Where is Spring?  That’s what I want to know. I thought Punxsutawney Phil predicted an early spring this year, but boy oh boy, did he get it wrong. As a fully fledged American I grew to believe the famous groundhog’s prediction had teeth.

I always thought it would be great fun to attend the celebrations in Pennsylvania one February.  It would be a milestone on my American journey.  But now I’m not sure if I can trust this sleepy prognosticator.

 

Once I saw my snow capped daffodils I knew the furry weather forecaster was completely in error this year. But then maybe it was his human interpreter who just doesn’t speak proper Groundhog-ese.  We’ll never know.

But I do know my precious daffodils are shivering under their snowy hats. Spring had truly sprung this time last year in Kentucky.

All I want is to enjoy a nice breakfast cup of tea outdoors on the deck once the kids have headed off to school.  It’s a great way to plan the day ahead, but no hope these days without suffering a frozen tookus (a word I learned in New York from my Jewish patients).

 I’m tired of breaking the ice so the birds can have a wee drink.

I know I shouldn’t complain. It’s only a few little inches here in Kentucky and I remember the year I lived in Elmira, New York.  It snowed in June, and this is only March.

And then my poor little ones are worried about the Easter Bunny.  Where will he leave the eggs?  Does he deliver in the snow? I told them he might ask some of Santa’s elves to help him out.  Those guys are well used to snowy deliveries.

The thaw is coming today, and fingers crossed our temperatures will be in the 60′s by the weekend.  The Easter Bunny will be just fine!!  Yay!!

And so, what do we need to call this mixed up season.  Is it Swinter, or Winting, or Sprinter?  I just don’t know, but I sure do hope the real Spring is just around the corner.

Slán agus beannacht leat!

(Goodbye and blessings)

 

Irish American Mom

Fish on Friday is a traditional Catholic “sacrifice” for the Lenten season.  Growing up in Ireland we ate fish every Friday of Lent.  When I moved to Kentucky I was surprised to see how strong the tradition is here. Many churches host a Friday Lenten Fish Fry. Maybe I enjoy our Kentucky Fish Fry so much because it reconnects me with this memorable custom of my childhood.

But let’s face it, there’s little sacrifice involved.  In these days of plenty it is easy to feast on fish.  Salmon, shrimp, or battered cod with chips and mushy peas, are all simply delicious.  I asked myself:  How on God’s good earth did eating fish get interpreted as penance?

As I fished around for information on the internet, I was astonished to learn this whole phenomenon of eating fish may have actually led to the discovery of the New World.  Just amazing!

In his book, “Fish on Friday: Feasting, Fasting, and Discovery of the New World”, Brian Fagan explores this theory.  Here’s how the logic goes.

In the Middle Ages, Europeans typically ate fish on regular days of the week.  Meat was a special-occasion dish.   The Catholic Church may have forbidden meat on Fridays as a way to let people know it was inappropriate to hold celebrations on that day.

I think it is a little ironic that seafood is now often viewed as a special-occasion food, with meat becoming our routine everyday food.  Perhaps if the rule was initiated in this century we would be having Meat on Fridays.

Image Credit

Anyway, back to my tale.  Most forested lands in England were owned by the King, and woe betide anyone found hunting on the King’s land.  But the sea was considered fair game.  Commoners could cast a net into the sea, or drop a hook and freely eat their catch without fear of being hanged.

By the 14th century, the Catholic Church imposed meatless fasting days way beyond just Fridays and Lent, so fish was required to be eaten more than half the days of the year.

This huge demand for fish just kept on growing through the 14th and 15th centuries. Fancy fish delicacies graced the tables of nobles.  Commoners ate fish on holy days.  Peasants enjoyed fish as a means of supplementing their meager diet.  Preserved fish sustained soldiers when they traveled far from home.

In true capitalistic spirit, medieval business men invested in a fishing industry and hired engineers to design new boats and efficient gear.  The European fishing industry just kept on growing.

Image Credit

 

But alas, with over fishing off the European Atlantic coast and the onset of a mini Ice Age fish stocks grew depleted.  Fishermen were forced to follow the fish, eventually tracking cod to their winter waters off the coast of Maine.  Word spread of these shores far to the west, possibly inspiring Christopher Columbus to undertake his voyage.  It is rumored he first heard tell of these new lands on a visit to Ireland.

Believe it or not, it may have been fish not gold nor spices that led to the discovery of America.

And so, I’ll do “penance” at tonight’s Fish Fry, feasting not fasting on my fish in the New World.  I’ll remember it was the lure of fish which probably first brought some of my Irish forefathers to these shores, quite a few years before Christopher Columbus.

 

 

Slán agus beannacht leat!

(Goodbye and blessings)

 

 

Irish American Mom

Today we are going to explore a little cultural nuance between Ireland and America.  When visiting someone’s home in America, if offered a drink, always answer “yes” straight away.  The offer is made at the start of the visit, with no extended repetitions until you finally accept.

The opposite is true in Ireland.  If offered a cup of tea, initially it is important to decline.  The host or hostess will chat a little, then make their tea offer again.  It is at this point the offer should be accepted.

This infamous to and fro over a cup of tea was wonderfully satirized by Mrs. Doyle in the Irish comedy series, Father Ted.  Her endless offers of tea were hilarious, as was her signature line -

“Ah go on! Go on! Go on!

You’ll have a cup of tea.”

 

When I first came to America I had no idea I needed to say “yes” on the first offer.   One day my Irish friend and I visited a co-worker’s home in Elmira, New York.  When we first arrived we were immediately offered something to drink. Being two good Irish girls we declined, in unison.

After about twenty minutes with no further offer of tea or a drink forthcoming, we realized we had missed the boat on that drink.  There was definitely no second offer on the way.  We experienced this lack of recurrent drink offers on a few more occasions before we finally found the courage to say “yes” straight away. 

Americans are very straight forward.  No means “no”, and yes means “yes”.  No feigned hesitancy required for the sake of politeness.

However, I must make a confession.  To this day, even after twenty-something years living in America, I still stutter when I first accept a drink in an American friend’s house.  I still feel rude by being so direct, despite acceptance being proper etiquette here.  My Irish conscience still urges me to decline politely.

 

I suppose my problem is, that I’m just a girl who can’t say “yes”.

 

Slán agus beannacht leat!

(Goodbye and blessings)

Irish American Mom

Bless me Ireland, for I have changed,

Here is my American confession……

 

 

I put no milk in my tea!

 

That’s right! No milk!  No sugar!  Just plain black tea!  I know – pure sacrilege by Irish tea drinking standards – not even the teeniest, tiniest, little drop of milk in my tay.  I arrived on these shores drinking creamy tea, but I have since converted to be a black tea drinker.

And there’s more. I drink those fancy herbal teas, not just good black Irish tea.  Lemon, peppermint, chamomile – I’ve tried them all.  In my defense, not a drop of coffee has passed my lips.  I am still officially a tea drinker, if not a true Irish tay drinker.

 

 Image Credit

I drive a mini-van!

 

No longer is my mode of transport a petrol-sipping mini cooper, but a whopping big minivan with a V6 engine – a gas-guzzler by Irish standards.  I am officially a soccer mom.  There’s no going back once you give birth to triplets.

 

Image Credit

I now eat cupcakes instead of buns!

 

I indulge in America’s fancy, frosted buns and call them cupcakes.   Now every time I finish one I ask myself why on earth I let that sweet, gooey mess pass my lips, but I just can’t help myself.  They look lovely, and as Oscar Wilde so eloquently put it, I can resist everything except temptation.

 

 Image Credit

 I love the Drive-Thru!

 

Drive-thru bank!  Drive-thru pharmacy! Drive-thru fast food!  I’ve used them all, sitting behind my steering wheel, heating my rear with my built-in car seat warmer.  I know it’s a long way from the pony and trap my grandmother used, but with four kids, a girl’s got to do, what a girl’s got to do.

 

I Supersized My Big Mac!

 

Once, just once, before the infamous supersizing fad was halted, I did it.  The drive-thru girl asked:  “Do you want to supersize that?“  And without batting an eyelid, I said yes.

 

Image Credit

The word “awesome” slipped my lips.

 

Just once I confess, but I can’t take it back.  It was my Irish lips that uttered this ever-so-American exclamation.  A school mother offered to take my little one to a birthday party, and before you know it, I had said it:  “That would be awesome!”  My Americanization is fully under way.

 

I watch movies, not films!

 

I don’t go to the cinema anymore, but check on line to see what’s showing at the movies.  And then to crown it all, I eat popcorn by the bucketful at said movies.

Image Credit

 

 For these changes,

And all the other changes

That will inevitably occur,

I am not one bit sorry.

 

 

And for my penance …….

Another twenty years in America!

 

Bless me, Ireland, that’s no penance at all, at all.

 

 

Slán agus beannacht leat!

(Goodbye and blessings)

Irish American Mom