You are What You Eat - Part 1

I'm a lifetime oatmeal guy and developed a hankering for Irish porridge oats on our visit to Ireland immediately before the COVID shitshow. 

Flahavan's Irish Porridge Oats are a cherished staple in Ireland, renowned for their creamy texture and wholesome flavor. Milled by the Flahavan family in Kilmacthomas, County Waterford, for over 200 years, these oats are produced using a unique double-steaming process that enhances their natural creaminess and quick cooking time.

My favorite porridge.  Polished-off an entire case last winter.

Microwave Method:

• Ingredients: ½ cup oats, 1 cup cold milk

• Instructions:

  1. Combine oats and liquid in a deep microwave-safe bowl, allowing a couple of inches at the top for expansion.

  2. Microwave on high 3 to 6 minutes (appliance wattage may vary)

  3. Stir-in a fistful of frozen blueberries and let stand for 1 minute before serving.

     
     
      

A Wee Bit O'Blarney

Clonmacnoise, Ireland

The Feast Day of Saint Patrick has taken-on more significance for me since we traveled and visited the Old Sod of my ancestors before COVID.  Unless you are oblivious it is obvious that the Republic of Ireland is most assuredly a bastion of the Roman Catholic tradition of the Christian faith.  And I suppose more than a few visitors are left with the impression that Ireland is - in some official capacity - a Catholic country.  While Catholics significantly outnumber all other faith traditions in Ireland, there is no reference to Catholicism in the Irish Constitution.  Ireland is officially a secular state and tolerates all belief systems.  Of course, on my visit not even once did I spy a Lutheran church.  But I digress.

Getting back to the Feast Day the story of Ireland’s Patron Saint persists and you readers are likely wondering if St. Patrick really did chase the snakes out of Ireland.  Or is that tale just a bunch of blarney?        

According to the tale way back in the fifth century the legendary priest raised his staff and banished the reptiles into the seas surrounding the Emerald Isle.  Save for those in captivity it is true that Ireland has no snakes.  But this current condition has less to do with religious tradition and more to do with geologic history and events dating many millennia ago.  Following the retreat of the last glaciers some 15,000 years ago Ireland was devoid of snakes.  Surrounded by icy waters to this very day snakes cannot swim or find their way there and as a consequence Ireland remains snake-free.         

That’s too bad because if my recreational DNA test is to be believed I am becoming more Irish with every passing year.  And I have a particular fondness for snakes. The bigger the better.   

Like this dandy five foot long Western Fox Snake.  I also like a good saint when I see one and St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish.         

Patrick was born of aristocratic blood in Britain probably around the year 390.  The legend says that he was not particularly religious.  At age 16 he was kidnapped into slavery was forced into life as a sheepherder in Ireland.  It is held that it was during this time that he found God and became a believer.         

As the story goes he began hearing voices and the voices instructed him to flee.  Which he did.  Patrick eventually found his way back to Britain and his family.  Alas, the voices returned commanding him to return to Ireland.  He was ordained a priest, went back to Ireland and spent the balance of a rather difficult life converting the pagan Celts to Christianity.  He died on March 17, 461 and was promptly forgotten.      

Nevertheless, over many years faithful conviction and belief in the story of Patrick grew.  And he grew ever larger after his death than he did in real life.  Hundreds of years after the fact he was honored as Ireland’s patron saint.         

So on March 17th we gather to pay homage to this saint who - ostensibly - banished the snakes from Ireland.  It is said that on this one day of the year everyone is Irish.          

Since I have real Irish blood coursing through my veins I intend to raise a glass of Guinness and toast my ancestors and Saint Patrick.  I will ignore the part about the sketchy British and Western European connection.         

Speaking of Guinness - according to the Guinness people somewhere around 5.5 million pints of Guinness stout are consumed world-wide each and every day.  On St. Patrick’s Day this will grow to 13 million pints.     

Drink responsibly people.         

Sláinte!

Is There Beer In Heaven?

One of the age-old existential of questions of countless generations of our forebears all the way back to the origins of fermented malt beverages has been:

Is there beer in heaven?

I'm here to offer evidence affirming its existence.  Depending-upon your belief traditions. 

The Vikings held firm to the belief that a goat dispensing endless beer awaited them in heaven.

It's true.  The belief anyway.

According to Norse mythology, the Vikings believed in a celestial goat named Heiðrún, who resided in Valhalla, the grand hall of fallen warriors. Heiðrún fed on the leaves of the sacred tree Læraðr, and from her udders flowed an endless supply of mead (a honey-based alcoholic drink), which sustained the warriors who had died in battle.

So, while it wasn't exactly beer, it was a never-ending supply of mead—pretty close! This endless feast and drink were part of the reward for warriors who fought bravely and earned a place in Valhalla.

The national Museum of Denmark describes current knowledge of Viking's pre-Chrisianity belief system as a patchwork quilt of information.  However, the two most most renowned sources on the old religion are the collection of poems on Norse gods and heroes in the Poetic (or Elder) Edda and the retelling of the Nordic myths in the Prose (or Younger) Edda.  The latter was written by Snorri Sturluson around the year 1220 AD.  Both describe Heiðrún, the goat in heaven.

Of note is the fact that is was Viking influence, during their rule over the Emerald Isle, that Christianity was introduced to the pagan Celts.  Which may explain why many of us refer to Guinness Stout as:  Mothers Milk.  But that is a story for another time.

____________________________________________________________________________

*That's what's so cool about the blog.  Come for the occasional politics and opinion; stay for the arcane....

One Whiff

Residents of Ringaskiddy, a small coastal town in County Cork, Ireland, claim that emissions from a local Pfizer pharmaceutical plant, which manufactures Viagra, are having an unexpected effect on the local male population.

The villagers assert that fumes from the factory have been causing spontaneous arousal among men in the area.

“One whiff and you’re stiff,” claimed Debbie O’Grady, a resident quoted by the Sunday Times.

You can learn more about this phenomenon here. 

Meanwhile, follow this blog for more international travel tips.

Not Too Hot. Not Too Cold. Just Right...

For as long as I can remember I've always liked oatmeal.  A single-serve packet of flavored instant oatmeal is a camper's best friend.  Of course there are oatmeal cookies.  And oatmeal bars.  Finally, my favorite baked oatmeal.  But on a daily basis a bowl of steaming oatmeal or porridge.  Before the COVID shit show we vacationed in Ireland and lo and behold I fell in love with the best oatmeal on the planet.  Made from Irish porridge oats.  My oatmeal world was changed forever.

With the weather growing colder and the days shorter I recently restocked the pantry with an order fulfilled by my chosen importer of delicious Irish foodstuffs.  A case of porridge oats and three kinds of jams - gooseberry, black currant and fig.  If you're gonna eat this stuff anyway, I figured it best to stock-up before you-know-who slaps a tariff on these items to protect the critical US gooseberry, black currant and fig preserves sector of the economy. 

Today I rose to a sunny and clear 28F morning and after the coffee was ready I fixed myself a bowl of Irish porridge oats - with locally sourced dried cherries.

Not too hot, not too cold but just right...

Great way to start your day..... 

Guinness

As a proud member of the 10.5% of the US population blessed with Irish blood I would like to raise a toast to the long and distinguished line of McCarty and McNulty ancestors on my mother Grace's side of the family.

And to all of my friends - May your home always be too small to hold all your friends.  

I know mine is.

Slàinte!

A Wee Bit O'Blarney

Kilfenora - Ireland

The Feast Day of Saint Patrick has taken-on more significance for me since we traveled and visited the Old Sod of my ancestors November, 2019.  Unless you are oblivious it is obvious that the Republic of Ireland is most assuredly a bastion of the Roman Catholic tradition of the Christian faith.  And I suppose more than a few visitors are left with the impression that Ireland is - in some official capacity - a Catholic country.  While Catholics significantly outnumber all other faith traditions in Ireland, there is no reference to Catholicism in the Irish Constitution.  Ireland is officially a secular state and tolerates all belief systems.  Of course, on my visit not even once did I spy a Lutheran church.  But I digress.

Getting back to the Feast Day the story of Ireland’s Patron Saint persists and you readers are likely wondering if St. Patrick really did chase the snakes out of Ireland.  Or is that tale just a bunch of blarney?        

According to the tale way back in the fifth century the legendary priest raised his staff and banished the reptiles into the seas surrounding the Emerald Isle.  Save for those in captivity it is true that Ireland has no snakes.  But this current condition has less to do with religious tradition and more to do with geologic history and events dating many millennia ago.  Following the retreat of the last glaciers some 15,000 years ago Ireland was devoid of snakes.  Surrounded by icy waters to this very day snakes cannot swim or find their way there and as a consequence Ireland remains snake-free.         

That’s too bad because if my recreational DNA test is to be believed I am becoming more Irish with every passing year.  And I have a particular fondness for snakes. The bigger the better.   

 Like this dandy five foot long Western Fox Snake.  I also like a good saint when I see one and St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish.         

Patrick was born of aristocratic blood in Britain probably around the year 390.  The legend says that he was not particularly religious.  At age 16 he was kidnapped into slavery was forced into life as a sheepherder in Ireland.  It is held that it was during this time that he found God and became a believer.         

As the story goes he began hearing voices and the voices instructed him to flee.  Which he did.  Patrick eventually found his way back to Britain and his family.  Alas, the voices returned commanding him to return to Ireland.  He was ordained a priest, went back to Ireland and spent the balance of a rather difficult life converting the pagan Celts to Christianity.  He died on March 17, 461 and was promptly forgotten.      

Nevertheless, over many years faithful conviction and belief in the story of Patrick grew.  And he grew ever larger after his death than he did in real life.  Hundreds of years after the fact he was honored as Ireland’s patron saint.         

So on March 17th we gather to pay homage to this saint who - ostensibly - banished the snakes from Ireland.  It is said that on this one day of the year everyone is Irish.          

Since I have real Irish blood coursing through my veins I intend to raise a glass of Guinness and toast my ancestors and Saint Patrick.  I will ignore the part about the sketchy British and Western European connection.         

Speaking of Guinness - according to the Guinness people somewhere around 5.5 million pints of Guinness stout are consumed world-wide each and every day.  On St. Patrick’s Day this will grow to 13 million pints.     

Drink responsibly people.         

Sláinte!

Patron Saint

The Feast Day of Saint Patrick has taken-on more significance for me since we traveled and visited the Old Sod of my ancestors November, 2019. 

Kilfenora - Ireland

Unless you are oblivious it is obvious that the Republic of Ireland is most assuredly a bastion of the Roman Catholic tradition of the Christian faith.  And I suppose more than a few visitors are left with the impression that Ireland is - in some official capacity - a Catholic country.  While Catholics significantly outnumber all other faith traditions in Ireland, there is no reference to Catholicism in the Irish Constitution.  Ireland is officially a secular state and tolerates all belief systems.  Of course, on my visit not even once did I spy a Protestant church.  But I digress. 

Getting back to the Feast Day the story of Ireland’s Patron Saint persists and you readers are likely wondering if St. Patrick really did chase the snakes out of Ireland.  Or is that tale just a bunch of blarney?        

According to the tale way back in the fifth century the legendary priest raised his staff and banished the reptiles into the seas surrounding the Emerald Isle.  Save for those in captivity it is true that Ireland has no snakes.  But this current condition has less to do with religious tradition and more to do with geologic history and events dating many millennia ago.  Following the retreat of the last glaciers some 15,000 years ago Ireland was devoid of snakes.  Surrounded by icy waters to this very day snakes cannot swim or find their way there and as a consequence Ireland remains snake-free.         

That’s too bad because if my recreational DNA test is to be believed I am becoming more Irish with every passing year.  And I have a particular fondness for snakes. The bigger the better.

Like this dandy five foot long Western Fox Snake.  I also like a good saint when I see one and St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish.         

Patrick was born of aristocratic blood in Britain probably around the year 390.  The legend says that he was not particularly religious.  At age 16 he was kidnapped into slavery was forced into life as a sheepherder in Ireland.  It is held that it was during this time that he found God and became a believer.         

As the story goes he began hearing voices and the voices instructed him to flee.  Which he did.  Patrick eventually found his way back to Britain and his family.  Alas, the voices returned commanding him to return to Ireland.  He was ordained a priest, went back to Ireland and spent the balance of a rather difficult life converting the pagan Celts to Christianity.  He died on March 17, 461 and was promptly forgotten.      

Nevertheless, over many years faithful conviction and belief in the story of Patrick grew.  And he grew ever larger after his death than he did in real life.  Hundreds of years after the fact he was honored as Ireland’s patron saint.         

So on March 17th we gather to pay homage to this saint who - ostensibly - banished the snakes from Ireland.  It is said that on this one day of the year everyone is Irish.          

Since I have real Irish blood coursing through my veins I intend to raise a glass of Guinness and toast my ancestors and Saint Patrick.  I will ignore the part about the sketchy British and Western European connection.         

Speaking of Guinness - according to the Guinness people somewhere around 5.5 million pints of Guinness stout are consumed world-wide each and every day.  On St. Patrick’s Day this will grow to 13 million pints.      

Drink responsibly people.         

Sláinte!

A Wee Bit O'Blarney

Did St. Patrick really chase the snakes out of Ireland?  Or is that story just a bunch of blarney?   

According to the tale way back in the fifth century the legendary priest raised his staff and banished the reptiles into the seas surrounding the Emerald Isle.  Save for those in captivity it is true that Ireland has no snakes.  But this current condition has less to do with religious tradition and more to do with geologic history and events dating many millennia ago.  Following the retreat of the last glaciers some 15,000 years ago Ireland was devoid of snakes.  Surrounded by icy waters to this very day snakes cannot swim or find their way there and as a consequence Ireland remains snake-free.    

That’s too bad because if my recreational DNA test is to be believed I am becoming more Irish with every passing year.  And I have a particular fondness for snakes. The bigger the better.   

Like this dandy five foot long Western Fox Snake.  I also like a good saint when I see one and St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish.    

Patrick was born of aristocratic blood in Britain probably around the year 390.  The legend says that he was not particularly religious.  At age 16 he was kidnapped into slavery was forced into life as a sheepherder in Ireland.  It is held that it was during this time that he found God and became a believer.    

As the story goes he began hearing voices and the voices instructed him to flee.  Which he did.  Patrick eventually found his way back to Britain and his family.  Alas, the voices returned commanding him to return to Ireland.  He was ordained a priest, went back to Ireland and spent the balance of a rather difficult life converting the pagan Celts to Christianity.  He died on March 17, 461 and was promptly forgotten.     

Nevertheless, over many years faithful conviction and belief in the story of Patrick grew.  And he grew ever larger after his death than he did in real life.  Hundreds of years after the fact he was honored as Ireland’s patron saint.    

So on March 17th we gather to pay homage to this saint who - ostensibly - banished the snakes from Ireland.  It is said that on this one day of the year everyone is Irish.   

Since I have real Irish blood coursing through my veins I intend to raise a glass of Guinness and toast my ancestors and Saint Patrick.  I will ignore the part about the sketchy British and Western European connection.    

Speaking of Guinness - according to the Guinness people somewhere around 5.5 million pints of Guinness stout are consumed world-wide each and every day.  On St. Patrick’s Day this will grow to 13 million pints. 

Drink responsibly people.  

Sláinte!

 

Tough Luck Leprechaun

 

It's a special week for the Irish.

And a Tall Irish Tale advances the notion that if you are lucky enough to find a leprechaun and capture him you can exchange his freedom for his treasure.  

Some say that leprechauns are usually able to grant the person three wishes.

Life on the Porch

This is a Pale Lager direct from the motherland.  It has sweet malt aromas with some floral hop scents. It is a medium bodied brew that goes well with porch-setting at the close of the work day. 

Since it’s bottled in metric it’s 11.2 FL OZ

Guinness Brewing, St. James Gate, Dublin 

 4.5% ABV

Pro Tip: $14.95 for a 12 pack at Tadych’s Econofoods , Sturgeon Bay

A Wee Bit O'Blarney

The Feast Day of Saint Patrick has taken-on more significance for me since we traveled and visited the Old Sod of my ancestors a couple of years ago.  

Unless you are oblivious it is obvious that the Republic of Ireland is most assuredly a bastion of the Roman Catholic tradition of the Christian faith.  And I suppose more than a few visitors are left with the impression that Ireland is - in some official capacity - a Catholic country.  While Catholics significantly outnumber all other faith traditions in Ireland, there is no reference to Catholicism in the Irish Constitution.  Ireland is officially a secular state and tolerates all belief systems.  Of course, on my visit not even once did I spy a Lutheran church.  But I digress. 

Getting back to the Feast Day the story of Ireland’s Patron Saint persists and you readers are likely wondering if St. Patrick really did chase the snakes out of Ireland.  Or is that tale just a bunch of blarney?        

According to the tale way back in the fifth century the legendary priest raised his staff and banished the reptiles into the seas surrounding the Emerald Isle.  Save for those in captivity it is true that Ireland has no snakes.  But this current condition has less to do with religious tradition and more to do with geologic history and events dating many millennia ago.  Following the retreat of the last glaciers some 15,000 years ago Ireland was devoid of snakes.  Surrounded by icy waters to this very day snakes cannot swim or find their way there and as a consequence Ireland remains snake-free.          

That’s too bad because if my recreational DNA test is to be believed I am becoming more Irish with every passing year.  And I have a particular fondness for snakes. The bigger the better.    Like this dandy five foot long Western Fox Snake.  

 

I also like a good saint when I see one and St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish.          

Patrick was born of aristocratic blood in Britain probably around the year 390.  The legend says that he was not particularly religious.  At age 16 he was kidnapped into slavery was forced into life as a sheepherder in Ireland.  It is held that it was during this time that he found God and became a believer.          

As the story goes he began hearing voices and the voices instructed him to flee.  Which he did.  Patrick eventually found his way back to Britain and his family.  Alas, the voices returned commanding him to return to Ireland.  He was ordained a priest, went back to Ireland and spent the balance of a rather difficult life converting the pagan Celts to Christianity.  He died on March 17, 461 and was promptly forgotten.       

Nevertheless, over many years faithful conviction and belief in the story of Patrick grew.  And he grew ever larger after his death than he did in real life.  Hundreds of years after the fact he was honored as Ireland’s patron saint.          

So on March 17th we gather to pay homage to this saint who - ostensibly - banished the snakes from Ireland.  It is said that on this one day of the year everyone is Irish.           

 

Since I have real Irish blood coursing through my veins I intend to raise a glass of Guinness and toast my ancestors and Saint Patrick.  I will ignore the part about the sketchy British and Western European connection.          

Speaking of Guinness - according to the Guinness people somewhere around 5.5 million pints of Guinness stout are consumed world-wide each and every day.  On St. Patrick’s Day this will grow to 13 million pints.       

Drink responsibly people.         

Sláinte!

Round-up Your Mates

Sometimes you stumble-across a clever example of market that is just too good not to share.  This is one of those examples.

Cheers!

Irish Packer Backer

 

Traveling around the world you're never far from the cultural influence of professional sports - especially the Green Bay Packers.

October of 2019 found us traveling in western Ireland and there was this in the city of Galway.

The backstory of the street performance artist was that he snared the Packer hat on a visit to Milwaukee to perform at Irish Fest.  

The reach of the Pack is global......

If Only The Dead Could Talk

We began our recognition of the Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos) with a wee bit of extra sleep and a yummy egg and sausage casserole with garden tomatoes on the side. 

A year ago today Jill and I had returned to the Old Sod of Ireland and were privileged to enjoy a pint of Mothers Milk every day (and almost within the shadow of the Guinness brewery).  This stuff out of the can is an acceptable substitute under the circumstances.   

 

 

Today is not a day of mourning.  Nor is it a Mexican Halloween celebration.  Halloween is a celebration of darkness, fear and the macabre - in contrast this is a joyous celebration.  

Besides, it is Packer game day and brats are on deck later. 

Raising a glass to celebrate the lives of all of my dead ancestors.   

 Maybe they have an Irish Blessing to share? 

Cheers!

Roots

The oral traditions of those that came before me always maintained that my roots were one-half Irish and one-half German.  

Mom's laborious genealogy research supported the tracing of our immigrant ancestors back to both Ireland and Germany – at which point the trail went cold.  Mom’s work predated the internet so much of it was conducted in-person while researching dusty birth, baptismal and death records in small Midwest communities including a trip to Salt Lake City, Utah to delve into accounts maintained by the Church of Latter Day Saints – the Mormons. 

Through it all the ethnic pie remained 50/50. 

Since mom departed this earthly realm DNA technology has turned old-school genealogy on its head.  Sure, those dusty old birth, baptismal and death records remain incredibly important – nonetheless the arrival of online, searchable databases along with easy and affordable DNA technology has stirred the pot and added ease of detail and historical color that had previously been missing.  

Four years ago I took the plunge and had my DNA analyzed for purposes of learning more about my origins.  A number of my acquaintances and family have since done the same.  Admittedly, the results of this testing include plenty of disclaimers and caveats about the imprecise nature of what you will learn yet it certainly opened the door to additional – shall we say – assumptions.  For quite some time the premise of the 50/50 conclusion continued to hold sway - yet become sketchier as DNA science and region began to supplant borders.

Behold my 2016 ethnicity map: 

By 2018 it had been updated to this:

And almost a year ago I received this update just before we left to visit Ireland.  

That oral tradition in my family that supported the ½ Irish and ½ German?   Ten months ago there was very little remaining that was specific to Germany.  The German component was shrinking.

 
This is complicated on a number of levels but what is clear is that roughly half of my DNA reflects the history of Western European migration patterns and invasions.  If you go back far enough it was the Celts who dominated much of what is now Europe and the British Isles.  Tribal and warlike the Celts had no written language and as a consequence there are no complete records.  

What we do know is that the Romans displaced them and the Celts retreated to Britain and Ireland.  Following that the barbarians displaced the Romans.  Armies ebbed and flowed and conquering Anglo-Saxons, Vikings and Normans left their mark upon this part of the world both politically, culturally and ethnically as well.  The DNA persists.
 

Modern studies suggest that these earlier populations weren’t necessarily wiped-out but adapted and absorbed new arrivals.  Invaders and migrators left their seed in their wake and as a consequence the story has become both clearer - and more complex.  Trace DNA is quite persistent which makes my roots both diverse and more than a wee bit ambiguous. 
 

The other day this arrived.

Anything that refers to German or Germany – Gone! 

Stay-tuned.......

A Wee Bit O'Blarney

Kilfenora - Ireland

The Feast Day of Saint Patrick has taken-on more significance for me since we traveled and visited the Old Sod of my ancestors last November.  Unless you are oblivious it is obvious that the Republic of Ireland is most assuredly a bastion of the Roman Catholic tradition of the Christian faith.  And I suppose more than a few visitors are left with the impression that Ireland is - in some official capacity - a Catholic country.  While Catholics significantly outnumber all other faith traditions in Ireland, there is no reference to Catholicism in the Irish Constitution.  Ireland is officially a secular state and tolerates all belief systems.  Of course, on my visit not even once did I spy a Lutheran church.  But I digress.  



Getting back to the Feast Day the story of Ireland’s Patron Saint persists and you readers are likely wondering if St. Patrick really did chase the snakes out of Ireland.  Or is that tale just a bunch of blarney?        

According to the tale way back in the fifth century the legendary priest raised his staff and banished the reptiles into the seas surrounding the Emerald Isle.  Save for those in captivity it is true that Ireland has no snakes.  But this current condition has less to do with religious tradition and more to do with geologic history and events dating many millennia ago.  Following the retreat of the last glaciers some 15,000 years ago Ireland was devoid of snakes.  Surrounded by icy waters to this very day snakes cannot swim or find their way there and as a consequence Ireland remains snake-free.         

That’s too bad because if my recreational DNA test is to be believed I am becoming more Irish with every passing year.  And I have a particular fondness for snakes. The bigger the better.         

Like this dandy five foot long Western Fox Snake.  I also like a good saint when I see one and St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish.         

Patrick was born of aristocratic blood in Britain probably around the year 390.  The legend says that he was not particularly religious.  At age 16 he was kidnapped into slavery was forced into life as a sheepherder in Ireland.  It is held that it was during this time that he found God and became a believer.         

As the story goes he began hearing voices and the voices instructed him to flee.  Which he did.  Patrick eventually found his way back to Britain and his family.  Alas, the voices returned commanding him to return to Ireland.  He was ordained a priest, went back to Ireland and spent the balance of a rather difficult life converting the pagan Celts to Christianity.  He died on March 17, 461 and was promptly forgotten.      

Nevertheless, over many years faithful conviction and belief in the story of Patrick grew.  And he grew ever larger after his death than he did in real life.  Hundreds of years after the fact he was honored as Ireland’s patron saint.         

So on March 17th we gather to pay homage to this saint who - ostensibly - banished the snakes from Ireland.  It is said that on this one day of the year everyone is Irish.          

Since I have real Irish blood coursing through my veins I intend to raise a glass of Guinness and toast my ancestors and Saint Patrick.  I will ignore the part about the sketchy British and Western European connection.         

Speaking of Guinness - according to the Guinness people somewhere around 5.5 million pints of Guinness stout are consumed world-wide each and every day.  On St. Patrick’s Day this will grow to 13 million pints.      

Drink responsibly people.         

Sláinte!

Cold Winter Night

Cold today and colder tonight - with a fire in the wood burner continuously today.  As I tap-out this post it is presently 69 degrees indoors and 6 degrees outdoors. Among other things I did some terrific cooking this afternoon.  
 

 

Seán's Bar is a pub adjacent to the Shannon River on the County Roscommon side of the town of Athlone, Ireland (between Dublin and Galway).      

 

Continuously-operated since AD 900 It is the oldest watering hole in the world.         

 

Anyway, the best meal Jill had on our visit a couple of months ago was Fish Pie at Seán's.       

 

The name is uninspired - but this resulting baked deliciousness of salmon, scallops, whitefish, shrimp and sauce topped with a buttery mash was outstanding.

 

Behold the fish pie...      

 

 

First time I’ve made it.

 

Won’t be the last.         

 
Pretty good chow on a brisk winter evening.

Just brought the girls in from a potty break.  The constellation Orion is prominent in the southern sky with Sirius the brightest of stars in the south-southeast. 

There is an Eastern screech owl calling to the west. 

Nice finish to the day. 

Slàinte!

 

Viking Fan

I'd bet that the title of this post caught your attention, eh?  If you are of Irish ancestry like I am a map of your DNA would reveal contributions from British, Scandinavian, and French invasions.  And contrary to popular belief the Irish have more Viking blood in their ancestry than previously believed.  

Vikings invaded Ireland for the first time in the 8th century - raiding a monastery on Rathlin Island on the northeast coast.  These warlike raiders were armed to the teeth and arrived with strength in numbers.  They advanced inland along riverways sacking monastic settlements and seizing captives to be sold into slavery.  

click on images for a closer look

Eventually the Vikings settled in Ireland including a major settlement in Dublin founded in 841 AD.  Vikings also settled in Scotland and would grow to be known as the Gallowglass.  The name derives from the Gaelic word gallóglach (GAHL-o-glukh) roughly translated as foreign warrior.  Gallowglass are descendants of not only Vikings but of Scots native to the western Highlands and Hebrides.  Scottish historian Fergus Cannan noted that the Gallowglass lived for war - his sole function was to fight, and his only contribution to society was destruction. 

The Viking conquest persisted for longer than 200 years and the fact that Scandinavian DNA is so widespread among the people of the United Kingdom and Western Europe is living proof of the extent of Viking assimilation and contact.   

The National Museum in Dublin has an extensive exhibit on the Viking imprint on Ireland’s culture.  Including the harm that can be inflicted-upon a combatant by a sword or battle axe. 

What we don’t know is if the this skull is of a Celtic combatant (Irishman) slain by a Viking or that of a Viking combatant felled by an Irish warrior. 

If only the dead could talk......