Gunternation

We were very happy when Sheridans Cheesemongers starting bringing a stall to our local market in St. Anne’s. We chatted to the monger frequently enough to learn his name, and then one day a new guy starting coming whom I call Tim, but is possibly named Tom, or even Sebastian. “Tim” is always handy with the samples and suggestions. One day he gave me a taste and asked what I thought. The cheese was little crumbly and bold flavored, but in the moment my mind emptied of all cheese varietals save one. “Is it cheddar?” I said, and as I spoke those words I felt any food cred fall away, and saw a small shadow darken Tim’s eyes. He was a gentlemonger of course, and kindly told me non-cheddar cheese’s name, but I can’t remember exactly what happened after that. I think I just bought some Haloumi and slinked away before I started declaring all the cheeses “Swiss” (which I probably did anyway. I can never say Emmental).

Before you go all Wisconsin on me, I know cheddar is a perfectly fine cheese with varying provenances and pedigrees, it’s just not the only cheese.

In October, Bill and I spent four Wednesday evenings nestled among fellow cheese lovers in Dax Cafe Bar, participating in a class presented by Elisabeth Ryan from Sheridans. Each week we learned about the different kinds of cheeses, and the factors that influence each cheese’s flavor. I had never realized that hard cheese is made in the summer when milk is more plentiful, and soft cheeses are from winter milk. Also, there is no such thing as one “room temperature” and you shouldn’t let your cheese sweat. And the “flavor crystals” Bill and I used to comment on are a real and desirable thing.

Most importantly, we ate cheese. We sampled some Big Hit cheeses from a variety of regions, including the luscious Epoisses from France, seductive Manchego from Spain, and bold Stilton from England, but we spent a lot of time talking about Irish Cheeses. If you haven’t already heard, Ireland is truly embracing its inner curds and whey.

Lovely

One evening Kevin Sheridan led us through a tasting of Irish Cheeses that had recently won medals at the Irish Cheese Awards. Kevin explained that Ireland’s cattle are predominately grass fed which differentiates Irish milk from other European countries. Ireland’s unique milk creates spectacular cheeses, because, as Kevin said, Cheese is Grass. Ireland also produces lots of goat’s milk cheese and several sheep’s milk varieties as well. Sheep’s milk cheese are more rare because sheep are low milk producers, but the fat content in the milk creates very creamy cheese.  Helen Finnegan’s Knockdrinna Meadow that won Gold Medal in the Cheese awards is just that, a creamy bite of meadow. Bill and I are also fans of Crozier Blue, which won the Sheep Silver. We like that it’s richer than the cow’s milk varieties. [I'm a huge fan of blue cheese though, from crumbly to oozing, from blushing blue to blue in the face. And how cool is it that the bacteria for Cabrales come from the walls of the cheese cave rather than being injected. Another tip from cheese class!]

Mmmm...grass.

Ireland’s fantastic milk and perfect cheesemaking climate–”Ireland is one big cheese cave” Kevin said–allow Irish cheesemakers to borrow traditional cheesemaking methods, but make cheese that uniquely Ireland’s own. On our third evening of cheese class, David Tiernan of Glebe Brethan, spoke to us of his journey from dairy farmer to dairy farmer who makes award winning Gruyere-type cheese. Making cheese allows David to benefit more directly from the care he puts into producing his milk, and he enjoys seeing the end consumer. He says he loves the moment when a customer has picked up a bite and walked away, only to stop and turn around when the taste comes through. He does have to frequently explain that it is not cheddar. As a matter of fact, a slogan for Glebe Brethan could be, “It’s not effing cheddar.”

David has a farmer’s practicality and says to pay attention to the traditions that come before you. If cheeses makers in France say to mature the cheese on spruce planks cut when the moon is waxing, there is probably a pretty good reason to do that, because they’ve been doing it for centuries.

David shared that maturing cheese is the real skill in cheese making. David and Elisabeth told us of magical cheese tasters that can predict the exact time that a cheese will reach perfection. One element of our tastings was trying two maturity levels of a few cheeses, including Glebe Brethan, to contrast the flavors.

Our last evening of cheese class was about wine and cheese pairings, and the basic message was eat cheese and drink wine that you like. When putting together a cheese plate, it is unlikely one wine will work wonders with each cheese, so the goal is to choose a wine that can be a graceful accompaniment. But some wine and cheese combos create amazing new flavors, like a pairing we tried of Cratloe Hill Sheep cheese with Il Casolare Rosso.

If there is any doubt that we are in the Age of Irish Cheeses, check out the new book by Glynn Anderson and John McLaughlin, Farmhouse Cheeses of Ireland – A Celebration.  This beautiful book will tell you everything you need to know about Farmhouse cheese in Ireland. I met Glynn’s wife Lucy at the Savour Kilkenny Food Market, and she invited me to a book launch reception with Feargal Quinn, a senator and the founder of SuperQuinn.  At the reception I chatted with Eugene Carr, who had started working with cheese makers in the 1980s to provide marketing support and help build up a retail presence. He said he would take 15 cheeses to a meeting and folks would say, So, tell me about all these cheddars. (They weren’t all cheddar!)

Eugene told me that SuperQuinn’s  early interest in Irish Cheese was important to the developing industry. So, it was fitting that Feargal Quinn spoke, and “christened the baby,” as they said at the launch. In his talk, Feargal said this book would influence future food traditions of Ireland. A wonderful part of food culture in Ireland is that any food producer is no more than a half day’s drive away. Bill and I have met several producers like the lovely Anna Laveque of Triskel cheese, and when on the Beara Pennensula, we called out to the home of Milleen’s and chatted with Norman Steele. He told us the amazing story of how their cheese grew in popularity on the power of its flavor alone (and possibly the power of its aroma!). I loved the part where they started getting telegrams with orders, as they didn’t have a phone. As Norman pointed out, the postman had to ride his bike up a very large hill. I can’t imagine a more lovely place to live and make cheese.

The view down the Steele's drive

A great part about a book launch for a cheese book is the eating of the cheese at the reception. Even better we were given takeaway boxes to take home samples, so I took some Triskel pyramid, a lovely Loire-valley style goats cheese. Back at work that afternoon, I wanted to share the Triskel love, so I served up a good slather on some brown bread and offered it to a coworker. He took a bite, and was viscerally reminded that he doesn’t happen to like goats cheese. I saw him heading to the bin with the uneaten portion and I shrieked, Don’t throw it away! Don’t throw it away! So he returned the remaining bit to me, and I ate it, and it was glorious.

When I’m peckish a little bite of nice cheese usually sorts me out.

November 9, 2011 3:50 pm via BrizzlyReplyRetweetFavorite

@tulanian

Bill Gunter

I loved field trips in school. The excitement of it all–boarding the bus, riding into Houston to visit the zoo or the Natural Science Museum (they had shrunken heads!). Having money for snacks and souvenirs. Extra opportunities to be with my friends and study the behavior of boys in a new environment. In his hometown of Huntsville, Alabama, Bill took many field trips to the NASA Space Center, which was great because he loved the huge rocket, the lunar landing video game (before there were video game arcades), and the freeze dried ice cream.

Now we are grown up and we take field trips to restaurants and bakeries. In Drogheda. And we love it.

Last Saturday, we joined a crew of food bloggers to meet Jeni and Reuven, owners of Eastern Seaboard  to learn about their successful restaurant as well as their two new ventures, The Brown Hound Bakery and Mo’s To Go.

We assembled at the Brown Hound where Jeni and Reuven invited us into their delightful bakery.  Jeni and Reuven worked with New York baker Craig Thompson to develop the recipes and train the staff at Brown Hound.  Many of the offerings are inspired by Thompson’s grandmother’s recipes, and I have to say, Thompson must have the most elegant grandmother ever.

I can’t imagine entering the Brown Hound without expressing a few Wows. A mix of art gallery and Victorian parlor, the interior positively gleams with glass and chrome illuminating piles of scones,  towers of cookies, and cakes and pies topped with exquisite meringue and icing.  The cool metals are warmed by painted cake stands and platters and the most comforting of all sights–baskets of beautiful bread. Surfaces not covered by enticing edibles feature glassware by artist John Derian, or bottles of olive oil (which are art in themselves).

Jeni and Reuven were so kind to gift us each with a box of bakery samples, tied with a Brown Hound ribbon. I’ve heard that these treats did not last long for anyone. There’s a particular buzz about the chocolate banana bread and I have to join in that chorus. It’s moist, perfectly sweet, with huge chunks of delicious chocolate. We also bought a brown butter cake with lemon curd–beautiful to gaze upon, great texture, nicely tart lemon curd. I like that many of the cakes come in several sizes, including cupcake. We picked up a bottle of that gorgeous olive oil as well.

Next door to Brown Hound is Mo’s To Go, a takeaway featuring some choices from Eastern Seaboard as well as an item of extreme interest to the Americans in the group–corndogs. Along with hush puppies and fried whitebait, sides of cold spicy noodles and tabbouleh, this is not your average chipper. Jeni told me that Mo’s is named after her mom, who supports her and Reuven in so many ways, including frequently leaving food for them to find when they get home. The idea of food as gift is embodied throughout all three of Reuven and Jeni’s eateries, through attention to ingredients, preparation and presentation.

After gawking over Brown Hound and Mo’s, we settled down for the best part of the evening–dinner. Eastern Seaboard has been open in Drogheda for a few years and has developed a loyal following. I mentioned to a Laytown friend that I was meeting some foodies in Drogheda for dinner. “Oh, are you going to Eastern Seaboard?” he guessed,  “You’ll love it.” Our seating was a 6:00 and the restaurant was already busy. Our end of the table decided to order several starters to share. An extremely good idea as we got to taste tons of things, including perfect calamari, a luscious pig’s cheek terrine with celeriac slaw, crab cakes, garlicky crab claws, and a butcher’s board featuring pork rillettes and an amazing black pudding, chorizo and pistachio ballotine.

For mains I had the sea bream special with lemon salt and pea shoots. I chose Asian slaw and sweet potato wedges for sides. The fish was delish, especially the skin, and my sides were two great tastes that taste great together. The vinegary sesame flavor of the slaw was particularly refreshing. Bill’s rabbit was outstanding, tender and luscious with sides of perfect spinach and balsamic-laced lentils. The rabbit loin was char-grilled and topped with a smoked bacon and rabbit “ragù.” The smokiness from both the grilling and bacon perfectly complemented the tender rabbit.

For dessert a I had the coffee jelly with ice cream, on recommendation from Clare of An American in Ireland. Clare grew up eating coffee jelly (aka jello) in Japan and was thrilled when she found that Reuven, also Japanese, had included it on Eastern Seaboard’s menu. I absolutely loved this light, flavorful dessert, and am a bit obsessed with it at the mo. Bill’s Little Pots of Warm Chocolate Heaven were exactly what it says on the tin, and included chocolate pop rocks, if you can believe it.

Reuven told us they opened Eastern Seaboard to provide a casual dining option. “Casual Dining” has a black mark in the US for its association with the proliferation of chain restaurants, but the idea that dinner should not require high heels or a bank loan is a good one, and welcome in Ireland. I love the food first attitude at Eastern Seaboard.  But don’t think they don’t let the atmosphere suffer! (I swear their smoking lounge is going to encourage more people to start smoking. You have to see it.) It’s so obvious that these guys care, and I’m thrilled to have spent an evening in their world.

Many thanks to Clare for organizing, and to all the other food bloggers for your stellar company:

Caryna’s Cakes

Daily Spud

Smorgasblog

Kuchennie

Gracie Bakes

Dinner du Jour

Katz Miaow

It is truly fun to dine with the food obsessed!

Um, Can I bum a cig? Don’t want to leave this smoking lounge!

To celebrate the day the whole world is Irish, here are some images of Dublin and environs from the turn of the 20th Century, posted recently on Flickr by The Library of Congress.

Also, Flickrers are posting fun Then & Now shots.

According to today’s Irish Times the inventor of the spice burger, Walsh Family Foods, has gone out of business. I had no idea the spice burger was strictly an Irish thing. They may have been a tradition for 50 years, but from my one experience with them I think they’re really awful. The one pictured in the article looks much better than the one I had.

In honor of their 150 anniversary The Irish Times has made available on their website digital versions of certain past editions. Sharon and I spent some time Saturday reading a personal account of the 1916 Easter Rising and it’s fascinating. Sharon walks to work through many of the neighborhoods mentioned in the article, and it’s thrilling to recognize the streets and areas. Also in the archive are articles on the assassination of President Lincoln (page three news in Ireland), the 1906 San Francisco earthquake (page 9) and the first Transatlantic flight (which landed in County Galway near Clifden–we visited the monument to the landing when we were there last year).

A few weeks ago Bill told me he had made a reservation for our anniversary dinner, and that it was going to be a surprise. On the evening we hopped in a taxi and Bill asked the driver to take us to Stephen’s Green. A large proportion of Dublin restaurants are concentrated around the green, so I still had no idea of our destination. After hopping out at the corner of the green we wandered about (Bill wasn’t quite sure of the restaurant’s location) but we finally wound up at the Fitzwilliam Hotel which houses Thornton’s. Thornton’s is a one Michelin star restaurant owned by Chef Kevin Thornton and his wife, Muriel.

Bill had reserved the chef’s table, which meant we would have a window into the kitchen and would be served each course by the head chef. Thornton’s prefers to seat parties of four at the chef’s table because it is away from the other tables and misses some of the restaurant buzz. We really wanted to watch the kitchen, so they made an exception. The table was decorated with a stunning bouquet of red long-stemmed roses. We chose the eight-course Chef’s choice menu and settled in for a lovely evening. The chef’s table is near the bar, which was deserted on this Tuesday evening, so we treated it as our own private sitting area enjoying our pre-dinner Champagne.

Thornton is experimental, without losing sight of the fact that food is ultimately to be eaten. We had saffron infused mist (from dry ice) and tuna in a bowl of smoke, but it wasn’t all experiential. We definitely ate.

Here is our menu:

Ballotin of Guinea Fowl with Celeriac
Gazpacho of Cucumber Jelly, Mussels and Consomme
Roast King Scallop with Truffle Mousse
‘Mi-cuit’ of Foie Gras rolled in new season truffle
Fillet of Red Mullet, Shellfish Consomme
Smoked Yellow Fun Tuna, Prawns wrapped in Tuna and Beluga Caviar
Nettle and Thyme Sorbet
Wicklow Venison with Juniper Sauce
Cashel Blue Cheese
Molten Valrhona Chocolate
Petit-fours and Cappuccino

The scallop was our favorite course from a pure taste experience. It was simply grilled and perfectly matched, but not overpowered by the truffle mousse. I could have eaten about fifteen. The truffle course was also great. It included a healthy portion of marinated and cured foie gras rolled in black truffle. The slices of black truffle were a great treat. The truffle powder takes three months to make and delivered a jolt of truffle power. This was Bill’s favorite course intellectually and moved the meal to a higher level.

We enjoyed the autumn ingredients in the meal. The Guinea fowl with celeriac and venison were nicely seasonal, but light enough to fit into the overall meal. We enjoyed all the seafood as well. The Nettle and Thyme Sorbet was perfect! The herby sorbet worked great as a palate cleanser.

We moved back to the couch for the cheese and dessert courses. The dessert was a familiar, but perfectly prepared chocolate bombe. After all this, we were served a plate of lovely petit-fours.

We enjoyed the chef’s table. Being separated from the other diners with our own seating area made it feel like we were dining in our own private restaurant. It was fascinating to watch the plates come together in the small and efficient kitchen. Chef Kevin primarily plated the meals, and yelled occasionally. At one point the server asked if we could speak French. We said No. Good, he said. We did hear a few gems like, “I asked for a opera, not a f*cking musical!” (One of the petit-fours was opera cake.)

A memorable and delicious meal. A great start to Year 14.

As mentioned before, Bill and I visited Jerpoint Abbey a few Sundays ago, after our Relaxation Weekend in Kilkenny. Jerpoint is one of best preserved abbeys in Ireland, having been maintained by the Kilkenny Archaeological Society since the mid 19th century and under protection as a national monument since 1880.

This Cisterian Abbey was initially constructed in 1180 with a cruciform church layout with nave, chancel and transepts. The remaining structures dating from the 13-15th Centuries include the Nave, North Aisle, Cloister Garth (courtyard) and Calefactory, the only heated room at the Abbey. The Cisterians were an austere offshoot of the Benedictines. They lived on veggies and beer, and could visit the Calefactory only a few times throughout the day for a total of an hour.

The outstanding feature of Jerpoint Abbey is the carvings throughout, many the work of a famous stone sculptor family from the 15 and 16th Century, the O’Tunneys. Jerpoint Abbey was surrendered to the Earl of Ormond in 1540 as part of Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries. The total holdings of the Abbey at that time included a castle, several watermills and fisheries, comprising around 14, 500 acres.

Three of the Apostles: Peter with the key, Andrew with the cross, and possibly Luke (we can’t remember, and Luke and Mark share the symbol of the book).

The sin of gluttony.

A monkey.

Even though it kept trying to rain on us, we found Jerpoint Abbey fascinating and beautiful.

After a few weeks spent close to home, last weekend Bill and I ventured to Kilkenny. We’ve been to Kilkenny before, but didn’t get to explore the area as much as we’d liked because our car broke down. The Mighty Polo is in better form these days (more or less) so we decided to give it another go. We booked a “Relaxing Weekend” package at a hotel across the river from Kilkenny Castle. A deluge of rain was forecast, but our relaxation package included several meals, 30-minute massages, and 4:00 PM check out on Sunday–we didn’t have to leave the hotel if we didn’t want to. And if we did venture out, Kilkenny’s annual arts festival would be worth checking out.

Bill picked me up at my office Friday evening, and we arrived in Kilkenny around 8:30. We had dinner in the hotel at 9:00. As foodies there’s some pressure to choose the exotic, but sometimes you want basic grub, and the hotel restaurant delivered that quite tastily. The highlight was my whimsically served, tumbled basket of Caesar salad. We both had steaks for entrees. The hotel was host to a world music segment of the arts festival, so at certain points during the meal, strains of an Indian tune or Irish trad mixed with the easy listening melodies in the restaurant, creating a soundtrack “like the mind of a crazy person,” as Bill aptly observed. At least the crazy person ate normal food.

Saturday morning we were happy to eat breakfast in the hotel while rain lashed outside and young and old donned slickers in the lobby before venturing out for soggy seeing. We booked our massages for 12:00 and 12:30, and spent the morning watching Olympics. By 1:00 the rain had cleared, and we ate lunch at a nearby cafe. We wandering through some of the art exhibits, bought tickets for an orchestra concert that night, and visited the Black Abbey. The Black Abbey was built in the 13th C, destroyed by Cromwell in the 18th and rebuilt in the 19th. The church is still actively used by the Dominican order and has an impressive stained glass window from 1892 and a beautiful 15th C alabaster carving of the Holy Trinity. I have to say, it’s hard to visit many historical sites in Ireland without acquiring a distaste for Oliver Cromwell. Bill and I have developed a Seinfeldian Newman! response to his very name.

We’d seen the Ulster Orchestra perform before, but not in a 13th century cathedral. St. Canice’s cathedral is a lovely venue, even if the acoustics were not great for the featured violin. The rain had returned by the end of the concert, and we took refuge in an Indian restaurant down the street where we had a great dinner.

Kilkenny has a dual life as tourist-friendly, medieval city by day, and noisy, stag and hen party haven by night. The nightclubs were coming alive as we walked back to the hotel around 11:30, but the partying had been going on long enough that guys were already puking in the streets. Nice.

Sunday morning was cloudy, but not as rainy. After breakfast we walked the grounds of Kilkenny Castle for about an hour. We were highly entertained by a Little Grebe diving in a pond to find food for its chick. The air was autumnal, which of course freaked us out, as it was mid-August.

We had lunch at the hotel, and lounged in our room to wait out another band of rain. We left around 3:00, stopping by the shop at Jerpoint Glass. Luckily we were able to bypass the guard dog, and bought some candlesticks from the Seconds room. We proceeded on to Jerpoint Abbey. The lingering rain didn’t discourage our exploration of the Abbey, and it was the highlight of our weekend. The Abbey is so cool, that it deserves its own post.

“Nollaig Shona Duit” is Happy Christmas in Irish, pronounced “null-ig hun-a dit” or “NO-Lihg HO-nuh ghwich” or “Nullug Shunna it” (my cursory web research did not find consensus). Nollaig, the word for Christmas, is derived from the Latin natalicia which means birthday. Shona is happy and Duit is a singular “prepositional pronoun” meaning “to you.” If you’re addressing more than one person, the appropriate greeting is “Nollaig Shona Daoibh” (NO-Lihg HO-nuh JEEV). Thankfully, celebrating Christmas in Ireland is easier than saying it.

Christmas dawned bright and sunny in Dublin, a rare occurrence according to the Dubs. Bill and I attended a church service at 10:30 hosted by Trinity’s Lucan congregation. Emmanuel, God with Us. I really think we should sing Christmas hymns all year round.

After returning home we had some mince pies with brandy butter and a cuppa tea. We then opened presents. Bill gave me books by two Irish authors: a collection of short stories by John MacKenna and Anne Enright’s Booker-prize-winner, The Gathering. I gave Bill Roddy Doyle’s Barrytown Trilogy and The Irish Book of Lists–now Bill will be full of fascinating factoids at dinner parties. Bill gave me a beautiful pendant made with pressed flowers and I added a grey wool jumper (sweater) and fleece hoodie to Bill’s wardrobe. I had also wrapped an ornament I bought to commemorate our first Christmas in Ireland.

We ate left-over seafood chowder for lunch. Bill read that seafood is traditionally eaten on Christmas Eve (because it is a no-meat day for Catholic observers), so he made a delicious chowder that was even better the next day. I then took a Christmas nap while Bill baked the cornbread dressing and made deviled eggs.

We headed to the Dunne’s around 3:30. Margaret had set a gorgeous table. My picture turned out blurry, but I’m going to post it anyway. In addition to Kevin, Margaret and their children Nora and Rory, we shared Christmas with another family from Trinity: Nigel, Mary and their son Mark. While Margaret and Kevin worked like mad in the kitchen, we relaxed with mulled wine.
We began our meal with a champagne toast and popped our Christmas crackers. For starter we had baked portabello mushrooms with tomato and rashers. We brought out the deviled eggs also. They were well received, although folks were hesitant to try the ones Bill had sprinkled with ancho chili powder. After starters the food started coming and did not stop. Christmas dinner in Ireland shares many components with Thanksgiving: turkey, ham, stuffing, gravy, mash (mashed potatoes), baked sweet potatoes (and parsnips–not a Sharon fave), and Brussels sprouts. In addition we had veg stir-fry, mange tout (snow peas), roast potatoes, mashed swede (rutabaga), black eyed peas, spinach and asparagus. Our cornbread dressing is similar to stuffing, but I was happy to have it. We had several choices for dessert also: sherry trifle, Christmas pudding, pears poached in the mulled wine, ice cream and chocolates.

Since physical activity was unthinkable after such a meal, we chose instead to exercise our minds and played an electronic trivia game called Buzz. After keeping the lead for most of the game, Bill and I were bested in the end by 9-year-old, master of general knowledge, Rory. The rest of the evening we lounged, conversed, stared at the fire (burning coal and a bit of turf) and pet doggies. At 11:30 Bill and I decided we should return home, bearing turkey and ham. (The turkey was the largest I’d seen, 14 kilos or so, and the ham was cured but not smoked. All tasty with leftover dressing.) At midnight we made Christmas calls to the families, and then hit the sack.

I hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas!

Apparently in Ireland Santa gets to enjoy mince pies and Guinness. Perhaps he should make Ireland his last stop.