During the early phase of autumn, I found myself immersed in the nostalgic activity of collecting wild blackberries near the secretive corner of the local football ground. I placed the most deeply hued, gleaming berries in my basket, negotiating through the bramble bushes rather carefully. Upon their encounter with the scene, three dog-walkers, drawn from their promenade, delightedly recollected their own childhood memories of partaking in a similar activity. Whilst preparing jam from the gathered berries back at home, an intriguing realisation dawned upon me – I was on the cusp of reliving my irish youth, albeit at an advanced age of nearly 70.
Approximately five years past in the festive season of Christmas, my wife and I made the decision to lease our California residence and embarked on a journey to Ireland with our major possessions consigned to storage and our travel luggage limited to five suitcases. The year-long adventure, which we pronounced back then, was planned to include spending cherished moments with our young grandchildren and making recurring trips to socialise with friends located continentally across Europe, with the city of Waterford serving as our primary residence.
Reflecting upon the mysterious course of life, we find our plans significantly rerouted. We are now well-positioned in a delightful Irish home, in an incredible city filled with loved ones and friends. While our initial months following our relocation were marred by the global pandemic, quarantine restrictions became oddly adventurous as a simple walk with our pet to People’s Park presented unique thrills. As we progressed, Ireland embraced us in its community, making us feel almost native rather than tourists. This newfound respect for the place was reaffirmed when I succeeded in acquiring an Irish driving licence.
In comparison to the thrilling lifestyle in Los Angeles that spanned 30 years, living in Ireland induces calmness and serenity. While California offered an alluring exuberance, Ireland appeals to us now due to its tranquillity, the soft atmosphere, lush green forests, rocky coastlines, and congenial interactions with unfamiliar people.
Being a food editor for the Los Angeles Times for approximately three decades required me to stay updated with arguably, the world’s most dynamic food culture.
Living within close proximity to a variety of cultural cuisines, such as Little Tokyo, Koreatown and Little Saigon, proved to be a decisive influence on me. As an experienced food columnist, I often visited farmers markets to discover prime produce for my recipes, eventually penning a book on the subject.
I gauged the passing of seasons not by weather changes, as it was generally always hot, but by the dishes I was crafting. In winter, citrus and greens took centre stage, while peaches and tomatoes characterised summer. Unlike the constant sunshine of my old setting, in Ireland the distinct seasons are impossible to miss.
While the range of ingredients available in Ireland may not be as extensive as in Los Angeles, my gratitude for what I can get has grown. I still follow the seasonality of produce, from rhubarb in early spring to foraged blackberries later on.
I’ve also deepened my understanding of produce, such as the difference between various types of cabbages and potatoes. Similarly, I’ve grown to value the depth of flavour and complexity in simple ingredients like parsnips and carrots.
As for bacon, the American version is a far cry from the Irish one. The local version, served simmered with cabbage and accompanied by potatoes and broth, is a treat like no other. The quality of the local meat – be it beef, pork, or lamb – sourced from my local butcher Kearney’s or the fantastic duck from Silver Hill available at most supermarkets, far surpasses what I had been accustomed to.
The perplexity continues as to why more Irish folk don’t revel in seafood. Oysters from Ireland are some of the finest I’ve encountered, and freshly caught mackerel is a delight to my palate. My preferred seafood outlet, nestled in a Dunmore East corner shop, excels at stocking locally sourced fishes like John Dory, turbot, and an array of sole varieties. Furthermore, my local SuperValu does not lag too far behind in their offerings.
Extolling the virtues of Irish cheese and dairy goods isn’t necessary – it’s adequate to mention that brands like St Tola, Cashel, and Cooleeney stand shoulder to shoulder with any international counterparts. Each time I stroll past the Sheridan’s stall, there’s always a new shining gem to discover. Recently, I stumbled onto a raw milk cheddar from Mount Leinster that simply blew me away.
Cooking remains the core of my daily regimen, my mindfulness ritual. The act of cutting, dicing, and sautéing food calms me and brings a sense of tranquility.
Once lunch is over, my mind begins debating the options for dinner. My meal planning is dependent upon the weather, the contents of my fridge, but above all, the dishes I’m in the mood to prepare.
With the pressure of generating several recipes monthly for work no longer hanging over me, I’ve been able to embrace a comfortable routine composed of my cherished dishes. These are reorganised as per my mood, with an occasional unexpected spark of inspiration tossed in to keep the process invigorating.
During my daughter’s childhood, her usual query around meal times used to be: “Is this a normal meal or another recipe experiment?”
Now, it’s always a proper dinner.