid-twenties he had abandoned active support of the IRA and had embarked upon his career as a writer. These times in jail are the basis of the best of his work — <em>The Quare Fellow</em>, <em>The Hostage</em> (both plays) and Borstal Boy (a memoir). In his role as a writer, however, he became famous (as he put it himself) as “a drinker with a writing problem” and it is this image, so beloved of would-be artistic rebels, that has muddied his reputation. He was famous for drunken public appearances and a profane and scurrilous tongue and his personal legend has come to obscure a body of work which, at its best, is powerful and moving. </span></span></p>
<p><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><em>Borstal Boy</em> was published in 1958 after his two big successes, <em>The Quare Fellow</em> and <em>The Hostage</em> and, though both of the latter are infused with a fierce humanity, <em>Borstal Boy</em> has a voice that is more personal and direct — despite exhibiting some writing habits, which writer Alan Simpson once described as being “somewhat repetitive, involuted and in need of some cutting.” If Behan’s plays were written, as poet Donagh McDonagh once accused, “for himself”, Borstal Boy is certainly an explanation of himself. And Borstal Boy was probably his last great work before the drink and resultant diabetes killed him. </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The events of <em>Borstal Boy</em> start with Brendan at the age of sixteen, on a self-appointed raid to blow up the docks at Liverpool. He’s arrested at his boarding house and after initial detention sent to borstal, a type of reformatory or prison for youth. It is in this confinement that his life expands and all glibly held notions of “the enemy" are questioned and altered. It should be noted that from the beginning of the story Brendan seems to have a generous sense of humor about life itself and a charitable view of the human condition. Here, among his fellow inmates and in the keeping of the “screws”, he learns more and more about the common humanity of those around him, forms friendships and occasional feuds and, despite some occasional hardships, has a generally good time. This is not the story of hardened IRA soldier coming to love his enemy but a more nuanced view of the individual within the system. Indeed, as a practicing Catholic (later self-described as a “daylight atheist”), his main rancor is reserved for priests that refuse him the sacraments because, as a member of the IRA, he’s considered to be excommunicated. But his sympathy for those around him, the common criminals, the low-lifes, and the screws trying to keep order, is what is most in evidence. He once famously said: ”I respect kindness in human beings first of all, and kindness to animals. I don't respect the law; I have a total irreverence for anything connected with society except that which makes the roads safer, the beer stronger, the food cheaper and the old men and old women warmer in the winter and happier in the summer.” That’s good enough for me. </span></span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2910130
2014-04-30T11:24:59-06:00
2022-02-17T08:54:06-07:00
CD Review: An Táin by Deep End of the Ford
<p><strong><span class="font_large"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/51684644ba57c6fa15af7e7ca0321d2e4ebd9962/small/an-tain-250x248.jpg?1398878622" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><br>An Táin</span></span></strong><br><span class="font_large"><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0px;">Deep End of the Ford</span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_large"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">LMM01 1002 </span></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This is my first music review for the Newsletter/Blog. I’ve avoided this for a long time. I feel awkward passing comment on the work of my peers and would rather believe that I long ago left the world of job reviews behind. But I think it’s only fair that when I find a new work that is truly exciting to me I share that, and help spread the word.</span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">A few years ago I was learning the sean nós song ‘Bean Dubh an Ghleanna’ and there was a section of it that was giving me trouble - the words and music were battling each other and I was getting baffled — most songs will start easing into their shape in time … Anyway, I thought to give a listen to a few versions to see what others had done with the song, so I had a listen to some iTunes selections and discovered a version by Lorcán MacMathúna. I don’t recall if I got the answer that I was looking for, but I do recall that I was quite stunned by his version of the song. The voice was strong, clear, and wrapped around the song perfectly, allowing it to come out in a way that I’d rarely heard. A Google search a few weeks later to find out more information on him and his work revealed a promotional video for the new large scale piece An Táin, performed by MacMathúna’s ensemble Deep End of the Ford, in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Armagh. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTDBXv1-C-8"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTDBXv1-C-8</span></a> </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The Táin (or, more precisely, An Táin Bó Cuailgne) is an ancient Irish epic poem dating from pre-Christian times that depicts a war that ensues when Maedhbh (pronounced Maeve), the queen of Connaught attempts to steal the Donn Cuailgne, a famous bull of Ulster. The armies of Ulster fall under a sickness that leaves the defense of the province to the hero Cú Chulainn — still just in his teens. The story, originally from the oral tradition, exists in three different recensions. This reading of the story is from the second recension in the Book of Leinster from the 12th Century. If you’d like to read a modern translation of the story you have the choice of a pair of excellent translations — one by Thomas Kinsella (1969 Oxford University Press) and one by Ciarán Carson (2007 Penguin Classics). I like both — the Carson is a bit more animated in its language and perhaps an easier read. But don’t assume that this is going to be a slog — both books and The Táin itself are magical works, full of humor and adventure. </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This recording is a magical work, too. The instrumentation is accordion, piano, bass clarinet, fiddle, uileann pipes, vpipes, low whistles and vocals. The sound is at once thoroughly modern and somehow ancient. I’m reminded of a lecture I once heard where a description was given of ‘dord’ — a type of singing/chanting/whispering that was practiced by ancient Irish warriors. I imagine this singing as being akin to that. And while the singing has the feel, at times, of being improvised, at others it feels as ordered and structured as an old syllabic poem with MacMathúna as a latter-day reacaire. But there’s nothing self-indulgent here — no artistic posturing and everything is in service to moving the story along. The whole thing is sung in Old Irish, by the way, but there are translations of the words here (<a href="http://lorcanmacmathuna.com/antain/translations/"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">http://lorcanmacmathuna.com/antain/translations/</span></a>) </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">There are some great melodies and truly exciting and moving passages. This is an extraordinary work.</span></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Movement 1 - The Pillow Talk</span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Movement 2 - The Prophesy of Fidelm</span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Movement 3 - The slighting of Cú Chulainn</span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Movement 4 - Cú Chulainn's Sleep </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Movement 5 - The Sorcerous Distortions </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Movement 6 - Dinnseancahas (Instrumental) </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Movement 7 - The Manipulation of Ferdia </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Movement 8 - Caoineadh Fherdia </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Movement 9 - Scread Ceann Sualtaim (The cries of Sualtaim's Head)</span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Movement 10 - The Rut and Carnage</span></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Lorcán Mac Mathúna - voice; Martin Tourish - accordion, piano; Seán Mac Erlaine - bass clarinet; Eoghan Neff - fiddle; Flaithrí Neff - uileann pipes, vpipes, low whistle</span></span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2830666
2014-03-30T17:53:45-06:00
2022-02-17T08:55:26-07:00
Book Review: The Ginger Man
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><strong><span class="font_large"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/0a204e4f951b76ada7c612dec368b3f81b13e8db/small/6thlaurel80.jpg?1396223557" class="size_s justify_left border_" />The Ginger Man </span></strong></span><br><em><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: 0px;">J.P. Donleavy </span></em></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">© 1955 </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Dell, NY 1980 pp. 313 </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This was one of the scandalous books of my youth. While not as legendary as <i>Lady Chatterley’s Lover,</i> there was, nevertheless, a certain cachet (if you were a schoolboy) to having access to a banned copy of it. Censorship was instituted in Ireland in the 1930s to preserve and promote a Catholic cultural identity for the country and anything deemed un-Catholic, indecent or obscene was banned. Film would be cut — hacked might be a better word — so that sometimes scenes would take sudden turns or end abruptly, and quite often parts of the film were reduced to incomprehensibility. Books were just banned. So, too, were many English periodicals and magazines, jazz records — anything that might undermine the morals of Catholic Ireland. The writers who were banned included most the major writers of the day who were writing in English. <i>The Register of Prohibited Publications</i> was often referred to by wags as <i>Everyman’s Guide to the Modern Classics</i>. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">By the time I got to The Ginger Man it was in the late ‘60s and the heavy hand of the censor was getting lighter. Since many of the major Irish writers of the day were banned in their own homeland, this was becoming an embarrassment to the Irish authorities. So, the rules relaxed a bit and many books that had been previously passed around surreptitiously were now openly available. But, truth to tell, when I picked up The Ginger Man I wasn’t impressed. I was under the impression that this was to be a Rabelaisian romp, full of drunken shenanigans and rife with descriptions of illicit sex. “A comic masterpiece” they said. The book seemed was dull, mean-spirited and miserable. After about twenty pages, I put it down again.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The years pass and along the way I acquired books (as one does) and in my library is a copy of the Ginger Man. It’s the green cover from Dell Publishing and dated 1980. It’s a second-hand paperback and bought, I’m sure, because I promised myself that I’d give it another try. And here I am doing a series of reviews of important or informative books relating to Ireland. A perfect opportunity to keep that promise … </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Well, I have to say that this is a hard book to like. I’m not a fan of ‘funny’ books i.e. books that are written explicitly to be funny. I find and enjoy all kinds of humor in literature but I prefer it incidental and witty rather than set up. This book I just couldn’t find amusing.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Sebastian Dangerfield is the protagonist. He’s an American (as is Dunleavy) living in Dublin and studying law at Trinity College. He’s married to an English woman (who he thought had money) and is the reluctant father of a very young daughter. He is totally amoral, dissolute, violent to women and a whiner. His world is a shambles of drink, carnal entanglements and chaos and he brings all of his many troubles on himself. He lies, steals, cheats and abuses all around him. And yet, in every chapter, after the latest sordid betrayal, there is a reflective stream of consciousness monologue that gives us a sort of partial glimpse inside of him. There is no attempt made at explanation or excuses; no wish to be redeemed in men’s eyes. But there seems to be the stirrings of self-knowledge or conscience, and, over time, there grows a kind of … pity, maybe for all the failings and the pain. It’s a bit like watching an addict — a narcissistic addict. It’s not pretty but it is interesting. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The writing is what saves the book. At times it’s nothing short of brilliant. There’s a kind of cubist approach where the point of view changes person — from third person to first person or vice versa — and bits and pieces of surrounding dialogue interject to give different simultaneous views of a scene. Likewise in the stream of consciousness passages, grammar is broken and rearranged to create a more kaleidoscopic mind picture. This is the best use of this technique that I’ve seen since I first encountered it in Ulysses and there are echoes of Joyce and of Leopold Bloom wandering the streets of Dublin.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So, a final opinion. There’s much important about this book. The writing moved the art of fiction ahead but I had a hard time getting beyond the repellent behavior of Sebastian Dangerfield. The misogyny was at best cringe-worthy and at worst, infuriating. The same self-inflicted disasters recurring over and over again, was tiresome. And, in the end, it seemed as if this man would never attain enough self-knowledge to ever be redeemed. Or maybe he would — but by then I was glad to be shut of him and didn’t care</span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2664018
2014-02-28T07:55:47-07:00
2022-02-17T08:56:17-07:00
Recipe: Shrove Tuesday Pancakes
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/467f8d6cd7b6b645f1b3b7be553d388e1ecd0fe7/small/shrove-tuesday-uk.jpg?1393599311" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><span class="font_large">Shrove Tuesday Pancakes</span> </b></span></p>
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Everyone has heard of Mardi Gras — Fat Tuesday — but not everyone will have heard of Shrove Tuesday. From the word <i>shrive</i> meaning to confess, it’s the day before Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent. In Ireland it’s known as Pancake Tuesday. Its origins spring from the traditon of using up eggs, which were commonly not eaten during the Lenten season. The eggs that were laid during Lent were saved and a feast of eggs was a common breakfast on Easter Sunday. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">When I lived in England I was about twelve miles from the town of Olney, which has an annual Pancake Day race that dates back to 1445. The race is only open to the women of the town, who race with their pan a short distance from a local pub to the church and who must flip the pancake at least twice during the race.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">My mother made pancakes every year and Pancake Tuesday was the only time I ever remember eating them. They’re quite different from the pancakes found on breakfast menus all over the US — much thinner and, as you might expect, richer in eggs. They’re usually eaten with a squeeze of lemon juice, a pat of butter and some fine sugar sprinkled on. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I looked around for a good recipe and found one on the Guardian website, along with a video that was helpful. Here’s the list of ingredients with American equivalents and a summary of the directions: </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">125 grams all purpose flour — that’s about 4½ oz </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">225 ml whole or reduced fat milk — about 7½ fluid oz </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1 egg + 1 egg yolk </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">pinch of salt </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">small knob of butter </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Beat the milk and the eggs together. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Add the flour and salt and mix in slowly </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Leave to sit about ½ and hour </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Heat the pan and put in the knob of butter and spread it out until it covers the bottom of the pan thinly and evenly. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Pour enough batter to make a thin coating and cook about ½ a minute</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Then flip the pancake — or, as in my case, try to flip the pancake. You can also turn it over with a spatula … </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Cook about another ½ minute.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Remove to a warm plate.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Repeat </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The Guardian recipe is a bit more detailed and the video is helpful. You can see both <a href="http://www.apple.com"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">here</span></a>.</span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2664009
2014-02-28T07:52:02-07:00
2022-02-17T08:56:54-07:00
Book Review: The New Policeman
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><strong><span class="font_large">The New Policeman </span></strong></span><br><em><span style="font-family: Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px;">Kate Thompson </span></em></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The Bodley Head, London 2005 </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">405 pp. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="font_regular"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/51e118643a8eabbe2757afbb1e45f16e0ed6a141/small/new-policeman.jpeg?1393598954" class="size_s justify_left border_" /></span></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This book is marketed as a children’s book, suitable for Middle School-aged readers but I’d like to suggest that its appeal is much broader than that. The plot is engaging, the characters clearly drawn and, while the story is fantastical and steeped in myth and magic, the characters in the story appear as very real people living in a real Ireland. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I discovered this book quite by accident. I had misremembered someone’s name, and in the process of doing a Google search, discovered Kate Thompson. It was around the time that our recording, <i>The Pooka and the Fiddler & Happy as Larry</i> came out, so the description that I read of this book intrigued and delighted me. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I’ll not go into too much detail about the plot. It involves lost time — not in a Proustian sense but quite literally — an old family mystery involving a possible murder and Tír na nÓg, the land of the forever young. One element of the story that appealed greatly to me was the idea that one sometimes finds in traditional Irish music-making, that tunes are not so much composed as they are learned. The idea that the sound of a stream or the waves on the ocean or the wind blowing through the trees will suggest a tune and that the tune is coming across from some other world. It is the notion of <i>draíocht</i> or enchantment, sometimes translated as magic. The famous tune <i>Port na bPúcaí</i> is a very well known example of this idea. Seamus Heaney wrote a poem on the subject called <i>The Given Note</i> which he famously recorded with the piper Liam O’Flynn. It goes, in part, </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>So whether he calls it spirit music<br>Or not, I don't care. He took it<br>Out of wind off mid-Atlantic. </i></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>Still he maintains, from nowhere</i></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And if you play Irish music, I think you’ll doubly enjoy it. Each chapter ends with the printed music for an Irish tune. So a chapter in which the main character, JJ Liddy, patches up a disagreement with his friend, Jimmy Dowling, ends with music for <i>The Reconciliation</i>. many of the tunes will be familiar to the seasoned session musician but there are some not-so-well-known tunes in there, too. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Kate Thompson is a consummate writer — this book won the <i>Whitbread Children’s Book Award</i> and the <i>Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize</i>. The prose is elegant and brisk, the story is compelling and JJ Liddy is an engaging hero. I enjoyed it very much and recommend it highly.</span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2500983
2014-01-31T13:24:50-07:00
2022-05-12T05:46:42-06:00
Film Review: Kings
<p><br><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><strong><span class="font_large"><span class="font_small"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/a00375baa1b51113fcbb1ac835ae32ac5a499348/small/kings.jpg?1391199423" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" /></span><br>Kings </span></strong><span class="font_large">(2007)</span></span></span><br><span class="font_large">88 Mins </span><br><span class="font_regular"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><strong><span class="font_large">Dir. Tom Collins</span></strong> </span></span></p>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I don’t watch a lot of movies. You may have noticed that is the first movie review to appear on these pages. It’s a complex and rich art form and one that I feel I should be more appreciative of, but movies don’t stay with me the way books do. I really don’t know why and I wouldn’t make an argument for the superiority of literature. It’s just what I prefer.</span><br><span style="font-family: Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px;"> That said, I must admit that I loved this movie. My friend Leslie Jordan told me about it a few years ago and I finally got around to watching it. It was Ireland’s entry for Best Foreign Language Film in the 2008 Academy Awards® and a deserving contender. It’s based on the one-act play <em>The Kings of Kilburn High Road</em> and tells the story of a group of young men who left the West of Ireland to go to work in London. One of that group, some thirty years later, has died and all the action takes place on his funeral day. Jackie Flaherty was a champion hooker (Irish: <em>húicéir</em>) racer back in Galway — a hooker is a type of small sailing boat — and on this day his aged father is arriving to take body back home to the West. His five friends, Joe, Shay, Git, Jap and Mairtín gather to wake him and we watch as the backstory unfolds. </span>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> This is the story of countless Irish people in England — men, in particular — who left Ireland with the notion of working hard and making enough money to return as ‘kings’ and have a good life in Ireland. For most, that day never comes and the irony of Jackie’s death is that, finally, he gets to go back. (A fine book on this subject, by the way, <em>An Unconsidered People: The Irish in London</em> by Catherine Dunne.) I’ve talked about this subject in earlier newsletters/blogs, most recently when discussing<em> I Could Read the Sky</em> and the song <em>It’s a Long Way from Clare to Here</em> and I admit that it’s one that haunts me. I left Ireland in 1969 to go to work in England and there I saw the men in this film — men who years later would be broken down by hard labour and hard drinking. Men who thought some day to go ‘home’ but would find, in the end, that there was no home there. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> The cast is excellent — Colm Meaney as Joe Mullan and Brendan Conroy as Git Miller are particularly outstanding. The soundtrack has won awards and I was taken particularly by the use of old Irish sean-nós songs. <em>Dónal Óg</em> is sung in Irish over the opening credits — “Dónal Óg, if you cross the ocean, take me with you when you are going”. And there’s a beautiful sung version of the prayer <em>A Mhuire na nGrást</em> that occurs at various times throughout the film. The final verse of <em>Donal Óg</em>, again sung in Irish towards the end of the film, takes on a particular poignancy — </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">“For you took what's before me and what's behind me<br>Took east and west when you wouldn't mind me<br>Sun, moon and stars from me you've taken<br>And God as well if I'm not mistaken” </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">There were a couple of times during the film when it seemed to me that the time-frame had been dislocated and that all the events happened a whole generation earlier. The story starts with the young men emigrating in 1977 and the events of the film occurring in 2007. It actually made more sense to me — for a number of reasons — that the emigration happened in 1947 and that the events of the day were taking place in 1977. In the end, it’s not important. The power of the story still comes through. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The dialogue is in Irish — hence the Best Foreign Language category — but it’s subtitled and it lends an air of ‘otherness’ to the film that greatly adds to it. Recommended.</span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2311134
2013-12-31T14:10:35-07:00
2022-02-17T08:58:19-07:00
Book Review: The Country Girls
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/7ae99f9fb76028b36585d26878a97b6ac43eedc9/small/the-country-girls-trilogy.jpeg?1388523921" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><span class="font_large"><strong>The Country Girls</strong></span></span><br><span class="font_regular"><strong><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0px;">Edna O’Brien </span></strong></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><em><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Plume 531 pp.</span></em></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 13px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> <span class="font_large"> I got a nice big stack of new books for Christmas this year. It could have been a little daunting as to where to start, but there were a couple in there that had just recently gone on my wish-list and that I was curious to crack open. The first was Edna O’Brien’s recent memoir, <i>Country Girl</i> and the other was the <i>The Country Girls</i> trilogy — <i>The Country Girls, The Lonely Girl</i> and <i>Girls in Their Married Bliss</i>. The first of these novels, <i>The Country Girls</i>, was published in 1960, created a scandal and shortly afterwards was banned in Ireland. It was called “a smear on Irish womanhood”. It was decried from the pulpit, burned in public by the author’s parish priest and earned O’Brien a reputation as a ‘sexy’ writer. I didn’t read the book at the time — I was a bit young and it was, after all banned — and somehow, over the years I never got to it, despite O’Brien’s reputation as a literary heavy-weight.</span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_large"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> It’s the story of Caithleen (Kate) Brady and her friend Brigid (Baba) Brennan and their life in rural Ireland in the mid-1940s. Occurring in the same times as those depicted in <i>Tarry Flynn</i> (reviewed some months ago), there is an air of sexual repression and a society that is inward-looking, backward and conservative. The narrator is Caithleen, quiet, studious and obedient. She’s a romantic and longs for love. Baba, on the other hand, is brash, narcissistic but vibrant and alive and longs for experiences — the experiences of a single woman. Through much of the book Baba is annoying and unsympathetic. It’s only over time that one realizes that she’s the rebel of the two — or rebel up to a point. I’ve not read the whole trilogy, but from all appearances, she’s the one who finds love and Kate seems to be destined for disappointment.</span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_large"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> I’ve been reading O’Brien’s memoir <i>Country Girl</i> alongside this novel and it is clear that much of the novel is autobiographical. O’Brien’s father was a feckless and often violent drunk who let his estate dwindle into ruin and various other characters in the novel are obviously based on real people. But O’Brien’s big sin was to show the world the nature of the society in which she lived in and how beneath all that ‘respectability’ were people - women - with strong yearnings and desires. </span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="font_large"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> Again, though scandalous in its day, there is something oddly innocent about this book today. In many ways, it’s a lovely depiction of rural Ireland and a simpler way of life. There is much sadness to be seen in people’s lives but much warmth, too. And there’s an odd acceptance of this life — Kate’s deference to men, her blindness to abuse as affection — that make her rebellion seen lonely and hardly worth it. And yet deep in its core I’m reminded of Stephen Dedalus and his motto “Non Serviam” — I will not serve — the sin for which Lucifer was cast from Heaven. </span></span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2311122
2013-12-31T13:59:45-07:00
2022-04-25T13:21:40-06:00
Recipe: Kedgeree
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/d0c01b3fdca56b35a7a439778ac65e2bfca5da8f/small/kedgeree.jpeg?1388523370" class="size_s justify_left border_" /><br><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Mention of kedgeree in the US and will probably be met with blank stares and though I first came across it in Ireland, it's essentially an English dish. It gets its name from an Indian dish of rice, lentils and assorted other ingredients, variously spelled khichri or kitchri.</span></p>
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;">English versions bear little resemblance to the original Indian dish. As with all classic dishes there are always those who insist that there is only one way to make it that is correct. So, in a spirit of culinary ecumenism, I'll confess that I have no such notions of what is the "right" way to make this dish. This is my way and you should feel free to change it as you wish.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">A few notes first. This is a great dish for a brunch as it can be kept warm with no problems. It also makes a wonderful breakfast-- and it is in this role that I am most familiar with it -- or a light supper. It works well with Mimosas or Bloody Marys and can be served with sliced fresh mango or mango chutney.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1 Tablespoon butter<br>Half a small onion finely diced<br>1/4 teaspoon turmeric<br>1/4 teaspoon cayenne<br>1 teaspoon curry powder<br>1 1/2 cups of long grain rice, rinsed<br>12oz - 1lb smoked fish, flaked -- see note below<br>2 hard boiled eggs -- peeled and chopped<br>1/2 cup cream, warmed gently<br>3 Tablespoons lemon juice<br>1/2 teaspoon white pepper<br>Nutmeg</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Preheat the oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Cook the rice as per instructions.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Meanwhile sauté the onion, turmeric, cayenne and curry powder gently in the butter for about 5 minutes until the onion softens.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">In a large bowl gently mix the cooked rice, the onion mix, the flaked fish and the hard-boiled eggs. Then add the cream, the lemon juice, the white pepper and a grating of nutmeg. If you don't have white pepper, black is fine. You will probably not need salt in this recipe due to the saltiness of the fish.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Put the mixture in a buttered ovenproof dish and place the dish in the oven until heated through.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Note on the fish: any smoked fish will do but smoked haddock is considered to be the best. It's what I like, when I can find it. Smoked salmon is a good choice. If the fish you are using is still quite moist just go ahead and use it as it is. If it's pretty dry, soak it in milk for an hour or so and poach it gently in fresh milk. You can use this poaching liquid to substitute for the cream in the recipe. It brings the fat content down somewhat. It's also handy in case you want to adjust the moisture content.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Enjoy.</span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Mick</span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2144188
2013-12-02T09:28:47-07:00
2022-02-17T08:59:56-07:00
Palm Oil Chop
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Every culture has its festive dishes, those foods that signify that “This is a celebration!”. But as cultures are not homogenous and cross into each other in sometimes suprising ways, I will share with you the Bolger family traditional Christmas dinner. It’s based on the Palm Oil Chop, a dish that in Western Africa is synonymous with special occasions. In the early 1950s my father worked in Nigeria, teaching at a college in that part of the country that would become known briefly as Biafra. So the family (at that time just my mother and I) all moved there and spent several years there. Thus were we introduced to the Palm Oil Chop. My mother interpreted it as a Chicken Curry but followed the basic idea of it pretty closely.</span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Traditionally, the Palm Oil Chop is chicken cut into smallish pieces, or cubed beef — or both — and browned in palm oil with ginger and cinnamon and some chilli. Then onions and tomatoes and bell peppers are chopped, added to the oil and cooked until tender — about 20 minutes. Then the chicken and/or the beef is returned and cooked for up to an hour or more. By this time then vegetables will be more like a sauce than separate pieces. Season well with salt and pepper and serve over rice … with garnishes.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This dish is all about the garnishes and that’s where the fun begins. Especially on a festive occasion like Christmas, you can go a bit overboard on the garnishes and it can make for lovely decoration of the Christmas table. I usually serve all this buffet-style. Here are some of the garnishes that I’ve used and you can come up with your own, too.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Dried coconut</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Roasted dried coconut </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Finely chopped red onions </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Crispy fried onions </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Sliced scallions </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Chopped tomatoes </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Toasted peanuts </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Raisins </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Sliced banana </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Fried banana and/or plantain</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Pineapple chunks </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Orange sections </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Mango cubes </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Grapes</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Avocado slices </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Sliced cucumber</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Diced cantaloup </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Cilantro leaves </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Croutons </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Chopped hard-boiled eggs — or serve whole hard-boiled eggs, a là Doro Wat </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Pickled Limes</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Mango Chutney </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Peach Chutney </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Raitas</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">What I recommend is that you put a small amount of rice on your plate. Add a few garnishes that take your fancy, then mix the rice and the garnishes together thoroughly. Add some sauce and mix that in, too. Give that combination a try, then get some more rice and some more garnishes and try out that combination. Yes, the sauce is important but the rice/garnish combinations are where you can have a fun culinary experience.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I usually have a few different curried dishes — a lamb Rogan Josh, spicy chicken in a sauce with cream and banana, perhaps a vegetable curry and maybe some Saag Paneer. </span></p>
<div> </div>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/2144186
2013-12-02T09:05:07-07:00
2017-01-13T17:16:33-07:00
Book Review: A Girl is a Half-formed Thing
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/8d30a39149fc452ed76a13abd9fa4f164c02d17d/small/a-girl-is-a-half-formed-thing.jpeg?1386000143" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" /><span class="font_large">A Girl is a Half-formed Thing </span></span><br><em><span style="font-family: Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px;">Eimear McBride </span></em>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Galley Beggar 2013<br>203 </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">pp</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Some book are a hard read because they’re badly written. Some are difficult because they’re deliberately challenging — <em>Finnegans Wake</em> or <em>Riddley Walker</em>, for instance. Some are difficult because of the subject matter — a number of books come to mind here: <em>Under The Volcano</em>, <em>The Road</em>, Ron Butlin’s <em>The Sound of My Voice</em>. But I’ve never read a book quite like this before — the relentless bleakness, the relentless pain. And the sometimes intense beauty of the writing. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I discovered this book in an article in The Guardian by Anne Enright (who knows a thing or two about dark prose) where she refers to Eimear McBride as a “genius”. And she may be right about that.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">McBride writes in a kind of stream of consciousness, with broken and incomplete sentences, overheard fragments of outside conversation and memories popping in and out, bidden and unbidden. It can be hard to follow at times and the style never really settles into anything close to normal prose. But the style is not ‘experimental’. The experiment is over and she has the thing nailed. The language is used with a precision that tells truth, opens dark places and is fierce in its desperation to put words on perceptions.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The story is of a girl (never named) and her older brother who suffered a brain tumor as a child. There is a bond between the two that serves as a symbol for all that is safe and clean in her world — but the world she lives in is not safe and not clean. When only thirteen she’s raped by her uncle, though, in her telling of it, the encounter is vague and unclear — very likely as it was in her mind at the time. In fact her account of nearly everything is vague and distant, as if some part of her is detached from events. Confused and adrift in a swirling world, she uses sex as a weapon, thinking it her strength. But a drunken promiscuity brings a ravaging of her soul and sex becomes her weakness. She craves humiliation and abuse while all the time trying to heal a great wound inside. It’s a difficult book to explain mostly, I think, because the book is a protracted attempt at an explanation and has an empty distance at its core. The psychology is of damage and incoherence and the book is a vivid exploration of a broken life. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But the language is exquisite. It reads like a stinging poem:</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">“At night I dream. Always. God is. Give me unquiet dreams. When the world. That. I dream. I see the plains of the sea, turning over. Tar. Black as. Through the. My nose press. Open. Close. Like a seal on the ice. Against the smell of rot. Come from black come from. Where the. Where the world is. Turn like. On the face of it. Diving. Feel I that. Where we ought to. I am of the. Off the. Who are you wake. Up. And the window is filled with light.” </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This is a hugely brave book, both in subject matter and in style but it’s not for everyone. I loved it but even those who will love this book will find themselves reeling at times. </span></p>
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Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/1936481
2013-10-27T19:41:10-06:00
2022-02-17T09:00:29-07:00
The ekphrastic poetry of Paul Durcan
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This month I’d like to introduce you to a poet who is rapidly becoming a favourite. Sitting on my desk is a copy of his long poem <em>Christmas Day</em>, which I first purchased when looking for new material for our Christmas show. We like to find material that is perhaps less well known and, though it’s a fine and moving poem, I’m not finding anything there that fits the bill — yet.</span></p>
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;">Though I’d read some of Durcan’s work in anthologies, my first sustained exposure was back in 1994 when my friend, Cindy Reich, gave me a present of a book called <em>Give Me Your Hand</em>, with an inscription inside that read: “<em>To Mick in Niwot. Love and warmest wishes. Paul Durcan. TCD 9.3.94</em>” The poems in this collection are based on paintings in the National Gallery in London. And they are a delight. Rather like improv comedy, they take a slanted view on these familiar paintings and create backstories and observations that draw the eye and the understanding in new and fresh ways. Here you will find Van Gogh’s mother berating art historians; there’s a strange riff from one Jesus who claims he was born in Belfast — “<em>my father Joe was a fitter in the Harland and Wolff shipyard</em>”; an old tiger in a nursing home gets a visit from his nephew: Mrs. Andrews plots the murder of Mr. Andrews.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">James Joyce wrought Dublin as a metaphor for the whole world. Kavanagh used the hills of Monaghan to show that the provincial could contain the universal. But Durcan explores the human mind with its whims and imaginative leaps to jolt us out of our habit of thinking that we understand what we see. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And he does it in a sometimes hilarious way. His own background is a painful one — he was the son of a circuit judge who thought him “a sissy’ and who had him committed, as a young man, to a mental hospital and subjected to electro-shock therapy to cure him of his unconventional ways. This has left many psychic scars, according to the poet himself, but the humanity and compassion of his work and the wry and witty askance views of life are wonderful. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Here’s a snippet of <em>Cardinal Richelieu</em> and all of <em>The Rokeby Venus</em>. <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/028f6f27661e3dbfa4e188f84af317540494f00e/small/cardinal-richelieu.jpeg?1382923452" class="size_s justify_right border_" /></span></p>
<div>
<br><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><b>Cardinal Richelieu</b></span>
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;">Mother, I do appreciate how chuffed</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;">You must be that your son is a cardinal</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But it is a hard old station staying off the drink </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">You in your turn must appreciate</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">That what takes precedence in my life</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Is not you or wine but my red biretta </span></p>
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<br><br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/85e0285954264a955e4f5ebf19f106e515aabf06/medium/the-rokeby-venus.jpeg?1382923511" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" /></div>
<b>The Rokeby Venus </b><br><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;">I lie on my bed</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;">In the raw watching videos </span>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Soap after soap </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Weeping my eyes out </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">On a Yorkshire moor </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">A kicked-over heap of tears </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Is that not what a woman is -</span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">A kicked-over heap of tears? </span><br> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Pity. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Pity about men. </span></p>
<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><span style="font-family: Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px;">There was a stage production that ran for a month in New York last year </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px;">featuring two fine actors, Dermot Crowley and Dearbhla Molloy. I'm hoping that some enterprising presenters will pick this show up and that we might see a tour. </span>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So can see some of the show at their website -- </span><a href="http://www.givemeyourhand.info">http://www.givemeyourhand.info</a> or at <span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHuUS8dDuPI">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHuUS8dDuPI</a></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
</div>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/1922517
2013-10-24T18:33:58-06:00
2022-05-30T06:07:06-06:00
Barmbrack and Hallowe'en
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><b>Barmbrack and Hallowe’en </b></span><br><span style="font-family: Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px;">As you know -- or should know -- colcannon is the traditional food of Ireland and is eaten at this time of year in many parts of the country in celebration of Hallowe’en -- or Halloweve as we called it when I was a boy. Our neighbours over in England (a small island off the east coast of Ireland) tended to ignore the holiday, focusing more on Guy Fawkes Day on November 5, when bonfires and fireworks would mark the day. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The ‘trick or treat’ scenario was different in those days, too. Children (and some adults) would dress up in costume and mask and go door to door. In more rural parts, particularly, this involved the participants doing ‘a turn’, usually a song or a recitation. In return for this entertainment there were the same rewards handed out that you see here in the US. More of a treat for a trick scenario and strongly reminiscent of the old mumming tradition. It was important, though, that your identity not be guessed. I don’t recall a penalty for this but certainly your neighbours would try hard to discover who was behind the disguise. My father had some difficulty in this regard because he had a beard at a time when it was very unusual in Ireland. (I learned at his wake that he was know in the extended family as ‘Hairy Paddy’ to distinguish him from the many other Paddy Bolgers). And, of course, any adults involved in the entertainment would be offered a drink rather than sweets and that was usually when the Da was found out. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">In early October cheap Hallowe’en masks would start appearing in the shops and, a little later, commercially made barmbrack would appear, too. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Barmbrack (from the Irish Gaelic ‘bairín breac’ -- speckled loaf) is a type of sweet fruit bread. Not as rich or fine as a cake but definitely more festive than regular bread. This commercial brand would be shaped much like a regular loaf of bread and have a brass ring, wrapped in waxpaper, somewhere in the loaf . Whoever found this ring would be promised good luck. The homemade, traditional barmbrack would more often be circular and flat in shape and have a ring, a button, a thimble and a sixpence. If you found the ring it meant you’d get married in the ensuing year. A sixpence promised wealth, a button bachelorhood and a thimble meant that if you were an unmarried woman, that was not going to change that year. These same ‘charms’ would be put into colcannon but really barmbrack was the preferred medium. The ‘charm’ was more quickly seen in a sliced of bread and the removal was a much less messy affair than extracting a waxpaper package from mashed potatoes. And, sometimes there would be other ‘charms’ -- a pea or a bean meant poverty for the next year … </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The following recipe is a fairly standard one and you are free to play around with it. I’ve heard of people using cranberries, blueberries, mixed fruit. You might spice it a bit differently. Whatever works. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/d7eb801a19b33acdd2b6f16a139448e927991d34/medium/unknown.jpeg?1382661133" class="size_m justify_left border_" /></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;"><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Ingredients: </span></p>
<p><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">½ lb. all purpose flour </span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">2 tsp baking powder</span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">4 oz. sugar </span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">10 oz. raisins </span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">1/2 tsp mixed spice</span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">1 egg </span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">warm water </span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">butter</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 16px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Directions:</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Preheat the oven to 350° </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">In a large bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, sugar, raisins and mixed spice. Make a well and break in the egg, then use a wooden spoon to mix it with the dry ingredients. Add a little bit of water as needed and make the dough fairly wet. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Sometimes people soak the raisins overnight in tea and/or whiskey. That does add a certain <i>je ne sais quoi</i> but it makes the fruit very mushy and hard to work with. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">LIne and butter a 2 lb. loaf tin</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Spoon the dough into the tin, add whatever ‘charms’ you have in mind and place the loaf tin on the middle shelf in the oven and bake for about 1 hour. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 16px;"> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You can put it on a rack and let it cool a bit and slice and eat with butter. You can store it for a few days -- it seems to benefit from a good rest. At that point, I like to slice it and toast it. It makes a perfect toast with good butter.</span></p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/1739821
2013-09-29T21:29:52-06:00
2022-04-28T06:19:59-06:00
Recipe: Shrimp Bisque
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/823e0bb3c8520def6b82690246b788693e34c6a1/small/shrimp-bisque.jpeg" class="size_s justify_left border_thin" alt="" /><span class="font_large"><strong>Shrimp Bisque. </strong></span><br><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Many years ago - in 1970 to be exact - recently out of high-school and consumed with wander-lust, I hitch-hiked from England to Morocco with a good friend. The fact that we ended up in Morocco was incidental. We were, in fact, headed for Portugal but found ourselves at a cross-roads in southern Spain at noon on a day in the middle of August. We were looking for a lift west towards Sevilla but the only vehicle that stopped (a VW minibus, would you believe?) was headed for Morocco - so we ended up in Marrakesh, then one of the places to be in the hippie world. It was a magical world and I was enchanted. We ended up spending quite a bit of time there and so I only payed the briefest of visits to Portugal before returning to a wintery England and a job in the brickworks.<br> But the short time I had spent in Portugal was enough to leave me beguiled and so, in 1972, I returned there with my great good friend, David Marsh - followed a few weeks later by the lovely Dee, my then girlfriend. We fashioned horseshoe-nail jewelery and sold it to tourists. We made a comfortable living and lived in a house quite close to beach of Praia de Guincho. We worked in Cascais, in the orange-tree-scented evenings when people were out strolling and socializing. It was here that I first truly learned about the pleasures of good food and wine.<br> You could always find wonderful food in Ireland and England -- excellent cheeses, pies, breads, seafood - but in the early '70s wonderful cooking was rare and expensive. The food in Portugal, though, was an inspiration. There were African influences from the colonies in Mozambique and Angola and South American flavours from Brazil. I vividly remember 'Chicken Piri-Piri' - a lovely fiery dish from Mozambique accompanied by Maricujá, a passionfruit drink popular in Brazil. But the indigenous cuisine, 'Frango en Tomate', 'Lombo de Porco Asado', 'Iscas', 'Caldo Verde', Canja', was exquisite. We usually ate at a place called A Tasca - it was still there the last time I looked. It was cheap and great!<br> The following recipe, however, was not a dish that appeared at 'A Tasca' but rather at a place called 'Castro's'. Late in the evening when we had finished our peddling of <i>cravos</i> - this might be about midnight - we would often repair to the Cascais sea-front as the fishing boats were coming in and the fish auction was beginning. We'd often see people we knew - we had a number of friends who were high school age who saw our hippie image as very rebellious; this was fascist Portugal, in the early '70s, after all and I suppose we were quite exotic. Then we'd head for our supper and a cab home. And this was our supper:</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Creme de Camarão </span></p>
<ul> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">2 onions, chopped coarsely</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1 Tablespoon olive oil</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1 Tablespoon butter</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1 bayleaf</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">4 cloves of garlic, crushed</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">3 tomatoes, chopped - don't bother to peel and seed</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Tomato paste - most of one of those wee cans - 5 - 6 Tablespoons</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1 red chili, or about 1/4 teaspoon cayenne</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">salt</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">black pepper</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1 lb or more of shrimp, raw and in the shell</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">6 cups water</span></li> <li style="margin: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1 cup dry white wine</span></li>
</ul>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> Sautée the onions and garlic in the oil and butter until the onions get 'glassy'. Add the tomatoes, the tomato paste, the bayleaf, the chili (or cayenne) and a grinding of black pepper to your taste. Cover and simmer on very low heat for about a half-hour while you go about the next part of the task.<br> This part is a little tricky because you're dealing with shrimp and there's nothing better than properly cooked shrimp and few things more disappointing the the tough, rubbery result of badly prepared shrimp. So, you have some options. You can put the shrimp, water and wine together in a saucepan on a medium heat and as soon as it simmers take the pot off the heat, strain the shrimp and and reserve the water/wine mixture. Or you could, as I do, peel and devein the raw shrimp and set aside. Then cook the skins in the water/wine mixture for 10 minutes or so. Strain and add the liquid to the onion/tomato mixture. Simmer, uncovered, for an hour or so. Let the liquid thicken a bit. About 5 minutes before the end add a dozen shrimp to the pot and let them cook gently. Take out the bayleaf and blend the mixture in batches in a food processor. Strain through a sieve into a clean pot. This might seem a little odd but tomato seeds are indestuctable and though I can't prove it, I believe that no matter how well you've blended something it will be smoother if you put it through a sieve.<br> If you're going to be serving this straight away bring the soup to a slow simmer. Add the remaining raw shrimp and cook them in the soup - about three to five minutes, or so. Remove from the heat and add salt to taste. At this point you might want to add a half-cup or so, of cream. Stir it in gently and adjust the seasoning. Garnish with chopped parsley or cilantro. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">When we supped on this we did so with a loaf of crusty bread, a bottle of vinho verde and a half-kilo of steamed shrimp -- gluttonous, I know. If you can't find the wonderful vinho verde any dry white wine is good or try it with chilled vermouth -- it's not just for martinis. It's somewhat more potent than a regular wine but it's very good with this.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Enjoy.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px 0px 16px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Times; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Mick</span></p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/1739798
2013-09-29T21:24:51-06:00
2022-09-21T04:21:14-06:00
Book Review: I Could Read The Sky
<p><span class="font_regular"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/c2783a81d7a13014008fd987e2a7f5bab0919c51/small/i-could-read-the-sky.jpeg" class="size_s justify_left border_thin" alt="" /></span><span class="font_large"><strong><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I Could Read the Sky </span></strong></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; "><em><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Timothy O’Grady. Steve Pyke.</span></em></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Harvill Press 1997 </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">170 pp </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "> </p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">John Berger, in his introduction to this book, says of it “It’s a bastard. It has been made in the dark, as photos are made in a darkroom … you will find the unsaid all the while here”. And so it is. Perhaps because I know a version of this story personally, I fill in those unsaid things readily. It is a book of photographs -- black and white -- of fairly recent vintage: the early 1990s. But with a timeless quality to them. And it’s a short novel that reads like a memoir. Combined it’s a document about exile and emigration -- interchangeable words in the Irish language. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Emigration is at the heart of the Irish experience. It informs how we think of ourselves and our place in the world. It may be that Ireland has its reputation for hospitality because we know what it is to be in the stranger’s place. There was the huge emigration of Ulster Dissenters in the late 1600s, the Great Hunger that devastated Ireland in the mid-1800s and drove over a million people to foreign shores in a few short years and in the 20th century, short-sighted government policy and harsh poverty have driven further generations abroad, mostly to England. This migration, while better documented and acknowledged, still has a cruel residue. Many of those who went to England seeking work had fully expected to return to Ireland at some time and never integrated fully into English society. They find themselves abandoned there, with few connections back home and lives that somehow evaporated. You will find these experiences documented in the songs of Dominic Behan (and many others) and you will find, in books like <i>Father’s Music</i> by Dermot Bolger or <i>Sudden Times</i> by Dermot Healy, the raw existence suffered by many of those emigrés.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I first went to England in 1969 when I was just short of eighteen years of age. I worked some construction then worked in a car factory. Other jobs included lifeguard and grave digger and a job testing asphalt and concrete. In time, I went to University and then left England for the US. But during my time in England I met many an emigré and tasted that often lonely life. Maybe that’s why this book,<i> I Could Read the Sky </i>had such a profound effect on me. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">In elegant (even beautiful) prose O’Grady evokes a rural Irish childhood, the rich tapestry of neighbour connectedness and the awful wrench of having to leave that known place and go into that other poverty of community where drink and distraction are a paper-thin prosperity and grinding labour saps the soul and strength. In the end what’s left are memories and the odd job sweeping up on some desolate building site; the one little room and the nowhere to go. This book tracks the relentless and insidious way that the spirit is ground down. Even the music that evokes the old life becomes harder and harder to play with hands beaten and brutalised by hard labour. Friends and family move on in their own journeys and fall away into their own distance. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But there is beauty in the telling of this book, a prose that is richer than much poetry you will read. There is a love story of great simple beauty and sadness. It’s a powerfully moving piece of work and I cannot recommend it highly enough. </span></p>
<div> </div>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/1519595
2013-08-31T16:26:05-06:00
2022-02-17T09:05:18-07:00
The Yellow Bittern
<p>In marking the passing of Seamus Heaney we would like to offer you this reading of his marvelous translation of the old Irish poem "An Bunnán Buí (The Yellow Bittern)". Also for your listening is Colcannon's recording of the song; our version gives the first verse in the original Irish and then the verses of Thomas MacDonagh's 1913 translation.<br><br> <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/_K2XRP4l6Rk?rel=0" width="480"></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/sj1QMh-tRrA?rel=0" width="480"></iframe></p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/1519593
2013-08-31T16:18:05-06:00
2013-08-31T16:18:05-06:00
Farewell to Seamus Heaney
<p>I was very saddened to learn of the death of Seamus Heaney on August 30, 2013.</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">Those who know me well know that Heaney was the poet I admired above all others. I first discovered his work (a bit late) back in 1979 when I read <em>Field Work</em> and I’ve been reading him ever since. I had heard of him before that -- knew he was a friend of Ted Hughes, whom I admired greatly -- and I had seen the well-known <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/yourpaintings/paintings/seamus-heaney-b-1939-117820"><span class="s2">painting</span></a> by Edward McGuire in which he looks young and of the times. And I had read some poems in a magazine, poems about Viking Dublin. They were from the collection <i>North</i> and I rather liked them. </span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">But it was with <em>Field Work</em> that I first heard the poet that I came to love and though I also prize his earlier work, too, <em>Field Work</em> will always have a special place in my affections. </span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">Certain poems stand out for me. <i>The Toome Road</i>, where he speaks of the soldiers in Northern Ireland and how their presence will pass and leave what is important and real in the place where he lives: </span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i>O charioteers, above your dormant guns, </i></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i>It stands here still, stands vibrant as you pass, </i></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i>The invisible, untoppled omphalos.</i></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">In <i>The Gutteral Muse</i> we hear his longing for youth, for <i>“soft-mouthed life”</i>. </span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">In <i>Casualty</i> he paints not only the man who will be killed in the sectarian violence of the times but paints the times themselves </span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i>Those quiet walkers </i></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i>And sideways talkers </i></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i>Shoaling out of his lane </i></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i>To the respectable </i></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i>Purring of the hearse ...</i></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">And in <i>In Memoriam for Sean O’Riada</i> he says of the composer/conductor</span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i> He conducted the Ulster Orchestra </i></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i> like a drover with an ashplant</i></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><i> herding them south. </i></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">And yet Heaney is always an Ulster poet for all that he lived in Dublin as long as he did. </span>He was never “herded south”. Irish through and through, he knew there was much to admire in English culture and literature. He knew that the voice of Ulster had that English turn to it as well as an old Gaelic song deep in its heart. </p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">If you’ve never read him, find some of his poetry and read it aloud. Much has been written about him but what will count will be what you will find there. </span></p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/1311077
2013-07-31T07:10:00-06:00
2022-02-17T09:06:01-07:00
Book Review: Ancient Light
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/87ab821eec03693ef929ae6725da83b1ea301220/thumb/Ancient-Light.jpeg?1375325891" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="85" /> <b><span style="font-size: larger; ">Ancient Light </span></b><br><i>John Banville</i><br>Knopf 2012 pp. 304<br><br>John Banville’s books can be hard work. I think I’ve read enough of them to be able to make that statement without fear of contradiction. That said, I will add that he is worth every minute you spend with him.<br>The first book of his that I read was <i>The Untouchable</i>, a <i>roman à clef</i> loosely based on Sir Anthony Blunt, who after an illustrious career as an art historian was unmasked as the ‘fourth man’ of the infamous Cambridge Five spies. In real life this caused genuine consternation for those who knew him. Blunt seemed to be anything but a socialist and, indeed, had close connections to aristocracy and the English royal family. In the novel, Maskell (the Blunt character) is also a mystery to himself and the unfolding of the book is his existential examination of his own life. It’s probably a masterpiece (I think it is) and I remember it as replete with stunning insights into human emotions.<br>This latest work, <i>Ancient Light</i>, is a slow piece and not without some problems. It’s the remembered story of an affair between the narrator when he was a fifteen-year-old boy and a married woman in her thirties. It’s clear from the beginning that the affair will be discovered and a lot of the time is spent while reading the story in a kind of dread of that eventuality. At the time of telling, the narrator, Alexander Cleve, is in his 60s and is a mostly retired actor.There is a subplot about the suicide some years earlier of his daughter, Cass, and a lot of references to events that occurred in two earlier books, <i>Shroud</i> and <i>Eclipse</i>. I’ve not read either of those books and can’t help but feel that I might have gotten more out of this book, had I done so.<br>Therein, in fact, lies my problem with this book. I found it very hard to see the people clearly. Mrs. Gray, the young Cleave’s paramour, remains an enigma to me. Why would a married woman (who was both religious and in love with her husband) have an affair with a fifteen year-old boy? In a small community? The narrator gives no clue. Indeed, the cover of the hardback edition that I read is a picture of an empty slip (see above) and perfectly illustrates the absent Mrs, Gray and the unromantic, unerotic feel of the whole story.<br>Reviewers have mentioned about the narrator’s confused memory, and indeed there are instances of that but it’s mostly about what season it was when events occurred. The real problem seems to be more a case of the self-absorbtion of the narrator and his cluelessness about other people’s inner lives. Whether this is illustrative of a solipsistic youth or is a failing on Banville’s part is not clear to me.<br>The grown Cleave finds himself in a starring role in a film, the lead of which is a young, fragile actress whom he takes under his wing. She’s grieving for her father as he is still grieving for his daughter, but it still seems an almost arbitrary connection and I don’t understand what either party got from the friendship.<br>Characters in Banville books seem to find themselves in situations that they got into by merit of their own actions but without any semblance of volition on their part. I have noticed this in both <i>The Book of Evidence</i> and in <i>The Sea</i>, where the main character seems to just go along in a kind of stunned resignation. And yet these characters seem to be acutely aware of the minutiae of their own emotions if not always of the collective heft of their feelings.<br>Still, Banville’s prose is a wondrous thing -- clean, smooth, precise and full of startling observations. He has a kind of way of triangulating situations. Stating them one way, then moving slightly aside and re-stating “She had an air of faint desperation and at the same time seemed ruefully amused”<br>But mostly it’s the precision with which he can depict the inner ebb and flow of feelings and thought:<br>“Every aurate woman I have loved in my life and I use the word loved in its widest sense, has left her impression on me as the old gods of creation are said to have left their thumbprints on the temples of the men that they fashioned out of mud and turned into us. Just so do I retain a particular trace of each one of my women -- for I think of them all as mine still -- stamped indelibly on the underside of my memory. I will glimpse in the street a head of wheat-coloured hair retreating among the hurrying crowd, or a slender hand lifted and waving farewell in a certain way; I will hear a phrase of laughter from the far side of a hotel lobby, or just a word spoken with a recognized, warm inflection and on the instant this or that she will be there vividly, fleetingly and my heart like an old dog will scramble up and give a wistful woof.”<br>And yet for all this lucidity there seems to be much untold and at the end one is left admiring the writing but somehow perplexed by the story.<br><br> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/1303124
2013-07-31T07:00:00-06:00
2022-02-17T09:06:56-07:00
Squash Overload
<p> <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/51c854b58af704c273cbda1b5334f4e40822bcc4/thumb/Yellow-Squash.jpeg?1375325884" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="90" width="60" />There are many pleasures to having and working a garden just as there are many downsides. It’s a lot of work for the return and when the return is abundant, that’s a problem too.<br>Take Summer yellow squash. In fact, take all of it that you want. This gourd can seem not so much prolific as bent on world domination. Just one plant can yield oppressive amounts of food. Before you know it you have a behemoth lurking in the elephant-ear leaves and you will be advised by well-meaning friends to stuff it. Well, just tell them to do the same with their advise. Stuffed squash is a joke. You can remove all the squash flesh you want, you put together the most delicious filling and you can bake it ‘til global warming reverses and you’ll still end up with an under-cooked, bland refugee from an old folks’ home. It’s a kind of reverse alchemy.<br>I still don’t have a complete strategy but I’ve come up with a couple of simple solutions to the squash problem. One thing I did was use squash in a warm salad. You’ll need about a pound of squash.<br><br><b><span style="font-size: larger; ">Warm Squash Salad</span></b><br><br>1 lb of yellow squash cut into ¼” cubes<br>About 6 oz of chopped onion<br>1 Tablespoon olive oil<br>1 teaspoon of smoked paprika<br>cayenne to taste<br>Salt and pepper to taste<br>Can of cannellini or white beans, drained.<br><br><br>Chop and sauté the onion in the olive oil. When it’s starting to get tender (after a couple of minutes) add the squash and sauté for about another ten minutes. Add the smoked paprika and the cayenne and cook for another minute. Then add the cannellini and warm through. Salt and pepper to taste.<br>You may have to go to a specialty store for the smoked paprika but you’ll be glad to have it in your kitchen. I used a Spanish smoked/spicy paprika and so didn’t need the cayenne.<br><br>I also made a soup using about two pounds of squash.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/c1c97ebc30ec15b46cba4aa790d2a66f799f1278/thumb/Squash-Soup.jpeg?1375325882" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="60" width="60" /><b><span style="font-size: larger; ">Squash Soup</span></b><br><br>2 lbs squash coarsely chopped<br>1 onion coarsely chopped<br>2 tablespoons vegetable oil<br>1 teaspoon ground cumin<br>½ teaspoon ground coriander<br>2 teaspoons curry powder<br>4-6 cups chicken stock<br>½ cup red lentils, washed (optional)<br>Salt and pepper to taste<br>Cream (optional)<br><br>Sauté the onion until tender. Add the squash and the cumin, coriander and curry powder. Mix well and heat through until the spices ‘loosen up’, about 30 seconds.<br>Add the chicken stock and if you’re using them, the red lentils. Bring to a boil and turn heat down to a simmer. Leave it simmering about a half hour. Put in a blender in batches or use one of those handy-dandy blender wands and blend to soup until it’s smooth. At this point you could add some cream to make it more special.<br><br>I still have a lot of work to do to keep this problem under control. The eggplant are starting to propagate and there’s already a myriad cherry tomatoes asking for attention.<br>Time to consult Dennis Cotter or Peter Berley or Yotam Ottolenghi …</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/1043900
2013-06-30T04:55:00-06:00
2023-02-05T07:15:25-07:00
Recipe: Lamburgers
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/0c3cc4837346087cdf4cf30a5ac99a4c1a1cee35/thumb/Lamburger.jpeg?1372611627" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="75" width="125" /> <span style="font-size: larger; "><b>Lamburgers </b></span><br>A good burger is a wondrous thing and everybody seems to have their own idea of what it is that makes a perfect burger. Good meat is a given, as is the preferred temperature -- medium rare, well done etc.. For some it involves a topping of bacon or blue cheese or just classic tomato, onion and lettuce.<br>So, far be it from me to make any claims for this burger, other than to say that you might want to try it for a change. I’ve grilled these up on holidays and seen them be more popular than their beef counterparts.<br>They’re inspired by Indian cooking and are based simply on the wonderful affinity that cumin and coriander have for lamb.<br>I don’t usually bother with a topping other than mayonnaise but I have sometimes added a dollop of mint and cucumber raita or some sliced fresh mango.<br><br>Serves 4.<br><br>6 tablespoons plain yogurt<br>2 teaspoons ground cumin seed<br>2 teaspoons ground coriander seed<br>1 teaspoon salt<br>1/4 teaspoon cayenne<br>2 pounds ground lamb<br><br>Combine yogurt, cumin, coriander, salt and cayenne. Add to lamb and mix well.<br>Form into patties and grill to taste.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/1043859
2013-06-30T04:47:53-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:32-07:00
Book Review: Sweet Liberty
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/9f20f1ee9392ab8eae6f22b7bc71bce92c39d484/thumb/Sweet-Liberty.jpeg?1372610951" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="81" /> <span style="font-size: larger; "><b>Sweet Liberty: Travels in Irish America</b></span> <br><i>Joseph O’Connor </i><br>
Roberts Rhinehart 1996 pp. 317 <br><br>
Any culture, taken out of the place that wrought it, will tend towards caricature. It’s not just that it seems out of place in it’s adopted environment (I think of those hacienda-style bungalows in Connemara) but it also becomes prone to invention and exaggeration. Like Irish stepdancing, where the costumes of today have more in common with a Las Vegas aesthetic than with the rural Irish culture from which the Irish dance sprang. (This aesthetic first started appearing in the US but the Irish in Ireland were quick to adopt it and, indeed, are today probably more ‘glam’ than their American cousins.) <br>
In my own experience as an immigrant, I was baffled from the beginning by Irish-American culture. The idea that corned beef and cabbage was the traditional food of Ireland. The affection for the maudlin ‘Danny Boy’ and the notion that it was ever an Irish song. The wearing of green clothing on St. Patrick’s Day -- not to mention the drinking of green beer. And the comic-book versions of Irish history with the noble Irishman suffering under the perfidious English yoke. <br>
So, when I saw this book of Joseph O’Connor’s a number of years ago, I was hopeful of gaining insight into the forces and conditions that brought about this culture.<br>
O’Connor is an Irish writer (the author of the bestsellers <i>Star of the Sea</i> and <i>Redemption Falls</i>) and is a lover of things American. He refers to the country as “one of the greatest experiments in mass idealism since the dawn of human history”. His affection is profound and real and so, too, is his curiosity. He had lived for four months in New York in 1991 and was told constantly that New York is not “the real America”. “I knew I wanted to write a book about Irish America, but I decided pretty early on that I needed to broaden the meaning of that term. I wasn’t particularly interested in green beer or inflatable leprechauns or that Reaganesque ‘Oirish’ America of complacency and conservatism …” (Of course, it was that America he mentioned that I’m curious about -- and had hoped to gain insight into.) So where should he go looking for this America? Eventually, he decides to visit all of those places he’d heard of as a child -- the Grand Canyon, San Francisco, Dallas, Las Vegas -- but he also comes up with a plan to visit a long list of towns called Dublin along the route.<br>
O’Connor takes to the road starting in Boston (of course!) and ending in San Francisco. What ensues actually gives little insight into Irish America -- most of the towns called Dublin have little or nothing Irish about them. But it does give lovely warm and often hilarious insight into America as seen through foreign eyes. The tone gets a little ‘wiseguy’ if you read too much in one sitting but, truly, it’s hard to put this book down. <br><br><br><br>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/848251
2013-05-30T13:00:00-06:00
2022-02-17T09:10:12-07:00
Irish Soda Bread
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/e678e42849a669e03118390ebe42b7ec68d19704/thumb/full.jpg?1369962378" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="97" width="125" /> Though found in many cultures, there may be nothing more iconically Irish than soda bread. There is, of course, the shamrock and (God help us) the leprechaun -- but few things say ‘Irish’ more than soda bread.<br>When I was very young I would sometimes accompany my father on his rounds in the countryside. He was, at the time, an agricultural instructor -- which would translate in the US as an extension agent. He would go around to various farmers who had asked for advice and there do soil tests, make suggestions on crop rotation or drainage or any of the myriad challenges that crop up the workday life of a small farmer. And at all of these stops he would be plied with food. This was (and probably still is) de rigeur in rural Ireland.<br>At many of these places, soda bread would be baked in a heavy skillet placed on banked embers of an open fire. It seemed, too, that a fairly standard way to check the heat of the pan was to spit on it and if the spit ‘hopped’ the pan was ready. My father was a fastidious man and I think it perplexed many of his hosts that he would refuse the soda bread. The skillet method makes perfect sense, of course. In the mid-1800s when soda bread was first being made (due to the introduction of baking soda from the US) few Irish peasant kitchens had anything as grand as an oven. Nowadays, of course, the oven is where you’ll most commonly find this bread being baked.<br>The bread is leavened by an interaction between the buttermilk (with is quite acidic) and the baking soda.<br>My mother made it regularly -- as well as variations on it, which might involve adding raisins or molasses. But these were more like cake than bread so, for now, I’ll stay with the basic recipe.<br><br>3 ½ cups of all-purpose flour<br>1 teaspoon of baking soda<br>1 teaspoon salt<br>1 ½ cups of buttermilk<br><br>Preheat the oven to 425˚ F<br>In a large bowl mix the salt, the flour and the baking soda together. Add the buttermilk and stir it in until the mixture starts to come together in clumps. Form into a ball and place on a floured counter. At this point resist the urge to work to dough. Shape into a flat disk about a hand span across, place on a baking sheet, cut a deep cross into the dough (go about half way down into the dough) and put in the oven for about 40 minutes. You can check it to see if it looks done or you can carefully know the bottom of it and if it sounds hollow, then it’s done.<br>Set on a rack to cool for a while and consume with good quality butter.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/847949
2013-05-30T11:00:00-06:00
2022-02-17T09:11:15-07:00
New video series: Colcannon talking about Instruments
<p> We get a lot of questions about the instruments we play, so we decided to make a series of videos featuring each of the band members and their instruments. Here's the first installment: Mick and his bodhráns.<br><br><br><br><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Etoq5_6bQOg?list=PL44E3C30B1DA4FD65" width="640"></iframe></p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/641017
2013-04-30T07:00:00-06:00
2022-02-17T09:13:14-07:00
About the song: The May Morning Dew
<p> <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/fc9ec13a4b1a4daad3e1d58e40d4f406b79aef45/thumb/IMG_0739.jpg?1367348916" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="94" /><br><i>The May Morning Dew </i>is one of those songs that seems to have been around forever and is a great favorite with singers and players of slow airs. I have heard it described as traditional but I’ve also heard a story that it was written by a returning emigrant to Donegal. In that story, I believe I got it confused with <i>Slieve Gallon Braes,</i> which has a similar provenance ascribed to it. A few years ago, at a concert in Colorado Springs, I introduced the song and told the story of it being written by an old man who had emigrated from Ireland as a child and who had returned as an old man and had then written this song. A couple of days later I was grateful to get an email from one Alan G. Humphrey who had been at the concert and who directed me to Paddy Tunney’s book, <i>The Stone Fiddle</i>. In it, Tunney refers to Mandy Gallagher of Tullagh near Carrigart at the bottom end of the Rossguill peninsula in the northern part of Co. Donegal. Mandy Gallagher was a fiddler with a repertoire of fairly obscure tunes but he was mostly known as a singer. Paddy Tunny says “Mandy Gallagher had a fine song in praise of the may morning dew” and goes on to give the words much as they appear in the version that I sing. That he ‘had’ the song suggests to me merely that he knew it and that it was a song he was known for. he may have composed it himself but I think that would have been particularly mentioned. Paddy Tunney goes on to say of Mandy Gallagher that “Alas! he died young”. So my guess is that the song is probably traditional and Mandy Gallagher was not the author. I did a little research but the only other reference I found was in Caoimhín MacAoidh’s <i>In Between the Jigs and Reels</i> (p. 174) where Mandy Gallagher is mentioned briefly among other fiddlers from the Carrigart area. However, nothing else is said of him.<br>The song could be said to be sean-nós in English. The sean-nós, or old style of Irish singing is generally unaccompanied, free in its meter and phrasing, features some greater or lesser degree of ornamentation in the melody and is often personal and emotional. And it’s nearly always in Irish. Given that Mandy Gallagher was from the Irish-speaking Carrigart area, the form of the song makes perfect sense but it’s a little odd that it’s not in Irish. This, too, makes me think that it’s a song he acquired somewhere else. And, indeed, we can think of the fact that it’s in English as a good thing for those who don’t speak Irish -- they get to hear a sean-nós song as it was meant to be.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/640401
2013-04-30T05:50:00-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:32-07:00
Coconut macaroons
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/df6d18cfb1bb945d471d8739c37ddec1cd136ee4/thumb/coconutmacaroons.jpg?1367344480" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="75" width="100" /><br><br>
This is a simple and quick recipe for macaroons that made their debut as band chow a couple of weeks ago.They’re gluten-free, very tasty and a breeze to make. The instructions are a guideline. If you find them too sweet try making them next time with half sweetened coconout and half unsweetened. You might prefer more almond extract -- or try making with marzipan. It’s up to you, but this is a good starting point.<br><br>
You’ll need: <br><br>
7 oz. shredded sweetened coconut<br>
1/2 cup sweetened condensed milk <br>
1 teaspoon almond extract <br>
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract <br><br>
1 egg white <br>
pinch of cream on tartar<br><br>
6 oz. Ghirardelli 60% cacao chocolate chips<br>
1 teaspoon canola oil <br><br>
Preheat the oven to 350º <br>
In a bowl mix the condensed milk and the almond and vanilla extracts. Then fold in the sweetened shredded coconut. (It comes in 7 oz. packages; hence the odd measure.)<br>
Beat the egg white with a pinch of cream of tartar until you get soft peaks, then fold the beaten egg into the coconut mix. <br>
Place a sheet of parchment on an oven tray -- and do make sure it’s parchment; wax paper won’t do -- spoon out the mix in little mounds of about 2 tablespoons. This should give you about a dozen middle sized macaroons. Place on the middle rack of the oven and bake for about 20 minutes. Start keeping an eye on them at about 15 minutes; you want to get the macaroons browning slightly on top -- but don’t overdo it. <br>
When the macaroons have baked, remove them from the oven and put aside to cool on a rack. Put the chocolate chips in a bowl with a teaspoon of oil and put in the microwave for about a minute, if you're doing it on a high setting. You can, of course, use any decent chocolate but I really like the Ghirardelli 60% cocoa chocolate chips. And chocolate chips melt easily in the microwave. (The amount of time you’ll need will vary with the microwave and its settings. I start with a minute and zap them about 10 seconds at a time until they’re partly melted.) Then mix the contents of the bowl and allow to finish melting. Dip the macaroons, bottom side down, into the melted chocolate and place them on another sheet of parchment to cool. <br>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/640264
2013-04-30T05:35:00-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:32-07:00
Book Review: Gone Girl
<b><span style="font-size: larger; "><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/d14eb2bc3a099af81f1e1ed8cd04d4609a47fb5c/thumb/Gone-Girl.jpeg?1367343485" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="91" width="60" />Gone Girl</span></b><br><i>Gillian Flynn</i> <br>
Crown. 2012 pp.415<br>
I love a good mystery and I’m happy to read anything from the light witty work of Edmund Crispin all the way to the more disturbing serial-murder fare of Val McDermit. From Poirot to Rebus. I’ll read murder mysteries when I need to relax, or when I’m stressed and I used to be able to recognize a form of depression in myself by my appetite for this kind of fiction -- escapist and ultimately, satisfying with a resolution of the problem and light shone into dark corners. <br><i>Gone Girl </i>is a twisty, dark and disturbing book. Told from the viewpoints of two narrators -- Amy, a wife who has gone missing on her fifth wedding anniversary and leaves behind her diary -- and Nick, her husband who is suspected of doing away with her. The two narrations don’t jibe, however, and Amy’s description of events and personalities seem at odds with Nick’s much more bitter account of their courtship and marriage. There are all kinds of indications of foul play, events that Nick can’t explain and everything points and points again to him as a murder. One’s sympathies are trifled with and things are not-so-obviously not what they appear to be ... <br>
The characters of Nick and Amy are expertly drawn and their voices convincing. The plot has some wonderful twists and, on many levels, this is a hugely satisfying read. <br>
The ending, though ... well, the ending is very frustrating. I will avoid spoilers here and simply say that, first of all, there were some gaping holes in forcing the plot to a non-resolution. And, secondly, that non-resolution is not what I look to mysteries for. I even resented it in Ian McEwen’s Atonement -- a hugely accomplished book but with an outrageous let-down at the end. <br>
I had a look at reviews on Amazon, just to see what others might have thought. It seemed as if all of the one-star reviews quoted the ending as being the problem. <br>
So, the writing is good, the characters strong and real, the plot is powerful -- and the ending sucks. It’s up to you. <br>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/448713
2013-04-01T07:00:00-06:00
2022-05-12T05:47:56-06:00
Book Review: At Swim-Two-Birds
<p><b><span style="font-size: medium; "><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/30914f70a41d4a1993a023a61373ffe8cec36e11/original/989180.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="100" width="65" /><br>At Swim-Two-Birds </span></b><br><i>Flann O’Brien </i><br>New American Library, 1966 pp. 315<br><br>I first read this book (or rather, part of this book) when I was a teenager. At the time its form perplexed me and its content struck me as bizarre and surreal. It was also, in places, hilarious.<br>As far as I can make out, this book has the right to claim the mantle of ‘first postmodern novel’. It was published in 1939, which saw the publication of Joyce’s <i>Finnegans Wake</i> and the beginning of World War Two, so it got lost in the historical and literary shuffle of the time. If Joyce’s oeuvre propelled modernism into strange new territory, <i>At Swim-Two-Birds</i> took a wholly different tack into surreal and self-referential territory. (I admit that I managed to get an MFA in visual arts in the late 1980s without really knowing, or much caring, what constituted ‘postmodernism’. My distrust of the area was due to what I saw as a close alignment with irony. Irony is fine as a seasoning but it makes an indigestible meal.)<br>Anyway, <i>a nos moutons</i> ... The narrator, the first-person-singular, of <i>At Swim-Two-Birds</i> is a young college student, living in his uncle’s house and given to self-absorbed apparent idleness and speculative literary experiments. One among his theories is that there should be a limited number of fictional characters that should be made to do duty in different books -- rather than authors being burdened by having to re-invent new characters all over again for each new book. Further, he states that “a good book may have three openings entirely dissimilar and inter-related only in the prescience of the author ...” He then proceeds to suggest three separate beginnings, one featuring the Pooka McPhellimey, the next a Mr John Furriskey who was born at the age of twenty-five and, finally, legendary hero, Finn McCool. These characters start living autonomous lives quite separate from their creators and go on to mingle with characters from other books, some of whose authors are also fictional. Along the way we also meet a bad-tempered Good Fairy who cheats at cards, the mad king Sweeney and a pair of cow-punchers from Ringsend -- or was it Sandymount? -- who featured in cowboy stories set in Dublin. There then ensues a revenge tale where fictional characters turn the tables on their evil creator. Meanwhile, the original narrator, our college student who, the author assures us in the fly-leaf, is “entirely fictitious’, goes about his life, making dispassionate observations of all around him. Indeed the book casts a pretty merciless eye on Irish pieties and presumptions of the time -- and of the present day, too, no doubt.<br>There are times, I feel, when some passages might have benefited from a little editing but the author seems to be aware of this, too. I’m thinking particularly of times when Finn McCool starts up with the oul’ chat and goes on and on ... but several characters in the book mention his tendency to go on a bit, and the verbosity is the point. Mad Sweeney is in there, too, pretty much as he appears in <i>Buile Suibhne</i>, complaining at length about his lot and all the while declaiming verses about the beauties of Nature. And the truth of the matter is that many of the old legends and stories can be repetitious to long-winded to the modern ear and O’Brien is nor afraid to point this out. You’ll find this same merciless observation in other books of his -- The Poor Mouth, for instance, has some biting satire about Gaelic Ireland and those who champion its virtues.<br>You might also want to try <i>The Third Policeman</i> or <i>The Dalkey Archive</i> for wildly imaginative, funny, clever and biting stuff. O’Brien was a fine and funny writer who may finally (I hope) be getting the notice he deserves.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/448660
2013-04-01T07:00:00-06:00
2022-02-17T09:17:36-07:00
Bookie's Sandwich
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/bc1e44f8451782ef7b8811f632fbc5520bebcacc/original/Bookies-sandwich.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="130" width="130" />A bookmaker (in case you’ve lived a sheltered life) is not one who writes or manufactures books but one who accepts bets on sporting events -- or just about anything else. A “turf accountant” (I love the euphemism of that term) is a bookmaker (bookie) who takes bets on horse races and it’s from that side of the betting world that this sandwich comes. The bookie would be pretty much unable to leave his station during the meet so he had to have something substantial to sustain him through the day. And this sandwich is nothing if not substantial.<br>It’s simplicity itself and can be taken to the racecourse or on hikes or to any event where food will be needed but may not be readily available. It’s great on a picnic.<br>You’ll need:<br>1½ lb. sirloin steak<br>Loaf of bread -- cibatta is good<br>Butter<br>Mustard<br>Salt and pepper<br><br>Grill the steak to preferred doneness and trim extra fat and gristle.<br>Cut the loaf longways and butter both halves.<br>Slice the meat into not-too-thin slices and place on the bread.<br>Season with salt, pepper and your choice of mustard.<br>Wrap in in wax-paper, place between two cutting boards and weigh with books, kettle or anything that will compress the sandwich for at least a half-hour. The juices from the meat will soak into the bread - a kind of more carniverous pan-bagnat.<br>Unwrap, slice into manageable pieces and re-pack in wax paper and foil.<br>This is a big sandwich -- all the better for sharing -- and most satisfying.<br>It’s great with a glass of porter or anything that induces good hearty burps.<br><br> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/334590
2013-02-28T11:05:00-07:00
2022-02-17T09:15:04-07:00
Poteen (Poitín)
<p> Here's a recipe I acquired several years ago. I don’t recall where I got it and I don’t know what legal issues might arise should you decide to take up home distilling. No longer made with potatoes as it used to be, this recipe (I’ve been told) makes a wonderful “drop of the craytur”. It has many health benefits and people who drink it regularly have been known to live as old as forty.<br>You’ll note that there are no potatoes or barley in the recipe. Those ingredients, I’m told, went out of fashion in the late 1800s when sugar became relatively cheap.<br>The distilling process is complicated and requires no small degree of skill -- it also, of course, requires a still. But here’s the recipe:<br><br>7 lbs of bakers yeast<br>42 lbs of brown sugar<br>4 lbs of treacle<br>1 lb of hops<br><br>1. Steep ingredients in 3 gallons of lukewarm water at the bottom of a 40 gallon barrel after steeping fill barrel to three quarter full with cold spring water. Leave in a cool place to settle. After several weeks transfer to your still.<br><br>Here’s a video of traditional singer Tom Lenihan singing a paean to poteen, surrounded by a slew of beer drinkers ...<br><a href="./blog.cfm" target="_new">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mMRMDogu2c </a></p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/334587
2013-02-28T10:30:00-07:00
2022-02-17T09:15:42-07:00
Book Review: Fools of Fortune
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/089c0002e50b4c064a35f2e35aa7ce55d28d3e86/thumb/FoolsofFortune.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="82" /> <span style="font-size: larger; "><b>Fools of Fortune</b></span><br><span style="font-size: larger; ">William Trevor </span><br><i>Penguin Classics, 2006 224 pages</i><br>William Trevor is a joy. If you’re not familiar with his work, you have a treat in store. Best known for his short stories, he’s also the author of a goodly number of novels, many of which have won awards and some of which have been turned into movies.<br>Born Trevor Cox in Co. Cork in 1928, his reputation has grown quietly over the years and he is now thought of as the grand old man of Irish letters and heir to Joyce’s mantle of the great Irish short story writer.<br>His work is often melancholic, dealing with sadness, guilt, loss of innocence and a kind of accepted defeat. I’ve had a copy of The Story of Lucy Gault on my bookshelf for a long time and haven’t (yet) had the courage to read it. I’ve been warned that it’s inexpressibly sad. And yet the work that I have read I’ve also found uplifting and enriching.<br><i>Fools of Fortune</i> is the story of Willie Quinton and Marianne, his English cousin. Set initially in the War of Independence c.1920, the basis of the story is the destruction of the estate of Kilneagh by the Black and Tans and the murder of Willie’s father and two sisters. The Quintons were a Protestant family, mill owners and previously large landowners. Much of their land had been sold during the Famine and the money spent on hunger relief. Because of their religion and social background they are members of a class apart but they are well regarded by the people around them. William Quinton (Willie’s father) even has dealings with Michael Collins, the IRA leader and though he supports the Independence movement with money, he doesn’t permit drilling and training on his property. Then an police informer is found ritually murdered on the property and the Black and Tans stage a deadly retaliatory raid in the night, killing many of the family and some workers and burning most of the house to the ground. Willie and his mother move into a house in Cork City where Willie attends school and his mother quietly drinks herself into oblivion. When his mother commits suicide, Willie is driven to a terrible act of revenge, one that exiles him from happiness and love. And, as is the case in much of Trevor’s writing there is much unsaid and much unresolved. The story does come together at the end but in an almost perfunctory way and after a very long time for affairs to resolve. I needed to re-read the ending at the time. I was afraid I’d been subjected to an ‘Atonement’ ending.<br>The story, in many ways, could be thought of as an extended metaphor for the Anglo-Irish relationship over the centuries and especially during the first half of the Twentieth Century. People become trapped in their roles and their history comes their destiny; the “nightmare’ that Joyce’s Stephen was trying to escape. They become “fools of Fortune.”<br>In the end, though, the book is about feelings and the inner lives of the people involved. Trevor has a most assured hand and the writing is superb. There is nothing extraneous and the habits of a skilled short-story writer serve the story well.<br> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/295190
2013-01-31T12:20:00-07:00
2022-02-13T13:18:59-07:00
Custard
<p> <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/faff9e8acf21745e28e0889f57af80452d5d28b0/thumb/custard.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="98" width="125" /> <span style="font-size: larger; ">O</span>ver the years, many items have taken centre stage as “band chow”. Until recently, it was bread pudding -- see below. I remember for a long time it being Entenmann’s Coffee Cake. Sometimes crumb, sometimes raspberry, sometimes cheese-filled. But I got leery of all the unpronounceables in the ingredient list so I decided to start doing a little baking myself. Hence the bread pudding. And, now, the latest addition is my take on custard. I had to experiment a bit but I think I have it the way I want it.<br>In the summer I use fresh fruit for the topping and in winter I use frozen. The lemon slice offers a tang to cut the sweetness of the sugar and should be removed before spreading the cooked fruit on top.<br>I’ve found that excluding egg whites altogether makes the custard smoother and the slow baking at a fairly low heat seems to help, too.<br>It’s a very rich desert -- but sometimes that’s what’s called for.<br><br><b>For the custard:</b><br>3 cups of heavy cream<br>12 egg yolks<br>2/3 cup of cane sugar<br>2 Tbs of vanilla extract<br><br>For the topping:<br>12 oz - 16 oz of berries -- frozen or fresh strawberries, bluets, raspberries in any proportion you like.<br>1/4 cup of cane sugar<br>slice of lemon<br>drop of vanilla extract<br><br>Place a large tray with water in the oven.<br>Preheat the oven to 300º F<br>Heat the cream on the stove until warmed through or, better still scald it. But be careful. Cream on high heat can suddenly ‘go’ and the resulting mess is no fun ...<br>In an ovenproof bowl whisk the egg yolk and the sugar and vanilla until thoroughly mixed.<br>Whisk the cream into the egg/sugar mixture, making sure it’s smooth and the sugar is dissolved.<br>Place the bowl in the tray and ‘tent’ with a sheet of aluminum foil.<br>Bake for 1 hour and about 15 minutes -- until the center of the custard is firm.<br>Let cool<br><br>While the custard bakes place the berries, sugar and the rest of the ingredients along with a splash of water into a saucepan and place on medium. Heat through and cook about 20 minutes until the fruit is mushy and broken down. Let cool<br><br><br>When the custard and the topping are cooled, spread the topping on the custard and refrigerate until needed. Take out of the ‘fridge about an hour before serving.<br> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/295189
2013-01-31T12:15:00-07:00
2022-05-12T05:48:31-06:00
Book Review: The Real Charlotte
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/b98519d89b13fd6455f75a10a4682e3433b7d226/thumb/images.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="79" /> <span style="font-size: large; ">T</span><span style="font-size: medium; ">he Real Charlotte </span><br><span style="font-size: larger; ">by Edith Œ Somerville and Martin Ross </span><br><i>J. S Sanders and Company 1999, 386 pp. </i><br><br>Somerville and Ross are, of course, better known for their series of three books depicting the (mis)adventures of an Irish Resident Magistrate -- known collectively as <i>The Irish R.M</i>.. This book, however -- <i>The Real Charlotte</i> -- is generally thought of as their masterpiece and its tone is completely different from the humorous shenanigans of Major Yeates, Flurry Knox et al.<br>I first came across it in a reference by F.S.L. Lyons in his lecture <i>Irish Ireland versus Anglo-Irish Ireland</i>, one of a series of lectures delivered in the University of Oxford and collectively published under the title <i>Culture and Anarchy in Ireland 1890-1939</i>. (A highly recommended book, by the way.) Later I encountered a mention in R. F. Foster’s <i>Modern Ireland 1600-1972</i>. Both writers lauded its depiction of a moribund Anglo-Irish Ascendency and its odd place in the changing social and political scene in Ireland in the late 19th century. As had happened so often in the past, the main agitators for an independent Ireland and the main champions of a dying Gaelic culture were members of the moneyed, educated and leisured class, the Protestant Ascendancy, descendants of English planters of various eras. By the end of the nineteenth century they found themselves mistrusted by the Irish peasantry and often despised by the English aristocracy. They lived in an odd social limbo that was being increasingly threatened by Nationalist movements of the late 1800s.<br>The book does not go into the political ethos of the day and, indeed, even the more peasant characters seem to be politically neutral, which is not always the case in Somerville and Ross books. It does help, though, to have some knowledge of the political context of the times if one is to understand the observations made by Lyons and Foster. Still, even without that information the book is an excellent read and the social and political implications are not really that important.<br>It’s a long book, originally published (as was the fashion) in three volumes in 1894. It’s title character, Charlotte Mullen, was based on a real person, Emily Herbert, a cousin of Edith who it appears finagled Edith out of an inheritance. The notes in the book say “She was ugly, powerful, intelligent, a bully, and capable of underhand dealings in order to benefit herself. Edith thought of her as a sort of New Woman gone to the Devil”.<br>The story concerns Francie Fitzpatrick, a young woman of impoverished semi-gentility and cousin of Charlotte Mullen, who received an inheritance that was partly to go to Francie. (Shades of Emily Herbert, again.) Charlotte has connections, social and financial, with the local squirearchy and when Francie goes to stay with her she mingles in unfamiliar society. “Francie’s accent and mode of expressing herself were alike deplorable; Dublin had done its worst for her in that respect ...” But she’s a pretty and vivacious girl and very soon she’s leading a very complicated emotional life, further complicated by social and class conventions. She finds herself pulled by draws of duty, passion and ambition and Charlotte, all the while, schemes and connives.<br>It’s very elegantly written and the language of the Irish country people is well observed and colourful. Transcriptions of what are supposed to be Irish language phrases are, however, perplexing. It’s quite apparent that the authors had no Gaelic. Still, almost every page has a phrase or observation that makes one smile: “When Christopher was irritated his method of showing it was so subtle as only to satisfy himself; it slipped through the wide and generous mesh of his mother’s understanding without the smallest friction.”<br>In many ways, the book is reminiscent of Jane Austen as much as of Victorian writers and while it appears, at first, to be a novel of manners, by Volume Three, it’s a much darker and, at times, a difficult read.<br> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/272731
2012-12-29T06:25:00-07:00
2017-01-13T17:16:31-07:00
Mick's Green Chili
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/25bba859fc233340d99ed430e25f3dab15385b81/thumb/Green-Chilie-for-Web-1024x768.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="94" width="125" /> <span style="font-size: medium; ">T</span>his is a slightly updated version of the recipe that once appeared on our website. I’ve adjusted some things a little but I don’t mind if you want to make your own adjustments. In fact, I welcome insights, suggestions and questions. <br>
I first encountered Green Chili in the early '80s at Rev. Taylor's restaurant in Niwot, Colorado. It was just about the time that their version of the dish had won a 'Best of ...' award from the Boulder Daily Camera. I was only intermittently carnivorous at the time, having been a vegetarian for a long time and the dish was unknown to me. Green Chili? I was intrigued -- and delighted. Sadly, Rev. Taylor’s is no more but I like to think it lives on in the inspiration it provided for this version of that illustrious dish. <br>
I should add here that this, my version, is not necessarily, a heart-healthy dish though it may well have less fat than your breakfast muffin. <br>
Make the salsa first. You can 'squish' the tomatoes in a bowl with your hands. When I use cilantro I use just the leaves -- I really don't know why -- but this may affect your quantities. I usually get a whole bunch, strip the leaves off, then rinse them and chop them. If you use the lighter stems, too you'll probably get more cilantro -- and, in my book, this can only be a good thing. (If you don't like cilantro, don't even bother with this dish.) Use jalapeños to your taste -- but don't be timid. There will be purists out there who will scowl at all the canned stuff -- who will insist on fresh-roasted chilies, homegrown tomatoes and fresh jalapeños. If you can easily acquire those ingredients, good for you. But tomatoes are often tastier -- and more nutritionally rich -- from a can. Fresh-roasted chilies are seasonal and the canned jalapeño to me has a certain je ne sais quoi that has more to do with warmth than heat. Letting the chili sit overnight softens the effect of the jalapeño, but this is a spicy dish so you might want to try it out before you serve it to your in-laws. Feel free to use less than the whole small can but, again, don't be timid. <br>
If you brown the pork gently, then you can add the cumin at the same time. I like lots of cumin -- and this is my recipe so I suggest at least 1 Tablespoonful (1Tbs) -- more is better. And do not be scared by the amount of oil -- in fact, use more if you want -- it will be skimmed at the end, and more oil can actually help de-fat the pork. And do make sure that you get nicely marbled fatty pork -- this is not a dish that benefits from tough meat. <br><br>
Salsa:<br>
1 14oz. can tomatoes, chopped<br>
1 4oz. can chopped jalapeños<br>
1 bunch scallions, chopped<br>
2 cloves garlic, minced<br>
half bunch cilantro, stems removed and chopped<br>
salt and black pepper to taste<br>
Mix all the ingredients together and set aside.<br>
Green chili:<br>
3 lbs or more, boneless shoulder or butt pork roast, cubed<br>
half cup of vegetable oil<br>
1 28oz. can mild green chilies, chopped<br>
1 lb. tomatillos, diced<br>
2 cups chicken stock <br>
half bunch cilantro, stems removed and chopped<br>
cumin<br>
salt and black pepper to taste <br><br>
Roux<br>
Quarter cup of all-purpose flour<br>
quarter cup of vegetable oil <br><br>
Brown the cubed pork in batches in the oil and set aside. Into the remaining oil (or added oil if need be) put the cumin, the chopped chilies, the chopped tomatillos and the chicken stock. Deglaze the pot with the stock. Add the chopped cilantro, half the salsa and return the pork cubes. Mix well and set to simmer for a good 45 minutes to an hour. <br>
While the pot is simmering make the roux. I used to make the roux in the pot as part of the whole cooking procedure but found that this caused the chili the burn while cooking. Now I make the roux at the end and add it. <br>
Heat the oil in a pan and add the flour, sprinkling and mixing. Cook for 5 or more minutes until the flour is a nice blond color or is a little darker. When the chili is simmered well, add the roux a bit at a time and stir it well into the liquid while the pot is on gentle heat. Remove the pot from the heat, let the contents relax and gently skim the fat and oil from the surface. When you have removed what you can, refrigerate the chili and skim again the next day. Like many other stews, this one benefits from being left overnight.
As always, take your own risks with this - adjust it 'til you like it your way.<br>
Enjoy.<br>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/272725
2012-12-29T06:15:00-07:00
2022-02-17T09:19:29-07:00
Book Review: Tarry Flynn by Patrick Kavanagh
<p> <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/55e0f793083f3028d28fa03e08d136809db7ef28/thumb/6a00d83451bcff69e201157121f5f0970c-800wi.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="81" /><br><span style="font-size: medium; "><b>Tarry Flynn - Patrick Kavanagh </b></span><br><i>Penguin Books, 2000. 192 pages<br>Tarry Flynn </i>was the book we could never keep in the house My parents bought this book over and over again and, time after time, it would be ‘borrowed’ and never returned. Now, some forty years after I first read it, it’s an odd experience to re-visit it.<br>Patrick Kavanagh was born in Inniskeen, Co. Monaghan in 1904 and <i>Tarry Flynn</i>, while not strictly autobiographical, draws on his experiences in the closed, repressed, suffocating atmosphere of a poor rural life. Tarry lives with his widowed mother and three sisters on a small farm in Co. Cavan. His mother is the brains of the family and is driven to distraction by Tarry’s vague ways and love of reading. Tarry at the age of twenty-seven is driven to distraction by his celibate state and the more prosaic frustrations of petty small-farm community life.<br>Tarry sees the beautiful in the ordinary things in nature and finds it odd that his neighbors do not. He craves intimacy with women but constantly subverts all occasions where this might happen. His attitude is oddly misogynistic for one whom you might think possesses a romantic heart.<br>His dealings with the priests, who represent power in his community, is equally self-destructive; while he seems to be somewhat hostile to religion, this hostility finds no articulate voice. And his attitude towards his neighbors is summed up in a short paragraph: “There was a worldly wisdom that looked so much like stupidity that he could not tolerate it. He had seen and observed the worldly-wise men of the place with their platitudes and their unoriginality, and he knew he could never bring himself to act as they acted.”<br>Tarry is plainly living in the wrong place and eventually discovers this for himself.<br>I had remembered the book as funny and charming -- and, indeed, parts of it are -- but I was struck, too, by the sadness at the heart of it. This is repressed Ireland in 1938. The Catholic Church is in charge. The Dance Hall Act, designed to curb lewd behaviour and and to discourage modern influences such as jazz music and modern dancing, is in force. The country is in poverty, the second world War is about to break out and the government is pursuing a policy of rural romanticism later to be described in a speech known as <i>The Ireland We Dream Of</i>. So this is not a nostalgic sojourn in a rural idyll, more a indictment of small-minded Ireland. In his essay about Kavanagh, <i>From Monaghan to the Grand Canal</i> from <i>Preoccupations: Selected Prose 1968-1978</i> Seamus Heaney says “ a hard buried life that subsisted beyond the feel of middle-class novelists and romantic nationalist poets, a life denuded of ‘folk’ and picturesque elements, found its expression.”<br>The writing, as you might expect, is strong and clear and at times really lovely. Kavanagh was a powerful poet and, after Yeats, is probably the most-loved of Irish poets. His <i>Collected Poems</i> contains his best work -- <i>In Memory of My Mother, Stony Grey Soil, On Raglan Road</i> and, of course, the hugely powerful <i>The Great Hunger</i>. <i>On Raglan Road</i>, set to the music of<i> Fáinne Geal an Lae</i> has been recorded may times -- my favorite is a version by Dick Gaughan which you’ll find <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29Nlk37DR34%20" target="_new">here</a> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/259517
2012-11-30T07:45:00-07:00
2017-01-13T17:16:30-07:00
Book Review: The Dolmen Book of Irish Christmas Stories ed. Dermot Bolger
<span style="font-size: larger; "><b> <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/a1e018961cf0ecb5e348a86c4a1b6d1cd769668a/thumb/Unknown.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="125" /><br>
The Dolmen Book of Irish Christmas Stories </b></span><br><span style="font-size: small; ">Edited by Dermot Bolger</span><br><i>The Dolmen Press 1986, 164 pp. </i><br><br>
The Dolmen Press has, for many years, been the saviour of Irish poetry. Thomas Kinsella’s translation of <i>The Táin</i> and the wonderful bilingual collection, <i>An Duanaire</i>, were both first printed by this company. This anthology of short stories is a commendable addition to their oeuvre. However, I do have indulge in a little surly observation that some aspects of the book are disappointing. <br>
The cover is a mess. It’s a black and white photograph of a snow-encrusted doorway. Fair enough. Then, in clear red lettering, we’re informed that it’s <i>the Dolmen Book of</i>. Below that, in illegible green capitals, it says <i>Irish </i><i>Christmas Stories</i>. Even when you know what it says, it’s difficult to read. No information is given about the writers. Most were known to me but some were not. No information on the sources of the stories or individual copyrights. And then, the text itself is rife with typos. ‘Witress’ for ‘waitress’; ‘loittle’ for ‘little’ and so on. This is just careless and all the more annoying for being so easily avoided. <br>
That said, this is a fine collection. There are twelve stories, some by well-known authors; others are more obscure. <br><i>Whimsical Beasts</i> by Aisling Maguire is a bizarre little story -- an allegory, really. A young woman is kept a virtual prisoner by an older man in an apartment in a high-rise in the city. He smokes himself to death to provide the foil-paper from his cigarette packets that she uses to make origami figures. When he dies, she leaves. <br><i>Christmas Morning</i> by Frank O’Connor is probably the best known of the stories here and the first appearance in the book of the recurring motif of the abusive, drunken Irish husband. O’Connor is never so good as when he’s seeing the world through the eyes of children. <br><i>No Fatted Calf </i>by Anthony C. West is a very strange story -- deliberately so. On Christmas Eve a man, returned from exile, is making his way through a snow storm to his sister’s house ... I’ll say no more in order not ruin the story, but it does deal with moral concerns and guilt -- two of West’s recurring themes. <br><i>Two of a Kind</i> by Seán O’Faoláin is a story about unreliable narrators -- perhaps including the narrator of this story ... <br><i>The Time of Year </i>by William Trevor stood out for me as the best story in the book. The denouement of the story, in lesser hands, could have seemed cynical or cold but, in fact, is deeply humane and consoling. A superb piece of writing -- but it <u>is </u>William Trevor, after all.<br><i>Father Christmas</i> by Michael McLaverty is a also little bit of an oddball. When I finished it, I remember wondering if it was meant to be comic. It seems always on the edge of turning into one of those Irish misery stories of uncommunicative marriages and disappointed lives -- and yet, it seems quite tender in the end. <br><i>Apaches</i> by Pat McCabe or, as he later became known, Patrick McCabe. Here we see some of McCabe’s fascination with the inner, imaginative world and how events in the real world are interpreted and interact with those imaginings. This same spooky world can be seen is his well-know novels <i>The Butcher Boy</i> and <i>Winterwood</i>. perhaps in others, too, but they’re the only ones I’ve read.<br>
Another odd story but a good read. Someone, though -- either the writer or the narrator -- needs to learn that a prairie dog is not a dog! <br><i>The Journey to Somewhere Else</i> by Ann Devlin is more contemporary in feel. Only some of it is set in Ireland (in the 1950s) and the present action is in France. I felt this was a short story that wanted to be a novel and I could have done with more filling out of some details. Still, a haunting tale. <br><i>Finegan’s Ark</i> by James Plunkett somehow reminds me of Ivy Day in the Committee Room by James Joyce. The chat, the stories and the petty politics pervading small lives. Amusing and a little dark. <br><i>A Present for Christmas</i> by Bernard MacLaverty. I read this story years ago in his collection call <i>Secrets</i> and was greatly taken with it. It is by turns grim and hilarious and you find yourself rooting for the protagonist while, at the same time, pitying him. A very spare economical piece of writing. <br><i>Curtains for Christmas</i> by Brian Lynch. Lynch is better known as a poet and this story left me perplexed. It seemed a weirdly visual, slapstick piece if work. Hard really to tell who’s who or what is supposed to be happening or what it’s all supposed to mean. I kept getting the uncomfortable feeling that a joke was being told that I was unable to follow ... <br><i>Christmas</i> by John McGahern is a tale of self-imposed disappointment and a boy propelling himself into an embittered adulthood interspersed with scenes of high hilarity. McGahern is one of the greats and this story is another standout in the collection.<br><br>
The Irish have long been famous for their short story writers -- Joyce, Mary Lavin, Frank O’Connor -- and this book is a reminder of the power of the genre. It’s a good and satisfying collection and editor Dermot Bolger has done a fine job collecting these stories. <br>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/254065
2012-11-19T12:40:00-07:00
2017-01-13T17:16:30-07:00
Book Review: City of Bohane by Kevin Barry
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/391252f6e3912b0221bbec263f3581b5e6cec559/thumb/City-of-Bohane.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="81" /><br><span style="font-size: large; ">City of Bohane </span><br><span style="font-size: medium; ">Kevin Barry </span><br><i>Vintage 2011, 277 pp. </i><br><br>
When the band travels west on I-70 from Denver to California, I always look forward to that place where the highway ends abruptly in Nevada and makes a T-junction with Highway 15. Your options, at that point, are to travel north to Salt Lake City or south to Las Vegas. I’ve always found this amusing and an odd, existenial choice. SLC is orderly, sober and a quiet place to live -- very much the way I live. Las Vegas, on the other hand, has next to nothing I’m interested in and, to my mind, is mostly brash, vulgar and tacky. And yet, given a free choice, I’d never hesitate to turn south. <br>
I though of that T junction when I read City of Bohane. This is a wild tear of a book. It’s tough, sensitive, civilized, depressing and elating and told in a breath-taking, swirling patois of Hiberno-English and slang. <br>
The story is set in the west of Ireland in about 2054. Some catastrophe has left the world devestated and those who are left live a semi-feral existence and long for the ‘lost time’.<br>
Though the city is divided in various regions -- some are even posh -- one gang known as the Hartnett Fancy rules the roost. Every now and then, other gangs from different parts of the town vie for dominance but none has a leader with the cunning of Logan ‘Long Fella’ Hartnett and, though ostensibly the leader of the gang, it’s his mother, Girly (who is well into her 90s), that is the real power behind any goings-on in town. She lives in her bed in a suite of rooms on the top floor of the big hotel in town, watching old movies of the 1940s and ‘50s, smoking cigarettes and swilling prodigious quantities of John Jameson whisky. Vice is the central preoccupation of life in the Smoketown slum, booze, herb pipes, dream pipes, ‘hoors’. Knives are the weapon of choice -- no firearms to be seen. Outside is the Big Nothin’, populated by the “spud aters”. <br>
There is still commerce in the country and on a sporadic level with other parts of the world -- wine still makes it to the west of Ireland as it did in the days of yore; Galway was once a big wine merchant town. Goods from Portugal -- leather goods particulary. And in this world clothes maketh the man. Central characters are all described at one time or another according to their sartorial preferences. All is meretricious, hedonistic, ambitious, violent and shallow. Except that at the heart of this book there is also love and loneliness and a strange kind of honour. It’s sad, funny and touching.<br>
But it’s the language that makes this book exceptional. Those not acquainted with the lilt and cadence of English as it is spoken in Ireland will have to work a bit. Much of the madcap vocabulary was familiar to me but there are some inventive neoligisms that may take a bit of time to decipher. But don’t be put off. Context and smart guessing will help and nothing crucial will be missed if the odd word fails to connect.
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/218052
2012-09-21T10:00:00-06:00
2022-02-17T09:20:24-07:00
Christmas puddings
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/73fd762f27392960799d4934eb07e0be867c0c7b/thumb/DSC_4057.JPG?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="125" /> It seems as if the Christmas season starts earlier and earlier each year. By the time October comes around I tremble as go into the supermarket, in fear that this will be the day I have make my way throught the produce section as, over the PA, some overwrought diva struggles to wrest emotional depth from ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’. By the the time December is here, I think of Scrooge: "Every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart”.<br>So, you might ask, why am I writing (in September) a blog about Christmas pudding? Well, a good Christmas pudding needs to be made well in advance -- a couple of months at least. So, factoring in a little procrastination, this might be a good time to start thinking about it ...<br><br><b>Recipe One</b><br>This recipe is the family Christmas pudding. I got this from my sister Sorcha who got it from our mother and she, in turn, had it from her mother.<br> My Christmas Day "chore" was to make the hard sauce. I became quite adept at this. The amount of whiskey I put in was more than customary for hard sauce but was generally greeted with approval.<br> <br>Makes about three good-sized puddings.<br> • 1lb bread crumbs<br> • 1lb sultanas (golden raisins)<br> • 1 lb raisins<br> • 1/2lb mixed chopped fruit -- this is the candied fruit you find in the baking section of the store<br> • 1/2lb glacé cherries<br> • 1/2lb mixed nuts -- walnuts, almonds...whatever you like.<br> • 1/2lb butter<br> • 1oz mixed spice -- see below for details<br> • pinch of salt<br> • 6 eggs<br> • juice and zest of 2 oranges and 2 lemons<br> • 1 cup Guinness<br> • 1/2lb brown sugar<br> • 1 shot whiskey<br> Mix all the ingredients except the eggs and the breadcrumbs and marinate overnight.<br> Next day beat the eggs and add to the mixture. Then add the breadcrumbs.<br> Portion into bowls that have been greased with butter. Cover each bowl with grease-proof paper (in America it's called waxed paper), then with a sheet of aluminum foil and tie securely with kitchen string. Boil/steam 3 to 3 1/2 hours for a large pudding; 2 to 2 1/2 hours for a medium pudding and about 1 hour for a small pudding. Cook the same amount of time when preparing for eating on Christmas Day.<br> <br><b>Recipe Two</b><br> This recipe, I confess, is not mine. When I lived in England I was an avid reader of 'The Guardian' newspaper. A regular columnist was Richard Boston, who wrote about food and beer and other such happy indulgences. This recipe appeared in one of his columns. I have since found a copy of it in Jane Grigson's 'British Cooking' which has lots of great recipes and is a lovely read.<br> I've made very slight changes, mostly to 'translate' the English measurements. In the past I've also substituted butter for the suet. The addition of whisky is mine and is optional; that's how I remember it from my childhood. The mixed spice recipe is also mine and may be amended to taste. It will make more than you need for this recipe but it gets a bit fussy and unpredictable when you scale recipes down too far.<br> For the hard sauce we always used butter, sugar and whisky but I've also occasionally eaten this with whipped cream and sometimes with custard. You could probably reheat the pudding in a microwave (without the foil!) but I'm a traditionalist in a lot of ways and have never tried it. It can be sliced and fried in butter -- very good for Boxing Day breakfast.<br> <br>Christmas Pudding<br> • 10oz fresh breadcrumbs<br> • 8oz soft brown sugar<br> • 8oz currants<br> • 10oz raisins (chopped)<br> • 8oz golden raisins<br> • 2oz mixed peel<br> • 8oz suet (shredded) -- or butter<br> • 3/4 teaspoon salt<br> • 2 teaspoons mixed spice*<br> • grated rind of 1 lemon<br> • 1 Tablespoon lemon juice<br> • 2 large eggs (beaten)<br> • 4oz milk<br> • 8oz Guinness<br> • shot of whiskey<br> Mix the dry ingredients in a large bowl. Add the liquids and mix well. Divide between two bowls. Cover with greaseproof paper and foil. Wrap with string. Steam for 7 - 8 hours.<br> You can keep in the freezer or in the 'fridge for several weeks. When I was a kid they would be kept in a cool pantry for months!<br> To reheat: Steam for 2 - 3 hours or see above for suggestions. Douse with warm whiskey or brandy, flame and serve with hard sauce or whatever sauce you like.<br> <br>Mixed Spice<br> • 1 teaspoon ground allspice<br> • 3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon<br> • 1 teaspoon ground cloves<br> • 1 1/4 teaspoons ground ginger<br> • 3/4 teaspoons ground nutmeg<br> • grating of black pepper<br><br><br>Enjoy.<br>Mick</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/204638
2012-08-24T14:40:00-06:00
2022-05-27T13:04:47-06:00
Reviews from the past
<p><i>From the archives.<br>These reviews were written back around 2004 but never made it to the website. It’s not a complete inventory of books I had been reading at the time -- more a smattering of titles that came to mind. </i><br>The first few I suppose I would think of as travel books -- <b>Bill Bryson</b> -- <i>Notes from a Small Island</i>; <b>Peter McCarthy</b> - <i>McCarthy’s Bar</i>; <b>Cole Moreton</b> -- <i>Hungry for Home</i>.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/c6c33571f7bc819f0ae2c7cecfed55638580ec2d/thumb/NotesIsland.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="84" /> <b>Bill Bryson</b> is a wonderfully appealing writer and his travelogue of Great Britain is both amusing and informative. I lived in England for a number of years and have a great affection for the place. Bryson captures the English spirit with an affectionate net and pins it firmly to the page. And, while he is endlessly amusing, he manages to be perfectly truthful about English foibles. Many years ago I read <b>Paul Theroux</b>’s <i>Kingdom by the Sea</i> and, though I think his observations were (for the time) painfully accurate, I found the book depressing and more-than-a-little mean-spirited. Anyway, I recommend the Bryson without reservation; the best book on Britain of that time that I know of.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/89a3cad794e746e225bf93a2b3da772b1c7a7934/thumb/McCarthysBar.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="83" /><br>The late <b>Peter McCarthy</b> made his name with McCarthy’s Bar, which despite its madcap and slightly loony feel, had an underlying current of identity crisis. Born into an Irish family in England, he doesn’t feel English and yet somehow doesn’t manage to feel fully Irish either. He wrestles with the notion of settling in Ireland and travels the country in order to gain some insights to help him make his decision. It’s a funny and often touching book.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/c11526db91fd8a8527fc03606f8f21c68ce0adff/thumb/Hungry.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="125" /><br><b>Cole Moreton</b>’s book, <i>Hungry for Home</i>, describes the circumstances events of the evacuation of the Blasket islands, off the coast of Kerry, in the early 1950s. He does an extraordinary job of describing what island life meant to to the islanders and, later in the book, the yearning in the minds of those now long moved to America. There are many fine books about life on the Blaskets -- my favourite is <i>Fiche Blian ag Fás</i> (Twenty Years a-Growing) by <b>Muiris Ó Súilleabháin</b> -- but Moreton’s book is a valuable addition. I think I have all these books beside each other on the shelf because each of them deals with a notion of ‘home’. Bryson is an American who lived in Britain for many years; he wrote this book just before returning to the States. McCarthy, the English-Irishman wonders where he belongs. Moreton, the London journalist looks at the displaced Islanders in Ireland and America. I was brought up in Ireland, spent my twenties in England and now live in the US; I’m not sure where I belong ... <br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/66e580f3bc3d1cffdbd907aeee4e9d135e39882b/thumb/Rotters.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="81" /><br>Which brings me to <b>Jonathan Coe</b>’s <i>The Rotters' Club</i>. Set in England in the 1970s -- the very time I lived there -- this was pure nostalgia for me. References to music, the social and political scene, the pub culture were all spot-on. I enjoyed it a lot. I don’t know what you’d think of it if you’d weren’t there ...<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/490e24600e25feb93105d327fa2ecc986c38359b/thumb/DarkMaterials.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="107" width="125" /><br>This year I also read <b>Philip Pullman</b>’s <i>His Dark Materials</i> trilogy. Just wonderful, -- imaginative and extremely well-written. It got into a bit of trouble for being ‘anti- Christian’ but that quieted down a bit when the Archbishop of Canterbury came out in favour of it as a moral work. You’ll find a fascinating discussion between the two here.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/7aa0c1e9d1db7856a52c222c64e84bc627a68e19/thumb/Godless.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="83" /> On a similar note, I also found a wonderful book called <i>Godless Morality</i> by <b>Richard Holloway.</b> It argues that our understanding of the word ‘God’, and what is expected of us in that name, is so varied as to be essentially useless in any discussion of ethics, it behooves us to drop the whole notion and work from a humanistic approach. As someone who is more than a little tired of hearing that I can have no real morality if I don’t believe in God, this was a refreshing read, coming as it did, from the pen of the Bishop of Edinburgh. So, if you’re tired of hearing the argument that you have to be religious to be good, you’ll like this book.<br>I’ve also read a fair bit of Buddhist thought -- more from a Western approach than from the classic Buddhist texts. I’ve found <b>Pema Chödron</b> particularly illuminating and I’ve enjoyed the work of <b>Sharon Salzberg</b>, <b>Mark Epstein</b>, <b>Stephen Batchelor</b>, <b>Panjak Mishra</b> and many others. <b>Thomas Merton</b>’s commentaries on Eastern thought have provided some wonderful insight, too. I’ve been meditating for a number of years, so it’s kind of inevitable that I would start reading Buddhist ideas. I must say, I’m greatly impressed with the Buddhist approach. They don’t speak of good and evil but rather skillful and unskillful means; they speak of pain rather than of sin. No Ten Commandments but an Eightfold Path. Buddhist meditation techniques are quite marvelous and the psychology profoundly liberating. I do have some problems with the practice of Buddhism. For a religion/philosophy that eschews ‘attachment’, I’ve noted a lot of people attached to many aspects of the discipline and to the notion of being ‘a Buddhist’; but, in all, it’s a rich humanistic philosophy that is firmly rooted in a kind approach to life and oneself.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/cb3cae0e0c04342faed635415dd752b044051d60/thumb/Wherever.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="83" /> Two good books on meditation are <i>Teach Yourself how to Meditate in 10 Easy Lessons</i> by <b>Eric Harrison</b> and <i>Wherever You Go, There You Are</i> by <b>Jon Kabat-Zinn</b>. The former is a practical, no-nonsense guide to meditating, with observations on gullibility, cults, the vanity of ‘self-improvement’. A wonderfully refreshing take on a subject that can overindulge in the ‘flaky’. Kabat-Zinn might be on the ‘flakier’ side for some tastes but I found the book inspiring and warm and very real.<br>A fiction I enjoyed on the Buddhist theme was called <i>Buddha Da</i> by <b>Anna Donovan</b>. It’s set in Glasgow and is the story of what happens when house-painter Jimmy (what else would a Glaswegian be called) decides to take an interest in Buddhism. The story is told from three points of view -- Jimmy’s, his wife Liz’s and his daughter, Anne Marie’s. The book is written in Glasgow dialect and the voice of Anne Marie is particularly rich. The dialect might slow you down at the beginning but you’ll soon get used to it and it’s a lovely warm voice -- I have family in Glasgow, so I’m a bit ahead of the game.<br>I’ve read a good number of mysteries, of late. Some good offerings from <b>Renee Airth</b> - - <i>River of Darkness</i> and a few by <b>Charles Todd</b> - <i>A Test of Wills</i>, particularly. Both these authors set their books in immediately post-World War One England. The books are pretty dark and fairly disturbing - even harrowing. Lighter fare (though not frivolous) has included books by <b>Michael Dibdin</b> -- <i>Medusa</i> and <b>Donna Leon</b> -- <i>Murder at La Fenice</i>. Both writers place their books in Italy -- Leon’s all take place, I believe, in Venice. Anyway, they’re very fine reads and it’s always nice to get away to somewhere different.<br>Getting “away to somewhere different”, may not be such a pleasure in a couple of mysteries that I recommend but which might not please everyone. <i>The Hard Shoulder</i> by <b>Chris Petit </b>and <i>The Crooked Man</i> by <b>Philip Davison</b> are both very well written and and very quiet books. The crime world is a shabby, grey place in these books but, in both cases, the main characters -- and many of the lesser characters -- are what keep the interest. ‘Engaging’ is not the word I would use but you do end up caring and sympathizing for these people, living out grim existences in Thatcher’s Britain.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/8475056e2f6fd43d5810f538331b1d11c09135c4/thumb/Morality.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="86" /> <i>Morality Play</i> by <b>Barry Unsworth</b> was a good read -- I got this one from Mike. Despite one slightly heavy hand when pointing out the obvious -- and, to be fair, it was only once, but it grated -- he wields a graphic pen. The book is set in Medieval England and involves a band of ‘players’ -- traveling actors. They come to a town where a murder has just been committed and rather than play their usual performance they improvise a speculative enactment of the murder. “I believe this is how plays will be made in the future” intones one -- that was the heavy-handed bit I was referring to.<br>This performance is very popular, but also raises many questions as to what really happened. The time and place are wonderfully captured and worth the read just for that. A film, called <i>The Reckoning</i> has been made of the book; it stars William Dafoe. I’ve not seen it or heard anything about its virtues or lack thereof.<br>Unsworth won the Booker Prize for his novel, <i>Sacred Hunger</i> (also a great read).in 1992. Last year I thought I’d try the Booker winner, <b>DBC Pierre</b>’s <i>Vernon God Little </i>and I have to say I was grievously disappointed. I didn’t find it funny -- it reminded me of another very unfunny book I once tried to read <i>Confederacy of Dunces</i>. That book came recommended by a number of people and I tried hard to like it, but I found the humour unwitty and broad, the characters unsympathetic caricatures -- it was hard to care. The same with ‘Vernon’.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/ca0a58442d3681640ecbbd22e48adff81059a8de/thumb/BrickLane.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="82" /> On the other hand, a runner-up for the Booker Prize completely won my heart. <i>Brick Lane</i> by <b>Monica Ali</b> was a delightful book. It’s the story of the bride in an arranged marriage who comes at the age of 18 to the East End of London from Bangladesh. She speaks no English and knows no-one, not even her husband, Chanu -- one of the best-drawn characters I have read in years. The book is at times hilarious and at other times wrenching, but always you feel great affection for all the characters and the authors affection for them, too. This is a wonderful, richly human book.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/77ec3a472372d3080f34668c0e437bbf10096538/thumb/Walking.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="75" /> On the ‘Sci-Fi’ front -- no doubt, I’ll be offending somebody’s genre definitions here -- I recall <b>Neil Gaiman</b>’s <i>American Gods</i>, <b>William Gibson</b>’s <i>The Neuromancer</i> and I<b>ain Banks</b>’ <i>Walking on Glass</i>. Gaiman was great -- powerful, imaginative and vivid characters; I was sorry when it was over. Gibson, I had a little trouble with. Sense of place got very slippery for me, and, though I came to root for the main character, sense of his identity was pretty slippery, too. Not unrecommended -- I imagine many people would love (did love!) this book. Iain Banks was a revelation; got the book as a present from my old friend, Chris Bareford, when on holiday in England. Three very different stories are heading for a conclusion involving them all. On their own, they’re great stories -- one is an absolutely heart-rending love story -- then they tumble in together at the end. Very satisfying; very good.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/ba8dd09a5cdca88fe7c058356c6ce7a387fd058d/thumb/Strangers.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="125" /> A great little book is <i>Strangers </i>by <b>Taichi Yamada</b>. I’ll not say too much about it; only that I read it in one sitting and so did some others I know.<br>On the nonfiction front I can recommend <i>The Star Factory</i> by <b>Ciaran Carson</b>. It’s memoir of Belfast, my mother’s home town. Brian gave it to me for Christmas and I’ve been dipping into it off and on all year. Carson really knows how to write -- check out the highly recommended <i>Last Night’s Fun</i>. I am greatly looking forward to his translation of <i>Cúirt a’ Mhean Oíche</i> by <b>Brian Merriman</b>. There have been numerous translations (and partial translations) of this 18th Century poem over the years -- I’ve read some parts translated by <b>Brendan Behan</b>, <b>Frank O’Connor</b> and a fairly recent translation by <b>Seamus Heaney</b> of the first 200 words or so and some of the very end of the poem. All the above translations have much to recommend them. But just recently the Guardian newspaper of England printed an excerpt of the first 30 or so lines as translated by Carson and it was just great -- I can’t wait.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/e5f5208285442fcd5705c54763412a6da1ae6d20/thumb/Clare.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="125" /> And while we’re on poetry, I’d like to mention<i> I am</i> -- the selected poetry of <b>John Clare </b>-- English, born 1793 in Northamptonshire. Most self-educated and later suffered severe depression -- and wrote lovely verse.<br>Other nonfiction I enjoyed: <i>Michaelangelo and the Pope’s Ceiling</i> by <b>Ross King</b> - given to me by Mike’s brother, Jim Fitzmaurice, when we were staying as guests of him and his wife Robin. Jim is a fine muralist, so, as you might imagine, this was of particular interest to him -- but it’s a fascinating book about the painting of the Sistine Chapel ceiling and the character of Michaelangelo and his times come vividly alive. So too with <i>Will in the World</i> by <b>Stephen Greenblatt</b> -- a ‘speculative biography’ (quotes are mine) of William Shakespeare. The book starts out in a conjectural tone as what events ‘might have’ happened to Shakespeare or what his situation might have been, but an initial frustration with all the positing soon gave way to fascination as the world of the day is brought vividly to life -- and what a cruel world it was. Torture and execution as public entertainment ...<br>Two memoirs -- <i>Are You Somebody?</i> by <b>Nuala O’Faoláin</b> and <i>Chronicles</i> by <b>Bob Dylan</b>. The former is a riveting read, particularly for someone who grew up in Ireland in the 50s and 60s. The feel of the country is right there and the repression and narrowness are painted all too vividly, Her childhood of neglect has many resonances for me.<br>The Dylan started out promisingly -- after all, here is the enigmatic Bob Dylan talking openly and uncryptically and saying ... nothing. Nothing of real interest, anyway. It’s engaging enough for a while to hear about his early life in the first person but I found no original thinking or observation ... I mean I’m not looking for anything earth-shattering, but the Dylan of this book is a bore. I can’t help but feel that he’s been so successful at being elusive -- which is at least a silly vanity -- because there’s nobody there. Sorry.<br>Have started reading <i>Seán Ó Riada, his Life and Work</i> by <b>Tomás Ó Cannáin</b>. I have a copy of this in Irish that my Dad gave me and into which I have delved over the years. It’s an account of the life and influence of the Irish composer/arranger who was so instrumental (no pun intended) in the great resugence of interest in traditional Irish music fifty<br>years ago<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/95f9ac5e5d2233ee735dbc8332858f0d24e7a2bc/thumb/Card.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="94" /> And speaking of books in Irish, <i>Céard é English?</i> by <b>Lorcán Ó Treasaigh</b> (the title translates as ‘What is English?’) is an absolutely wonderful, funny and moving account of a young boy brought up in an Irish-speaking family in the middle of an English-speaking community. I’m not sure that a translation would do it much credit -- in fact, it might get into some very weird postmodern convolutions if it tried. But, if your Irish is half- way decent, give it a try -- highly recommended!<br>Two books that I would like to recommend very highly are by <b>Graham Swift</b>. They’re quiet, character-driven and set (mostly) in London. <i>Last Orders</i> and <i>The Light of Day</i> are both lovely, introspective and, ultimately, affirming books.<br>A couple of good short story collections are <i>Interpreter of Maladies</i> by <b>Jhumpa </b><b>Lahiri </b>and <i>The Whole Story</i> by <b>Ali Smith</b>.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/adc7213a86be9bbfe0f260af9b16f40f836be77f/thumb/FreshFood.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="100" /> And finally -- a great cookbook: <i>Fresh Food Fas</i>t by <b>Peter Berley</b>. This is wonderful vegetarian food with the recipes divided according to the seasons. Each menu is based around a game plan that can be great help in seeing the structure of the meal before you make it. Everything I’ve tried has been extraordinarily good. Another highly recommended book.<br><br><br><br><br><br> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/200127
2012-08-15T04:03:19-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:30-07:00
Book Review - The Cat's Table
<b><span style="font-size: larger; "><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/f48f06c13cdbc9567cfd841623a0f37de0c8fd07/thumb/Cats.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="85" /><br>
The Cat’s Table </span></b><br>
Michael Ondaatje <br><i>Knopf, 288 pp. </i><br><br>
I love Michael Ondaatje’s work. I haven’t read all of it but several years ago I discovered <i>The Collected Works of Billy the Kid</i> and later, <i>Secular Love</i>, a collection of poetry. Then I found <i>The English Patient </i>and marvelled, yet again, at his superb way with words. He remains a poet-craftsman. Every sentence, every word, is honed to an exact fit and yet seems totally natural and organic. Like John Banville, he also has that way of quite suddenly focusing on a moment that might be passed over and imbuing it with taut meaning. In ‘The Cat’s Table’, for instance, there is an epiphany at a party where the narrator’s wife adjusts the strap of her dress while dancing with another man and it is suddenly clear that the marriage is in trouble. It’s only a simple-seeming gesture and it’s totally convincing. <br><i>The Cat’s Table</i> is Ondaatje’s latest novel and it’s probably his most accessible. He reads like a memoir and, indeed, I’m not convinced that at least some parts of are not based in fact. <br>
It’s the 1950s and an eleven-year-old boy, Michael, is traveling, if not alone, then certainly unsupervised, by ship to England where he will meet his mother. Flavia Prins, an older society lady, is to “keep an eye” on him but, in fact, they only meet a couple of times the entire trip. His older cousin Emily is on board but rather than be his supervisor, he becomes her confidante. There are two other boys who become his friends, the frail Ramadhin who is to stay a lifelong friend and the tearaway Cassius. The book comprises the boys’ adventures on the ship and their interaction with their fellow diners at the Cat’s Table -- the table that is at the social antipode of the Captain’s Table. It’s the place where the “insignificant” people dine. Among these people are Max Mazappa, a musican who is given to pronouncements on women; Mr. Daniels who is transporting exotic plants to England; Mr Fonseka, a teacher of literature and Miss Lasqueti and her pigeons. Some figure more prominently than others, but these and other character are all woven into the experiences of the boys. There’s an Australian girl who rollerskates around the deck at dawn, an ailing multimillionaire, a deaf girl. None of these characters, however, read as caricatures and, as I’ve said before, the novel reads more like a memoir than a novel. So I found it a little odd that in the final pages some of the ‘threads’ of the story were pulled together to present a plot. I didn’t feel it was necessary, nor did it add to the book. Really, the stories and the ruminations thereon were enough. <br>
About half way through the book the action moves for a while to a time many years after the events on the boat and the implications of some of the events on the ship take on new significance. <br>
I do realize that there are those who are deeply frustrated by a lack of plot. Actually, most of the negative reviews that I’ve seen of this book mention being unable to finish the book for that very reason. So, caveat emptor.<br>
However, the book is beautifully written -- just gorgeous at times -- and deeply humane and generous. It is compassionate about what is involved in growing up and seems to suggest that it’s a process that lasts a lifetime. I think I agree with that. <br>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/196525
2012-08-04T07:25:00-06:00
2022-02-17T09:23:58-07:00
Book Review -- The Map that Changed the World
<p><span style="font-size: larger; "><b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/cf2c3147ac8cd2c878a56d1825a5d37b2b62d320/thumb/Map.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="85" /><br>The Map That Changed the World</b></span><br>William Smith and the Birth of Modern Geology<br>Simon Winchester<br><i>Harper Collins pp.301</i><br><br><br>I borrowed this book from Jean’s cousin, Tom Harrison. The band was in Pennsylvania to play a gig for the Wellsboro Community Concert series and we stayed with Tom and Carolynn, his wife, for several most enjoyable days. I’m not sure how the subject came up but at some point we started conversing about this book so I arranged to borrow it and read it when I got a chance.<br>In his usual style -- if <i>The Madman and the Professor </i>is anything to go by -- Winchester writes a great tale while also overstating his case somewhat. The fact is that the map in question didn’t change the world but was one of many pieces of information -- most notably Darwin’s Origin of the Species -- that affected how the world was seen.<br>William Smith was an Oxfordshire engineer, largely self-taught, who worked mostly on canal-building and drainage schemes. In both of these endeavors he excelled and, at one point in his life, made a very good living. He was also intensely curious about the fossils that he encountered as he went about digging into the Earth. It was he who eventually linked certain types of fossils with certain types of rock strata and over time he compiled a geological map of Britain. This not only had huge practical implications when it came to activities such as mining and canal building, but also meant that the eternal verities such as the age of the Earth had to be reconsidered.<br>At the time, the Biblical account of creation was taken quite literally and it had been ascertained by one James Ussher (while he was bishop of Armagh) that the world began at 9 a.m. on Monday, October 23, 4004 B.C. Smith’s findings and resultant map suggested a planet that was much older than that and, of course, cast doubt on the literal truth of the Bible. Still, many notions about the origins of our world were changing at the time and Smith’s contribution, while important, was not as shattering as the title of the book might suggest.<br>Much is also made in the book of how badly Smith was treated at the time and how, at one point, he was reduced to penury. Well, it’s true that he seems to have been widely plagiarized -- not uncommon at the time -- and shunned by an aristocratic, dilettante Geological Society that was no more than a dinner club for rich fossil collectors. Frankly, there’s nothing surprising there and Smith seems to have brought many of his troubles on himself. He habitually lived beyond his means and missed deadlines set by his publisher and even though his contribution went unrecognized for many years, in the end he was given full credit and treated generously.<br>What confounds me about the book is <i>how</i> did Smith go about making this map. I know that from some work he did in mines that he ascertained that certain fossils are to be found in certain rocks. I know that he covered much ground, literally, collecting fossils and from these fossils identifying the rock that lay beneath the surface but I don’t get a picture of how he did this. Britain is over eighty thousand square miles. Even if he only took one sample from each square mile ... Where is he going to find fossils at the drop of a hat? I could go outside today and couldn’t find a fossil if my life depended on it. I would have liked a clearer picture of what was involved in the making of the map.<br>Still, Winchester, knows how to tell a story. He may exaggerate the drama but that’s what much good storytelling is all about.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/194346
2012-07-28T15:35:00-06:00
2022-03-16T10:44:27-06:00
Bread Pudding
<p> Whenever the band rehearses we like to have something to eat and over the years various comestibles have taken centre stage. Until very recently it has been the bread pudding described below. This came about accidently. Jean and I have a traditional Sunday breakfast of toasted English muffins, topped with goat cheese, some chopped spinach and poached eggs. One Sunday, for some reason, we had to skip breakfast and a packet of English muffins sat there sadly, threatening to go stale. I had also been defaulting to store-bought ‘band chow’ and was pondering what I might make for rehearsal that, while it might not be exactly ‘healthful’, might also not be full of unpronounceable ingredients. So, I thought “bread pudding!”. I did a quick Google search -- I’m not a baker, really -- and found a recipe. The recipe below is based on one that featured Bays English Muffins. I’ve adapted it slightly.<br>You might want more chocolate chips in there or you might choose to skip the chocolate all together. Chocolate can be a bit of a bully in puddings, overpowering everything else.<br>We would often have it with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.<br>Enjoy<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/9a656553e6eec136784411b024a1d80ae53051d0/medium/320px-A_slice_of_bread_pudding.JPG?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="225" width="300" /><br><br>4 eggs<br>2 egg yolks<br>1 pint heavy cream<br>3/4 cup of brown sugar<br>1 teaspoon lemon essence<br>2 teaspoons vanilla essence<br>1/4 cup chocolate chips<br>2 ripe bananas<br>1 packet of English Muffins (6 muffins)<br><br>In a large bowl:<br>Combine the eggs, cream and sugar and beat with a whisk until they are well mixed and the sugar is no longer grainy.<br>Add the vanilla essence and lemon essence.<br>Add the chocolate chips and chopped bananas and mix in well.<br>Cut the muffins into 1/2 inch cubes and add to the mixture making sure that all the muffin pieces are submerged.<br>Cover and refrigerate overnight or at least for a few hours. Mix it up a few times to make sure all the muffin pieces get soaked. Add a little milk if necessary.<br><br>Preheat oven to 350º F<br><br>Butter a large pan -- 9” X 11” or thereabouts<br>Spoon or pour the mixture into it.<br>You may now place the pan in the oven or you may place it in a larger tray in the oven and pour boiling water into the tray. In either case, it’s a good idea to ‘tent’ the pan with a sheet of foil to keep in the moisture.<br>Bake for about 1 hour</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/193293
2012-07-25T12:57:55-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:29-07:00
An Irish Storyteller
Here's a link to an interview in Tributary: <a href="http://tribmag.com/2012/07/18/an-irish-storyteller/%E2%80%9D%20target=" _blank><img src="//tribmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/tributary_badge.png" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="We are featured on Tributary. Read more." height="60" width="150" /></a>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/192602
2012-07-23T13:50:00-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:29-07:00
That Unearthly Valley -- book review
<span style="font-size: larger; "><b><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/efd49b46e10926e0fe187cf7ea53ea9abbd24ee9/thumb/images-1.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="78" /> That Unearthly Valley <br></b><span style="font-size: smaller; ">A Donegal Childhood</span><b><br></b></span>Patrick McGinley<br><i>New Island Books 308 pp. 2011</i><br><br>
I know that Patrick McGinley can write. Back in the ‘80s I was enthralled by Bogmail and Goosefoot and other wonderful books that he wrote. I knew he came from Donegal, which is by way of being my home county, but I didn’t know that he came from Glencolmcille. Just this Summer I spent three weeks in Glencolmcille in southwest Donegal. I had last been there back in 1968 or ’69 with my father. My father was the Donegal Development Officer back in those days and sometimes worked with Fr James McDyer, the local priest in Glencolmcille. The Glen, as it’s known, was a good deal different then than it is now and different yet again than it was in 1951, when McDyer was first posted there as a curate. He is credited with bringing material improvements to the area that it was in desperate need of. And, while those improvements were a great benefit, McDyer is not without his critics. McGinley has much on the subject in this book.<br>
In any case, it was pointed out to me while I was there that a little, non-descript cottage that I walked past every day was the boyhood home of McGinley. Then, shortly before I left the Glen I found That Unearthly Valley in the bookstore at Oideas Gael, where I had been co-teaching a class on Irish music. It’s a memoir of growing up in the Glen and I had a fine time reading it, given that the places named were, by now, familiar to me and that the experiences described were, in many ways, familiar to me, too. <br>
McGinley was born in 1937 and educated in Cashel, just up the road from his house, and in Galway. He studied English Literature and Commerce at university and went into publishing in England after a short career in teaching in Ireland. <br>
His descriptions of the moribund Ireland of the 1950s and his compusion to leave are wryly noted but it’s his description of his childhood and most particulary his relationship with his taciturn father that is the core of this book. Fishing, turfcutting and talking take up most of the time and make one long for such a simple existence for oneself. Indeed, I recall visiting the Folk Village museum in the Glen and thinking that a house like the fisherman’s cottage would suit most of my real needs just fine. (My wife, Jean, says I’d need another house just for my books -- but that’s another story.) <br>
The only problem I had with the book was a tendency towards cliché. Differences are described as being like “chalk and cheese’, for instance, and time and again, there are lapses into stock phrases. Things happen “out of the blue”, people “(bear) their learning lightly” or he refers to himself as “not being one of Nature’s optimists”. This is all quite conversational but can be wearing and trite, too. I know McGinley can write and I know he can write better than this. <br>
Still I found the book mostly enjoyable and I’ll probably go back and revisit parts of it
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/189503
2012-07-13T10:45:00-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:29-07:00
Great House book review
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><b><br></b></span><b><span style="font-size: larger; "><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/7b02deb7e47a1b3e667c56ee0c491232b508b744/thumb/GreatHouse.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="125" width="82" /> Great House </span></b><br>
Nicole Krauss <br><i>289 pp. W. W. Norton & Company <br></i><br>
Well, here’s a strange thing. I liked all the parts of this book. It’s four stories in eight chapters, all connected (ostensibly) by a large desk. Except maybe not. I have to confess that I had a hard time keeping the timeline straight and a hard time figuring out who was who. And one story -- the story of the widowed Aaron and his two sons -- seems to stand on its own. Whatever connection (if any) that it had with said desk eludes me now. <br>
The story starts out in 1972 when Nadia, a self-absorbed and lonely writer, comes into possession of the desk. Its owner, one Daniel Varsky, a Chilean poet, is returning to Chile and needs the desk and some other furniture to have a temporary home. <br>
Twenty-seven years later, Leah Weisz turns up and asks for the desk. Leah is purportedly the daughter of Daniel Varsky and even looks like him. Varsky died many years before at the hands of the military junta in Chile and Leah wants the desk as a rememberance. <br>
Having given up the desk, Nadia finds that she’s unable to write and flys to Jerusalem to re-unite with the desk or to find out why it is that she is now unable to write. While there, she becomes infatuated with a young man who look just like Daniel Varsky. <br>
Interspersed in these stories are the stories of Lotte Berg and her husband who live in London. In 1970 Lotte gave the desk to Daniel Varsky because ... well, I’m not sure why. Her husband is at the same time concerned about why Lotte gave the desk to Daniel V. and who she got it from in the first place. And there’s also the story of Aaron, mentioned above. And the story of Isabel who falls in love with Yoav Weisz, brother of Leah Weisz. All of this is very well written -- beautifully written, in fact -- and there are some wonderful meditations on loss and choice and on loneliness, a feeling that pervades this book. <br>
But somehow, the thing doesn’t hang together. The whole story of the desk as a unifying element between the stories of these people doesn’t hold up for me. The connections feel contrived, the rationale for much of the action feels unlikely, and some of the behavior is just bizarre. And there’s a peculiar homogeneity of voice. It seems as if all of the characters are speaking with the voice of the writer. The New York writer, the Liverpudlian housewife, the Israeli doctor all sound the same. <br>
That all said, there is much merit in the different parts of the book and I’m very glad I read it. But it did feel more like a collection of short stories than a novel.<br>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/186957
2012-07-06T07:50:00-06:00
2017-01-13T17:16:29-07:00
Book Review: Bring Up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/bcecb874d54ab0bde0d543412f34b385c1e39823/original/bodies.jpeg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_left border_" alt="" height="275" width="183" /><b>Bring Up the Bodies<br>
Hilary Mantel</b><br><i>410 pp. A John Macrae Book/Henry Holt & Company</i><br><i>Wolf Hall</i>, Hilary Mantel's book before this one, introduced us to Thomas Cromwell, protegé of Cardinal Wolsey and, later, chief minister of Henry VIII. In almost any telling of the story of Henry, Cromwell is depicted as a Machiavellian, amoral, devious schemer. Mantel takes a more subtle brush to limn her portrait and presents us with a much more complex man, one motivated by urges other than raw self-interest. Here is a man who loves his wife, worries about his son, is loyal to his friends but is capable of uncompromising ruthlessness. He is a man of prodigious talents, and possessed of a memory both vast and unforgiving. <br>
"He is the very man if an argument about God breaks out; he is the very man for telling your tenants twelve good reasons why their rents are fair. He is the man to cut through some legal entanglement that's ensnared you for three generations, or talk your sniffling little daughter into the marriage she swears she'll never make. With animals, women and timid litigants, his manner is gentle and easy; but he makes your creditors weep. He can converse with you about the Caesars or get you Venetian glassware at a very reasonable rate. Nobody can outtalk him, if he wants to talk. Nobody can better keep their head, when markets are falling and weeping men are standing on the street tearing up letters of credit."<br>
Those who are familiar with the story of Henry and his many marriages will not need a re-telling of the plot. In short, <i>Wolf Hall</i> tells the story of the replacement of Katherine of Aragon with Anne Boleyn. Anne is depicted as smart, independent and a bit of a flirt. Henry, on the other hand, is something of a dullard and probably in no way the intellectual equal of his new wife. <i>Bring Up The Bodies</i> is the telling of Henry’s replacing Anne, who has failed to give him a male heir, with the dowdy Jane Seymour. In both replacings, Cromwell is the agent and the king’s conscience. There is a point in <i>Bring Up the Bodies</i> where Henry is thought to be dead. Cromwell becomes acutely aware of his own precarious situation (surrounded by enemies) and England’s precarious situation (with no line of succession clearly in place). The tearing down and humiliation, some years earlier, of his mentor, Cardinal Wolsey, also serves as a quiet but relentless urge to vengence. At this point events start to move swiftly. The book covers only nine months with the latter half of the book covering just three weeks. The action moves swiftly and Anne Boleyn’s fate becomes horribly inevitable. Cromwell says: <br>
"Once you have exhausted the process of negotiation and compromise, once you have fixed on the destruction of an enemy, that destruction must be swift and it must be perfect. Before you even glance in his direction, you should have his name on a warrant, the ports blocked, his wife and friends bought, his heir under your protection, his money in your strong room and his dog running to your whistle. Before he wakes in the morning, you should have the ax in your hand." <br>
No argument is made in <i>Bring Up The Bodies</i> for the innocence or guilt of Anne and those accused with her. We see only how the charges are put together and left to our own conclusions. <br>
The ending of the book is harrowing in places and the execution of Anne particularly hard to read. Indeed, both <i>Wolf Hall</i> and <i>Bring Up the Bodies</i> bring medieval England to life so vividly -- the politics, theology, cruelty and the fragility of life -- that there are moments when one has to stop and draw breath. That said, these books are well worth your while. The prose is strong and brilliantly assured, the world depicted is so vivid and the characters so real that it’s hard to stop reading.<br>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/138243
2012-02-07T13:50:00-07:00
2022-02-17T09:25:40-07:00
Recipe: Rogan Josh (Indian Lamb Curry)
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/86b0834dbdcf9a5013a191f9efc4d342dd012feb/medium/lamb-curry.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="199" width="300" /><br><br>This dish is one that appears at most Colcannon Christmas feasts. I don’t eat a lot of red meat but when I do I like lamb. Luckily I live not too far from a good number of Middle Eastern markets where halal lamb is to be had at very reasonable prices. Rather than get the ‘prettier’ cuts from leg or shoulder I buy the lamb that’s already chopped for stew. This has bone and fat still still mixed in but makes for a richer, tastier dish, in my opinion.<br>I like to cook the dish covered for a good long time and then reduce the sauce. I also think that leaving it to rest for a day improves the flavor.<br><br>1/2 cup vegetable oil<br>3 - 4 lbs lamb cut into cubes<br>3 oz fresh ginger, peeled and chopped<br>10 cloves garlic crushed and coarsely chopped<br>1 large sweet onion finely chopped<br><br>Whole spices:<br>12 black peppercorns<br>12 cardamom pods (white or green)<br>8 cloves<br>1 large bay leaf<br><br>Ground spices:<br>3 tsps ground cumin<br>2 tsps ground coriander<br>1/4 tsps ground cinnamon<br>6 teaspoons Hungarian paprika<br>cayenne to taste - a teaspoon is about right.<br>salt to taste - about a teaspoon.<br><br>Have your whole spices and ground spices ready for use.<br>Make a paste of the ginger and garlic. You’ll need to use some water if you’re using a blender.<br>Brown the lamb in batches in the oil and set aside<br>Add more oil if needed, then add the whole spices. Stir once then add the onions.<br>Sautée the onions in the oil. If you keep the heat high and keep them moving so they don’t burn, then 5 minutes should be enough.<br>Lower the heat and add the ground spices and sautée for a minute or two.<br>Now add the ginger/garlic paste, mix in well and cook for about a minute. <br>Add a cup of water and deglaze any bits stuck to the bottom of the pot.<br>Return the browned lamb to the pot.<br>Add water until the meat is submerged and stir in a teaspoon or so of salt.<br>Cover and cook on low heat for two or more hours.<br>Remove the lid and cook another hour on very low heat until the sauce becomes thick.<br>Serve on plain basmati rice with some raita on the side.<br><br>Note: The underlying structure of this dish can be applied to many others. The sautéd onions and ginger/garlic paste are a common base in many dishes. The whole spice can also be whole cumin seeds, whole coriander seeds, mustard seeds, red pepper flakes -- whatever you think will make the dish the way you want it. Then adding the ground spice -- ground cumin and coriander are common. You might also add ground fenugreek and/or turmeric for instance.</p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/132462
2012-01-08T04:15:00-07:00
2022-03-16T10:43:43-06:00
Book Review - An Equal Music
<p><b><span style="font-size: medium; "><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/019274b048eb49030b454ad171dbaf14262830b6/original/books.vsbr.4.jpg?1375882544" class="size_orig justify_left border_" alt="" height="291" width="200" />An Equal Music </span></b><br><i>Vikram Seth<br>Broadway, 1999 400 pages</i><br><br>I’ve not read much by this writer. Back in the 80s I read and greatly enjoyed The Golden Gate, a novel written in sonnets. I thought it worked, for the most part, and was impressed with the undertaking. The sonnet is an unforgiving form and to write a novel of modern manners and have it not end up totally contrived was, I thought, something of an achievement. I avoided his magnum opus, A Suitable Boy. I have a copy on my shelves but am saving it for a future date when I have the time to tackle its 1500 pages.<br>A couple of people had recommended An Equal Music, then one day I came upon it in a second-hand bookstore. It, too, sat on the shelf for a while but just this Fall I got it down.<br>Michael Holme, the main character, is a violinist. He plays in London with the Maggiore Quartet and is recovering (with some difficulty) from a breakdown he suffered in Vienna while studying under the tutelage of an overbearing mentor. He flees Vienna, leaving behind a possible career as a soloist and the love of his life, Julia, a pianist.<br>That’s the set-up and I’ll not go into too many details of the plot, which serves mostly as a starting point for ruminations on love, belonging, individuality, place in the world. It’s a rich book with much to say about a life lived in music and I heartily recommend it to working musicians, particularly classical musicians. It has some spectacularly good writing and most of the characters are richly limned. The only problem I had with it was that I disliked the two main characters and found it hard to sympathise with them. They seemed solipsistic, even narcissistic, and lacking real charm. Michael’s love affair with his violin was (to me) much more moving and understandable than the love affair at the center of the book. The fact that the book is written in a fairly relentless first-person singular doesn’t help. There is some redemption (the title of the book is a reference to that) and there is some self-understanding that comes about but -- to me -- it came a little too late for me to feel much sympathy with the main character.<br>Beethoven’s String Quintet in C minor, Op. 104 plays a cameo role in the book, being a reworking of a piano trio that Michael used to play with his then lover, Julia. When he discovers that Beethoven reworked it as a string quintet (with an extra viola) he becomes passionate about having the Maggiore peform it. As if an old reality could be recontextualized into a new reality. It’s quite a lovely piece -- I’ve added a link below to a performance of the Finale performed by the Fine Arts Quartet - <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VymyW6xwOoo%20" target="_new">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VymyW6xwOoo </a><br><br> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/129035
2011-12-17T08:00:00-07:00
2022-02-17T09:26:46-07:00
Jean's Almond Toffee recipe
<p>Mick is usually the guy with the recipes (he’s the real cook in the band) but I’m going to butt in and share my surprisingly simple almond toffee recipe. I make many, many batches of this every year at Christmas with the intention of giving it as gifts, but a good portion of it never leaves the house...<br><br>You do it all in the microwave, and it’s dead easy. Here’s how it goes:<br><br>12 tbsp butter (that’s a stick and a half; use regular salted butter, not unsalted)<br>1 cup (packed) light brown sugar<br>1 cup coarsely chopped raw almonds<br>a third to a half cup of chocolate chips (I like the dark chocolate)<br><br>Line a pan of approximately 8x8 inches with foil (you need this ready ahead of time)<br>Put the sugar and butter in a biggish microwaveable bowl.<br>Microwave on high for 3 minutes, then whisk it until it’s blended.<br>Back in the microwave it goes, this time for 4 minutes.<br>Now stir in the almonds and pop it back in the micro.<br>Cook it about 2-4 minutes more. This is where the timing gets a little tricky. In my oven, which is not super powerful, it takes about three more minutes- you may have to experiment.<br>Using a spatula, pour it into the foil lined pan.<br>Sprinkle the chocolate chips over it. When they’ve melted, spread the chocolate evenly with a spatula. You might want to save a few chopped almonds to sprinkle on the top.<br>Now the hard part: let it cool<br><br>That’s it. The only tricky bit is getting the timing so that the texture comes out right. But even if you’re a little off on that it will still taste great.<br>Enjoy!<br> </p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/125465
2011-11-27T14:00:00-07:00
2023-12-10T12:27:04-07:00
O'Toole and the Goose
<p>This story, "O'Toole and the Goose" was originally written for a dance-drama performance with the Heritage Irish Dance troop. Here is a version (sans dancers) for your enjoyment.<br><br><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/izsUF2_lQz8?rel=0" width="480"></iframe></p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/108205
2011-08-05T07:55:00-06:00
2022-02-17T09:29:02-07:00
Book review: Charles Jessold considered as a Murderer, by Wesley Stace
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/35514/1825dd32c29a54e4b98e321846cbf45f04e423b4/original/Unknown.jpg?1375882543" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="" height="143" width="96" />Set in years just before and after the the Great War, this novel is a book of narratives. It is the telling and the re-telling of the story of Charles Jessold, the story of a composer who, on the eve of the premier of his opera, ‘Little Musgrave’, murders his wife and her lover before turning the gun on himself. The plot of ‘Little Musgrave’ -- the ballad of Lord Barnard who murders his wife and her lover, the said Little Musgrave -- is only one odd coincidence. There are echoes of the story of Carlo Gesualdo -- almost an Italian version of the name Charles Jessold -- who also murdered his wife and her lover in Venosa, Italy in 1586 and later turned to writing music. All of this comes to light in the very early pages of the book. Perhaps disconcertingly so. The arch tone of the narrator coupled with the coincidences above, summoned a first reaction of “this is all too clever by half”. The first time the story is told is an account given to the police by the narrator, Leslie Shepherd, a music critic and friend of Jessold. The accepted version of events is predicated on Jessold’s alcoholism and “obsessive nature” but as the story unfolds in Shepherd’s re-telling, the story starts to take quite a different turn. The narratives of the book are the underpinng of the structure and these same narratives shift and evade. In the opera, the story of Little Musgrave undergoes an internal change of motives and consequences. Shepherd is to write the libretto, only to discover that an injured War poet is also writing for the piece. There are details about the Gesualdo murders that Shepherd promises to impart to Jessold at some point: that point never comes. Many years after the murders, a Grub Street journalist threatens to write the Jessold story as a lurid, sensationalist tabloid piece -- a narrative full of conjecture and error. This prompts Shepherd -- at the behest of his wife and of the Jessold family -- to write the true story. This true story is not at all what the family might have hoped for. Throughout the book there is much fascinating and erudite musical lore, from accounts of folksong collecting -- very much in vogue at the time -- to critical chit chat about the relative merits of various composers of the day. The prose is a joy to read, the story has many layers and resonances and I found my sympathies changing allegiance then reverting, then changing again. This is a satisfying and rich book and, much more than clever, it’s also a deeply intelligent one.<br>A couple of little footnotes to all of this. The author of the book, Wesley Stace, is better known as John Wesley Harding, under which name he has released at least fifteen albums. If you’d like to hear a really fine version of Little Musgrave, check out Youtube for Nic Jones or Planxty versions. The Planxty one is my favorite. (See video below!)I first came across Gesualdo in a book by Val McDermid -- ‘A Darker Domain’. Even though I love to cook, I avoid mystery novels with recipes: on the other hand I’m always pleased to take musical tips from writers such as McDermid or Peter Robinson.<br><br><br><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/v5nseqixOII?rel=0" width="425"></iframe></p>
Colcannon
tag:www.colcannon.com,2005:Post/108203
2011-07-30T07:50:00-06:00
2022-06-28T03:26:27-06:00
Colcannon- the recipe
<p>I vividly recall, not long after my arrival in the U.S., being informed that corned beef and cabbage was considered to be the traditional dish of Ireland. I had only once, that I remembered, partaken of this dish and that had been served with the apologies of an English friend who served it to a gathering in her small flat in Bedford, England. A student on a limited budget, she explained that it was as far as her housekeeping would stretch. She further explained that among her parent's generation the dish was strongly associated with the rationing and other privations of WWII--in short, that it was considered a lowly dish. Well, in her hands, and with a few shared bottles of stout, it was a far from lowly dish. I have dined well on it a number of times since then--I recall a very good version at a reception in Sheridan, Wyoming when the band was playing there for St. Patrick's day.<br>Good and all as corned beef and cabbage can be, however, no-one in Ireland would consider it the traditional dish of the country. A nice leg of lamb, most probably, would be considered a good and celebratory repast but in terms of an old, and traditionall<br>y revered, dish a plate of colcannon is your only man.<br>Colcannon is eaten at any and all times of the year but by custom should be eaten at Halloween. Another customary treat on Halloween is Barm Brack, a type of fruit bread. When I was a child my mother would put charms in both the Colcannon and the Barm Brack--as you're supposed to do. A button meant you would remain a bachelor and a thimble meant you would remain a spinster for the coming year. A ring meant you would get married and a sixpence meant you would come into wealth--if you were a child sixpence was wealth.<br>There are, maybe, hundreds of recipes for this dish--just check the web for example--and many people insist that theirs is the definite article--kind of like the French with Cassoulet or the Spanish with Paella.<br>So, I'll be general and approximate here; this is food and you should trust your instincts.<br><br>The recipe:<br><br>1 lb. kale or other dark cabbage<br>3 lbs. potatoes (Yukon Golds are best)<br>1 onion, chopped<br>1 stick butter<br>4 oz cream<br>Pinch of dill<br>Pinch of nutmeg or mace<br>Salt and white pepper to taste<br><br>Cook some kale--i.e. boil about 1 lb in lightly salted water. Kale is best, I think, but not required; any dark cabbage is better than a whiter cabbage--again my opinion--but whatever you like. Don't overcook--a little crunchy is good. Start the kale before you boil the potatoes. Drain it well and keep it warm.<br>Boil potatoes--about 3 pounds or so, again, in salted water (it's not the same to add salt to taste later--my rule). If you can get them, Yukon Golds are good. Peel, quarter them and boil them thoroughly--20 mins or more. No skins and no lumps. (My rule.)<br>Saute 1 onion (chopped) in about a tablespoon of butter, for about 5 minutes. Add 4oz of cream and 2 Tbs, or more, of butter, a big pinch of dill and a pinch of nutmeg or mace.<br>Heat through until butter is melted--a tip: don't add cold liquids to warm mashed potatoes and expect anything other than lumpy goo--you've been warned.<br>Assembly: Mash the potatoes, mightily, lovingly, with a potato masher or some comparable implement. DO NOT WHISK; DO NOT PUT IN A FOOD PROCESSOR; DO NOT PUT IN A BLENDER. Just mash them and leave no lumps--it's easy.<br>Chop the kale or cabbage finely<br>Melt the rest of the stick of butter and set aside.<br>In a deeply warmed bowl combine mashed potatoes, kale, onion-butter-cream mix and stir gently; check seasoning - you may need to add a little salt and maybe some pepper (I like white pepper in this dish).<br>Serve: Make a mound of the mixture on a warm plate. On top of the mound make a "crater" and fill with the reserved melted butter. Take spoonfuls/forkfuls of "foothill" and dip in "crater."<br>I've eaten the above with corned beef and cabbage--with which it has a wonderful affinity; with filet mignon and Port sauce; with rashers, tomatoes and kidneys-in-their-jackets at 4am and--God forgive me--wrapped in a tortilla, microwaved and eaten, over the sink, with salsa.<br>Depending on what you're serving it with, you might serve stout, buttermilk or, as with the filet mignon mentioned above, a nice claret.<br>OK. A lot of this is up to you--it takes a little courage to make a recipe one's own. I have witnessed the "execution" of many a fine recipe by different cooks and seen some others take simple dishes on to great heights. This can be a fine dish when done right and if you take your time it will yield to you.<br><br>Enjoy.<br><br>Mick<br><br><br> </p>
Colcannon