BREAKIN' BREAD WITH MY MAMA

My love for food began with my parents. I got my love for eating from my father (especially spicy food!) but I got my passion for cooking from my mother. When I was a young teenager and just starting to cook, I was clumsily chopping up garlic in the kitchen. Mom walked in, smiling..."Ooh! The smell of garlic!" She took my hands into her own and breathed in the smell as if my hands were full of lilacs. That's where it begins.






This blog is dedicated to my mother, a sweet and generous woman. This August, we went on a trip to Ireland and southern France. She had planned originally to go with my father, but he died a year ago. So I stepped in. Every Guiness I had was for him.


Ireland

In Cork, the blackberries poured over every wall.

Moss leaked out of every crevice.




At Dan Lowry's, a tiny little pub, quiet and cozy, we had traditional Irish soul food: Shepherd's Pie with peas, peppered mackerel with famous Irish oat bread. Beamish Stout is made in Cork and is creamy goodness. Here I learned that stout and blackcurrant cordial have a secret love for each other.






The hot toddies were well appreciated at Tis Coili in Galway.





Southern France

After a week of rain, wind and beer, we rambled over to the land of heat, sun and wine. Here is our first meal in Montpelier... it was a table d'hote for only 13 euros. Beef filet and magret de canard. Both were served with traditional southern french-style vegetables... baked potatoes topped with creme fraiche and various purees of root vegetables, each flavoured differently. The food was so, so good.







Antigone Market... Enormous paella pans, pick-up trucks full of live fish, giant loaves of bread... SO.MUCH.CHEESE. *le sigh*














The beach... *le sigh x 2* I had never swam in warm saltwater. NEVER.





Best bloody mojitos I've ever had.


This song by Fred Wesley and the JBs
sums up my trip with my Mama.