Listowel Farmers Market & Slow Food Event

Sproated chickpea falafels for the market

vegetable terrine with tofu

Writers are hungry people. On Friday 1st.June Listowel town square was buzzing with excitement and brilliant sunshine. the Farmers Market stalls looked good, brimming with tasty home cooking, vegetarian delights, gorgeous fluffy cakes, local organic cheeses, veggies, herbs and meat. There was beautiful fresh fish and periwinkles - complete with pin authentic Spanish paella bubbling away in a huge flat pan, pancakes and delicious old fashioned meat pies.

The Listowel Ladies looked the part with creative attire,wearing layers of textured fabrics and pretty summer colours which caught the light and the celebratory occasion.

Lots of smiles and greetings and meetings; chatter and banter that would have made John B keanes heart sing, this festival that honoured him, and His town alive with the magic of the pen.

The participants coming from the workshops and talks were full of inspiration, and they wandered up to us looking for a tasty nibble to relax with on a warm bench in the sun. Food from the heart and food for the soul.

On  the following Sunday The Slow Food event caused a stir in The Listowel Arms Hotel.

A fantastic banquet was laid out with the creativity that only good cooks can achieve. The Local produce helped and there was a good community spirit as well as the pure joy of eating well presented, well cooked food - in an elegant setting - Slowly.

 Kate Carmody and I represented the artisan food producers, in the lovely breakfast room of the hotel watching the rain and the wild river rushing by. However when the sun popped out so did I and  with the help of a few customers I relocated outside - happy giving tasters, talking about the recipes in The Phoenix Cookbook "A Culinary Adventure , simply enjoying delicious slow food and the" infectious party atmosphere of the warm June afternoon at the 41st anniversary of Listowel Writers Week.

Kerry radio and live filming added greatly to the excitement and we can all look forward to the fun of The Listowel Food Fair in November with the prestigious Irish Cookbook of the year award and the tasty culinary events which Listowel people seem to coordinate so well.

Go Kerry you Hot Hot Thing

Even as I parked at Tralee's North Campus for the Gokerry web site launch  last Friday, the car temperature gage was reading a roasting 27celsius.
Sunglasses in place, summery frock nicely flapping, I joined the crowd hovering on the steps of the building. I clutched my Cookbook, like a shield or a tag - who did I know - everyone was mostly unregognizable of course because they like me were all sun kissed and sun dressed. After a brief " Go St. Tropez" blink through the sparkling haze of undiluted sunshine, there we all were and the "Hi's" and "how are you's" and the friendly introductions began.

Inside things were hotting up +30c someone said as we circulated, talking about, dare I say it: The Weather. Mingling for me was made easier due to the fact we had kindly been provided with little colourful merengues, tasty sandwidges and - yum yum - dark chocolate coated eclairs filled with fresh cream. Now, if you were stood next to one of those trays, you may have noticed me - a tall red head on a mission and that mission was to save those sweet baby delights from melting away on the plate. "Delicious" as I mingled and mumphed. I have a large mouth and I found - yes they fitted all in one go, not a dribble of chocolate in sight or a smidgeon of cream on the upper lip. "Blood sugar low ladies? Do try these" and the mock surprise as I encountered another handy plateful " Oh scrumptious, have you tasted them?"
The speeches were made and we clapped and sipped water whilst ferociously fanning ourselves. Glancing out of the door I felt every entusiastic word uttered about the wonders of the kerry product was true, yes this is the most beautiful county and we are all extremely privaliged to live and work here.
Heartfelt thanks to those who contributed to the day and to the trojan work spent on the Gokerry web site.
And whoever made those cute little eclairs......

On my way From St.Albans to the IOW I changed trains for Portsmouth at Three Bridges. Not very far from the heart of London - we had only just passed through St. Pancreas with its gleaming corn blue iron work and red bricked state of the art cellar bars and eateries. In contrast Three Bridges was chilly, old fashioned and an East wind picked at my flimsy May garb. Shivering forlornly I needed a hot tea in a warm spot. " In there" said the man in florescent yellow, pointing to a small wooden shack with a hatch raised on one side to reveal a small very basic cafe. I shivered " Sit inside" said the lady. I pushed open a stiff door and was met with the ultimately comforting food scent - could it be - "Hot Cross Buns" The Cinnamon sent my taste buds a-dripping, " a tea and a toasted bun please" "No madame they can't be toasted, they are already buttered and any way the currents don't toast well". OK I thought, surprised by this culinary rule in a cafe not much bigger than a garden shed, serving HCB's in May. She handed me my buttered bun wrapped in cling film and I sat on a stool at a narrow Formica bar and peeled off the plastic. The Bun was a gleaming golden brown with a beautiful white cross, very fresh and soft, yet not doughy. So far impressed I took a bite and there it was: that OMG food moment "Wow! do you always have them?" survival instincts kicking in, thinking of future journeys, stocking up, how many sit ups - as i reached for another - "yes" she said, nonchalently, in distinctively buttery tones, gently flipping eggs for a customer waiting at the hatch. " A local baker brings them in every morning" and, adding softly, glancing my way with perhaps a little compassion "all through the year". I sipped my tea served in a utility style ceramic mug and I felt like a little girl who was out for a treat with a doting Aunt. Dreamily I remembered my connection, I gathered my case and manoeuvred the awkward door. "Thank you" I called "it was lovely" and it really was.

many years later-Pierre and I share our first grandchild

Fusion Food from The Phoenix - inspired by world cooking.

Tasty desserts on my counter on a sunny May morning

Food for baby

I had been living on a health farm in Fribourg Switzerland when i thought I could be pregnant.
At the time my partner and I were completing some building work which he had been commissioned to do. I was strong, fearless and of course very young, at 19 I felt worldly, womanly and all knowing; more so than I do now if truth were known.
A part of the house was used by an esoteric group . They followed what was probably one of the first movements in 'Positive Thinking'. Eddie, ancient in my eyes, was a wiry, dark bearded mountain gnome of a man, [I am quite tall], and vociferous in his positivity.
Using mirrors to reflect his image, he would pace around the wood built house shouting 'Ich bin - I am' over and over again.
Eddies desire for positivity shook the house to its shallow foundations.
My pregnancy test showed negative. I put my thickening waist down to increased muscles caused by pushing wheel barrows of sand up the hillside and my enormous appetite due to the expenditure of energy using the same wheelbarrow, the odd tantrum and tears to the fact I lived with deranged people and as my previously buoyant breasts tingled in a world all of their own and grew, inevitably  succumbing to the earths pull; I merely felt older and that it was now about time to don a bra.
We decided to get married and so i registered in Zurich and was given three months on my tourist visa, plenty of time to organise a wedding. I scoured the second hand stores and found a pair of brick red brocade curtains which our friend, Joe, the tailor stitched into a queenly medieval gown.
meanwhile back at the farm our work continued.  There was already an abundant supply of salads and herbs all growing in hot beds and sheltered areas in the garden and I munched my way though huge bowls of greenery every day. Breakfast was muesli brimming with fresh fruit. My mid morning snack was fusion food; a lovely lentil dhal topped with real Parmesan and tons of black pepper, lunch great steaming plates of whole meal rice or millet slathered in tahini and tamari.
I kept little heaps of dried fruit and nuts in my pockets, I grazed on raw carrots and baby fennel freshly pulled and washed in the nearby lake.
i became preoccupied with hunting and gathering, I found a herd of goats on the mountain side and was given permission to milk them by the curious  farmers who laughed and told Pierre if I could even catch them let alone milk them i was welcome. Ravenously inspired, of course I could and they were surprisingly docile once tethered. I made yogurt, kefir to drink and a soft cheese which I hung in a muslin sack on an upturned stool and then rolled in fresh chives and cracked pepper. This delicacy was devoured with great chunks of bread with the olive oil oozing down my chin as i dabbed and smacked my lips hungrily.
We returned to the villa in Zurich a few days before our big date. All our friends began baking and cooking for the party. Pierre organised his old  band of gypsy musicians for the day and we were all set.
On the eve before the wedding my girlfriends asked me if I was really sure I was not pregnant and we  marched down to the pharmacy for a new test which of course - was positive.

The wedding day was sparkling with June warmth, happily my dress was only a little tight around the bust  and so we stuffed a huge red rose, deep into the  bulging cleavage.  The city hall was splendidly stately, as I was, in my flowing vintage robe. It was a beautiful ceremony, the German precisely translated with such feeling; the moment I will always remember is the awe in the registrars eyes as I bent over to sign my vows and my breasts forced the rose to pop out and bounce, blood red, over the solemn desk.
We all screamed with laughter as we left the cool, sombre building. Outside bright shards of warmth reflected from the Lake catching the effervescent bubbles from our champagne and I felt the magic and joy that all this time, inside of me, I had been feeding my very own newly formed baby. It all made sense and on top of everything, I was starving.