Frugality is a risky business for cooks. "Please don't ask me where these courgettes are from," I thought as we gathered around the table. "I don't want to jeopardize anything." It was springtime, and things were looking up for Comeragh Camp. Two social workers had come to visit, and they were friendly and relaxed and had agreed to stay for lunch. No youth were at the camp right now, so I had made lunch for the staff, plus our guests who were visiting as part of camp's efforts to get … [Read more...] about Irish Amish Cooking: Memories of the Emerald Isle IV
Ireland
Hedges & Highways: Memories of the Emerald Isle III
I saw the BMW too late. I was on an Irish country lane, hemmed in on both sides by towering hedges, driving my little white van too fast for the narrow road, and I had to make a quick decision. I yanked the van's steering wheel to the left and plunged into the hedge. After I came to a stop, van partly in the hedge, the BMW driver, a kindly older gentleman, got out of his car to check on me. "Are you okay?" he asked. I told him I was okay, even if the van wasn't. "I should have been going … [Read more...] about Hedges & Highways: Memories of the Emerald Isle III
Sheep Shed Kitchen- Memories of the Emerald Isle II
I stand in the sheep shed kitchen and stare at the bloody venison roast, trying to figure out how on earth I'm going to make this for tonight's dinner. The roast was a present from Aiden's uncle, and I should make it before the uncle leaves tomorrow. The uncle is an avid hunter, I hear, an expensive sport in Ireland, and I'm betting this venison roast is a real prize, and I don't want to mess this up. Aiden (name changed) was the first Irish boy to become a camper at Comeragh Wilderness Camp, … [Read more...] about Sheep Shed Kitchen- Memories of the Emerald Isle II
How to Catch a Bus—Memories of the Emerald Isle I
Comeragh Wilderness Camp was little more than a muddy meadow with a few trailers in those days, and even catching the bus didn't go like we planned. I was the cook, and Naomi was the secretary, both of us American volunteers in the southern part of Ireland. I had been there only a few months when Naomi asked me if I could drive her to the bus stop, so she could catch the bus to the Dublin airport. She had booked a flight to visit her family. "There's just one catch," Naomi added. "It will … [Read more...] about How to Catch a Bus—Memories of the Emerald Isle I