Friday, August 30, 2013

Island music

Island Music


On the west coast of Ireland is the wee town of Doolin. You can catch some TRAD here, seven nights a week, or catch a ferry to Inisheer. Just a 30 minute boat ride to the tiny village, if you're lucky, you might catch what we thought was the most traditional of Irish music.

Inisheer doesn't draw the crowds that Inishmore does, but as the Aran Islands go, it's worthy of an overnight stop. There are a handful of sights, a few B&B's, a hostel, and 3 pubs. All in walking distance. As a matter of fact, it's all walking distance. The island is only 3 miles around. Locals get around by trap, a horse pulled wagon.

From the pier, hang a right, and head for Ned's-Tigh Ned(house of Ned). Grab a pint and ask for Ned. If he's in you're in for a treat, this guy will CRAIC you up. If he's not in, have a local point to a picture on the wall of Ned, it will crack you up.

No time to hurry, you're on island time. Even if the B&B's are booked, there's always the hostel next door to Tigh Ned. I was hoping to make this a hostel night, Hali opted for our own en-suite room, full Irish breakfast. No problem. There's a place over a pub a short walk away. We check in, then check out the ruckus below in the pub. Just a few guys, having a few pints, before they take the ferry back in a few minutes.

From our room we can see a ruined cast atop a hill. Gotta see this!! We passed the castle gate and were heading toward a "newer" ruin. Something Napolean had built for his Army. Just down the way, along the rock fences we hear music. It's coming from the castle ruins. Under the towering ruins of the castle was a large group of school aged children playing traditional Irish music. With their pipes, drums, squeezeboxes, and bare feet, they played. In between songs, the adults would assemble the children on the grass for traditional Irish dance, in their bare feet. No fancy costumes, headwear, or big shoes- in their bare feet. Real Traditional Irish dance.

Stay a while. Check out the breathtaking landscape sweeping into the Atlantic. Step into your imaginary time machine, and go back 1500 years. You'll be visiting the O'Brien clan, atop this hill, 20 miles from the mainland, watching children dance to island music.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY

I remember well this day in August, twenty-one years ago. I was at work and Hali called saying she was having contractions. "Couldn't be", I told her. I knew it just can't be. The baby's not due for two weeks. She calls a couple hours later, " The contractions are getting stronger and closer together. GET  HOME!!"

Long story short, I did get home, after mailing airline tickets to my mother-in-law with a brief note that said something like, "GET UP HERE!!"

Brought Hali into the hospital (after I had a plate of spaghetti) and sure enough, we were having a baby...soon! Three hours later, our little girl had arrived. Arrived, as if delivered in a little pink package.

It seemed so natural for me to be in that room with my brand new pink shirt: cutting cords, mopping floors, swaddling a baby. Me, a guy who faints when getting blood drawn, looking at gory scars, vaccinations(someone else's). Somehow this was different. This was the "extension" of me that I was now going to take care of. My little girl.

Two weeks early? Dang, we didn't even have a name yet. We were "required" to go back a few days later to submit a name. And the name came to us after watching rhythmic gymnastics during the 1992 Summer Olympics in Barcelona. A little girl competitor from Spain, Carmen.

So 21 years later, I will be delivering my gift to you, Carmen, I hope you like it...



Hurry, open it up!!

Good things DO come in pink boxes.

I love you. Well done, you're 21!

www.passportsandpostcards.com

Monday, August 26, 2013

Pot Luck Brew

Since April, our objective in I uncluttering has been to sell something each week. Whether we use EBay, Craigslist, or our July yard sale, we have been determined to shed ourselves of "things".

With the exception of our Ireland trip and road trip to Southern California, we have stayed on course.
There have been weeks that we've had three sales. Other weeks we'll give something away for free. People love FREE. Whatever the case we're cleaning house. 

Everyday I scour Craigslist"WANTED" posts. It's amazing what people are looking for: witch doctors, chicken poop, adult diapers, hops. Whoa, wait a minute, hops? I've got those. I've had them a few years and just love the viney, climbing foilage of the hop plant.This has been my best year for my hop vine and they're ripe for pickin' right now.

So I responded to the"FREE hops wanted"post. Matt was over the next day to pick my hops and collaborate them with the rest of his hop harvest. Matt will be brewing a neighborhood hop growers brew, cooking together all his collective hops for what he calls "pot luck" beer. After fermentation and bottling, he'll invite all his hop growing community to a pot luck afternoon paired with his "pot luck" beer.

Sometimes it is more satisfying giving something away for FREE than it is to actually sell it. 

I'm looking forward for this hop pot luck. Thanks Matt for turning these~

Into this~

 www.passportsandpostcards.com

 Cheers Neighbors!

Friday, August 23, 2013

Puppy Love


I have often been called a dog whisperer, a dog magnet, and even a dirty dog. Probably because I've always had a dog and have a way with a muttly canine crew.

Like a box score, I can read most dogs. Maybe in my caveman past, the taming of a dog was my way to provide food or late night entertainment beside the fire. Whatever the case, dogs love Woody. A dog will follow me like my shadow. It's because it is me who normally feeds them. Remember the old proverb, Don't bite the hand that feeds you? My dogs do. No, not bite, they remember that old saying and I've got all ten fingers to prove it.

And for every dog, I've got an affectionately earned nickname: Big Head, Monkey Man, Goosey Girl, Boney, 'Los. I find myself constantly talking with my dogs, they understand me, and me them. That is our foundation, my whisper, with my doggie friends. 

It starts with a gentle pet. Just a pet. Perhaps that is the origin of the term, pet. And they call it puppy love.

www.passportsandpostcards

By the way, I still send Carlos a postcard when traveling. Woof!!


Sunday, August 18, 2013

Ready...Wrestle...


We stopped in the tiny town of Snee while driving around the Ring of Kerry. Time to stretch and get an ice cream cone. What I didn't know was that a local Irish hero was standing right there in the town square. All bronze and fit stood Steve"the Crusher"Casey ready to take me down.

Yea, I won my fair share of medals wrestling in High School. No bronze statue though. As a matter of fact, I just sold all of those hard earned medals for a dime apiece at the yard sale. These medals were just stuffed into an old box in the basement that I had forgotten about. Years of blood, sweat, and tears went into that handful of medals, for what? Eighty cents. 

Obviously someone wanted them, I didn't. Not anymore. They sat for over 30 years in a box, neglected. Now they are adorning some total strangers letterman's jacket(I could only wish).

I'll tell you what, Steve"the Crusher"Casey, my wrestling coach, Mr. Hunter, gave me a cool nickname too,"Whitehead". No it wasn't my pimply face but rather my bleach blonde perfectly groomed hair.

All right guys, now shake hands. Ready... wrestle.

www.passportsandpostcards.com








Saturday, August 17, 2013

Hop Head

I confess, I'm a Hop Head. It's hard not to be a hop head here in Portland. As a matter of fact, Hali and I fell in love with Portland in 1990 and decided then to move to Beervana.

Our infatuation with this town started at Bridgeport brewing, the Granddaddy of all breweries. Sitting out on the loading dock with our dog, sipping their flagship IPA, being wooed by brewers and their tours, all lead up to our marriage to this"micro"city. Again, nearly impossible not to love a town that boasts of more microbreweries than any other.

So, since my dog wouldn't stand for pet chickens, I planted hops. Very low maintenance, hops grow from a tuber root, and mature with age(like my dog, Carlos). Just get a sunny southwest spot in the yard, and like Jack-in-the Beanstalk, watch it grow. In early summer, you can actually see it grow inches in a day. All while sippin' an IPA.

So mid- August comes around and there are those lovely hop cones. Pluck them off at the height of ripeness-like right NOW! Find another local hop head, probably a neighbor, to collaborate with your very own brew. Come up with some catchy name like, Hop on Pope, and pretty soon you'll be the talk of the town. Or at the very least, the talk of the block.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Soup du Jour

On my first attempt to decipher a French menu, I blindly ordered by simply closing my eyes, circling my finger, and pointing at the menu for our waiter. With a wry grin, he said, "Merci", and dashed back to the kitchen. Turns out, I ordered lambs brains in a white sauce. I was hungry, so I ate it. 

Had they put French onion soup on the menu, it would have been a no brainer. Go with what you know. But I have never had French onion soup in France nor have I ever seen it as the soup du jour in a French cafe.

Want to impress dinner guests? Make French onion soup. It's tasty and simple.

Open a bottle of white wine. It doesn't have to be French wine, but I'm pretty sure that's how this soup got its name. Pour yourself a glass. Now start chopping onions, lots of onions. I prefer the Northwest Walla Wallas but they can be any onion. After you've cut four or five onions, wipe your eyes, and sip your wine. You deserve it.

In a large pot, melt a half stick butter. Throw in onions and cover, simmer for 20 minutes stirring occasionally. Cut a few green onions, grate some gruyere( yes, a Swiss cheese), and slice a baguette. Set aside.

Once the onions have cooked down, pour in a cup of the wine plus another dash for good luck. Stir. Now pour in a quart of beef broth. This stuff is pretty salty so go light on the salt when seasoning. Add some fresh thyme a bay leaf and simmer another 20 minutes. Plus du vin(more wine).

Discard the bay leaf and thyme sprig and ladle soup into deep soup bowls. Lay a slice of the baguette atop the soup and cover with grated gruyere. Broil in oven until the cheese melts down the side of the bowl. Garnish with the green onions and serve. Viola!

Your dinner guests will agree, "compliments au chef"~~~

Friday, August 2, 2013

Irish Gumbo

With the exception of the full Irish breakfast, the Irish have been accused of having no flavor in their food. An Irishman told me that on his spice rack are two bottles, salt and pepper. Boil some meat, throw in a few carrots, celery, potatoes, a couple pints of Guinness, salt, pepper, more potatoes, and simmer a couple hours. It's served in every pub in Ireland~Guinness Stew.

Follow me lads into Woody's travlin' test kitchen. Lay out all your ingredients and get a mental image of what our mumbo gumbo looks like "outside the bowl".


Let's start with the special ingredient. No, put away the Guinness for later. When you put that beer in just about everything, it's no longer so special. Tune in some zydeco music. Add a little jig to that stew. Bam! Now that's special. We're cookin' with Queen Ida.

Stir together equal parts of oil to flour to make a roux, about a cup. Set aside.

Here we go, the flavor- a teaspoon each.
Paprika
Cayenne
Cumin
Bay or Creole seasoning
White pepper
Red pepper
Salt 
Black pepper- 20 turns on the grinder.
1 Bay leaf
Your choice. Either mortar spices together or roast for 10 minutes in hot oven.

Okay, so a recipe is fun, and helpful, but only a guide. Gumbo typically has okra in it. I prefer either zucchini or that little Peter Pan squash. Use what you have, including that half jar of salsa in your fridge. It's up to you. Put these goodies in during the simmer.

In a big pot get some olive oil hot. Stir in chopped garlic, celery, red bell pepper, and onion. Stir 5 minutes, add andouille sausage, stir 5 more minutes. Your shrimp, already deveined and peeled go in now. Just 2 minutes, stirring, add spices, stirring, add V8. Enough V8 to cover the"stew" in the pot. Simmer, covered, 1 hour.

In the mean time, make mashed potatoes. 

Lately, I've been roasting beets. Save the greens, wash thoroughly, and boil 10 minutes. Drain, add a tad of butter, pinch of salt, and plate the greens.

By now, the potatoes are ready, the gumbo HOT. Slowly stir in the roux until stew becomes gumbo.

Grab a few bowls, put a scoop of mash in the middle, and ladle gumbo over the mound. Garnish with some parsley, serve.

Now, my friend from Louisiana, Aaron, would insist on a scoop of rice. Wait a minute my friend, this is Irish Gumbo, give the mash a try. On the table, next to the salt and pepper shakers is my other friend from Louisiana, Mr. Tobasco. 

Well done, and SPICEY!
Irish Gumbo