It’s Not Easy Being Green…

I am Irish, at least a little bit Irish. My last name means ‘black’ in Gaelic, most commonly thought to refer to the dark black hair coloring of my ancestors. I have medium brown hair. My brothers have blond hair, blonder hair, and darker brown hair. My dad is missing most of his hair. We are failing our ancestors.

My Irish brown-haired brother is named Patrick. March 17th should be like a birthday to him. He is, after all, Irish and named Patrick. Most of the time, we just remind him that his name is Patrick on this day of the year. My grandma usually sends him a “St. Patty’s Day” card. I’m so jealous. Occasionally, my mom will try to make something Irish. One year she made corned beef and cabbage. As the story goes, she slaved all day making this traditional dish only to have her 4 Irish children and 1 Irish husband despise the meal. Sorry Ireland, we weren’t big fans. More importantly, sorry mom, we know you tried hard.

I’m trying to show you just how bad at being Irish I am. I am of Irish descent (about 1/1000000 I think), but when I see people don green attire, wave Irish flags, do Irish jigs, and inhale homemade Irish soda bread, I realize that I am bad at being Irish.

For goodness sakes, why am I not more spirited when it comes to “St. Patrick’s Day?”

Maybe someday I will drink Guinness Beer, munch on colcannon, and jig up and down the streets on March 17th. Until then, I will google “Irish Foods” like I did this year. Then I will decide to make one of the recipes. I might discover a cute little Irish folk saying that goes along with my new Irish recipe (like the one I did this year). I will try to remember to wear a green shirt to work. And I might (emphasis on might), go searching for a four-leafed clover.

And for a few moments each March 17th, I will feel a bit more Irish. The rest of the year, I will prefer to eat my cabbage pickled like a German. The rest of the year my brother will allow a high school friend to call him the “Italian Stalllion” just because he thinks its funny that she is oblivious of just how blatantly Irish his name is. The rest of the year we won’t favor the color kelly green in our house. The rest of the year, I won’t think of pots-o-gold, or four-leaf clovers, or leprechauns. But today, I shall be a bit more Irish.

—- Let’s Segway into this little poem that I found on the internet —–

Boxty on the griddle,
boxty in the pan,
if you can’t make boxty,
you’ll never get a man. 

Look who can make boxty? Bring on the men. Looks like I won’t be needing the ‘luck of the Irish’ after all. I just needed a good boxty recipe.



P.S. Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Patrick. May the luck-o-the-Irish be with you.

Irish Boxty
Source: The Parsley Thief
Printable Recipe

1 Yukon Gold potato (~9oz), peeled, chopped into chunks
1 1/4C peeled, grated Yukon Gold potato {squeezed dry with a paper towel}
3/4 cup flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp kosher salt
1/2C buttermilk or (1C soymilk + 1tsp lemon juice)
canola oil

Bring a pot of water to a boil. Cook potato for 15 minutes, until fork tender. Drain water. Return to pot. Mash. You will want about 1C mashed potatoes.

In a bowl, combine mashed potato, grated potato, flour, baking soda, and salt. Add in buttermilk, a few spoonfuls at a time, until the mixture is similar to the consistency of mashed potatoes.

Heat canola oil in a non-stick pan over medium high heat. Drop by heaping tablespoon onto hot oil. Press batter down gently to slightly flatten. Cook for 3 minutes, until golden brown. Flip and cook for additional 2 minutes. Serve immediately. I garnished with a few chopped scallions or parsley.



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