Happy St. Patrick's Day!
We've been celebrating for a day now--we had corned beef, cabbage, carrots, and potatoes, plus a lovely brown bread from
Family Fun magazine. We'll watch the NYC parade on tv here in about 30 minutes (we're watching now--DS is enthralled and keeps asking when he can see some bagpipes--I can't wait to take the kiddos to this--I just love parades--and there are lots of bagpipes. DD is in the kitchen eating brown bread with honey). And later this week, we're having friends over to decorate shamrock (and Easter egg) cookies.
But why?
We're not Irish--in fact, in addition to Chinese, we're English, French, German, and, depending which person in the family you ask, also Welsh and Scottish. Not Irish. Now, I know that genetically there is very little difference between all the Brits--there was an article recently about a DNA study--but there is culturally and historically a difference so we'll go with that.
We're not Catholic, though DP was raised Catholic (her parents wanted her to belong to the dominant religion in the country when they immigrated from Thailand--and had been members of a minority Chinese group there--and to go to Catholic school. Very Buddhist of them, I'd say, believing all religions to be on the same path). And my maternal grandmother was kicked out of the Catholic Church--at least locally, I'm not sure the Pope was involved--for divorcing and remarrying, despite the fact that apparently the man beat her and had to be run out of town by her brother (or something like that). So, Saint Patrick means little to us in a religious sense.
Even when I was growing up, the day meant little more than wearing green so you wouldn't get pinched, a tradition that must have been regional because few people up here know about it. One kid I went to school with--Derry--would wear green socks, get pinched because no one saw them, and pinch you back because he was wearing green. I thought that was clever, but I always wore my green loud and clear. There was no corned beef, no soda bread, and I didn't remember the local parade until my parents reminded me last night. But I'm not sure there were stepdancers or bagpipers.
I understand that it is only recently that the Irish, in Ireland, have started celebrating it in a big way, that it has predominantly been a religious holiday there. This would no doubt be an import from Irish ex-pats, who have been parading and partying in NYC for 247 years! Of course, the "wearing of the green" has a much different meaning in the land of the Troubles. And there is always some political content to the NYC parade, though not as much as there was 15 years ago when I first lived there. I invite Lambeth, whose wife is an Irish Protestant to weigh in on all of this, if he would like.
I started really celebrating when I lived in NYC, a block or so off the St. Patrick's Day parade route. Beginning in the early morning of parade day, you could hear the marching bands and bagpipers warming up in the side streets that fed the route. I must confess to being a lover of bagpipe music--I have a few CDs that I pull out this time of year--so watching them live was always a thrill. And then there were all the little ringlet-crowned girls in those lavish velvet green costumes dancing their up and down steps. This very much confused me at first--it seemed to be a big deal, but I had no idea what they were doing. Well,
Riverdance and
Lord of the Dance have come out since--and I've seen both (though I thought my friends were nuts for wanting to go see Irish folk dancing at Radio City the first time I heard about it)--and I have a better handle on it. DP, who grew up with Irish Catholic girls who took lessons, shutters to see the black shoes and curled hair--for years, she couldn't celebrate St. Patrick's Day with me happily, remembering years of grade school trauma as the only non-Irish, clearly Chinese kid in school. But she introduced me to corned beef and cabbage and Irish soda bread, which her mom made every year, and she likes Celtic music so things are better now. Neither one of us is a big drinker, so that aspect of the holiday doesn't appearl, though we do really like Ben and Jerry's new Black and Tan flavor and might go find a pint of that. Hey, it's a pint, right? I did live near an Irish pub--O'Lunney's, which has since moved out of Times Square but still in the area--and they had all the things a pub needs--blessings on the wall, pictures of County Whatever, Irish-accented bartenders and ownders--just what the Times mentions in its article (though, it wasn't one of the top pubs mentioned). And I liked to go there, NOT on the holiday, and have an Amaretto Sour, or, oddly, lunch because they had an awesome spinach salad and the staff were so nice. In fact, the only time I've gotten really, actually drunk, was at that pub, in grad school, with some ne'erdowell cohorts, who left me there to walk home at 2 a.m. through Times Square. Luckily, I was probably only buzzed and got home fine; but I was hurting in the morning. And should've been more nervous than I was (luckily for Disneyfication it was pretty safe, actually). I didn't go drinking with them again.
So, what's not to like about the Irish and St. Patrick's Day?
(I know, I know, they won't let the LGBT groups march and that should upset me, since public city funds are involved and the city doesn't discriminate, but it's their parade--and I don't want them at Pride--so live and let live. I'm not always politically correct).
And so, in the spirit of the day, two Irish (not UU)
blessings for you, one for each twin . . .
May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.
May love and laughter light your days,
and warm your heart and home.
May good and faithful friends be yours,
wherever you may roam.
May peace and plenty bless your world
with joy that long endures.
May all life's passing seasons
bring the best to you and yours!
-=-=-=-=-
Irish Brown Bread
2 ¼ cups whole wheat flour
2 ¼ cups all purpose flour
1 ½ cups rolled oats
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
2 ½ cups buttermilk
Heat the oven to 400F. Combine everything but the buttermilk in a large owl and stir the ingredients with your hands. Make a well in the mixture and pour in 1 ½ cups of the buttermilk.
Continue mixing with your hands, adding the remaining cup of buttermilk as you combine the ingredients. The resulting dough will be wet and very sticky.
Dust your hands with flour, shape the dough into a ball, and place it on a floured cookie sheet (we used a nonstick baking mat). With a knife, score a deep X in the top of the ball, widening it with the side of the blade as you cut.
Bake the bread until its golden brown, about 50 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let it cool for at least 10 minutes before slicing. Makes a crusty, dense loaf about 7” in diameter.
Family Fun
