Mairead's seafood chowder

Ingredients

500g marinara mix, or make your own mixture of prawns, scallops, mussels, calamari and anything else you wish
250g white or smoked fish
750ml of fish stock (preferably fresh)
250ml of skimmed milk
1 tbsp olive oil
4 medium potatoes
1 small onion
1 stick of celery
1 carrot
2 cloves garlic finely chopped
½ teaspoon turmeric (if desired)
Fresh parsley finely chopped

Method
Finely chop all the vegetables except the potatoes and fry in the olive oil until well softened. Stir in the turmeric.
Meanwhile chop the potatoes into very small chunks (peel beforehand if you wish).
Add the fish stock and the potatoes, bring back to the boil and simmer for about 15 minutes until the potatoes are well cooked.
Chop all of the seafood into very small pieces (however small you think you want them, chop them a bit more).
Add the skimmed milk, and immediately add the seafood into the pot. Simmer for 30-45 minutes.
Sprinkle with fresh chopped parsley and serve with proper Irish brown or soda bread, or if not available a decent pasta dura bread will do.

Serves 4 as a main course or 6 as a starter.

chowders I have known

A week in Connemara. A week of fresh seafood, especially seafood chowder. You may think that New England has the market cornered in good chowder, but you'd be wrong. The west of Ireland has it all sewn up.

We were miles from the famed Moran's of the Weir in Clarenbridge, or Monks of Ballyvaughan, but the bars and restaurants of the west coast of Galway held their own admirably. Our first foray was up in Verdon's of Letterfrack, after a morning's scuba diving which had us weirdly craving chowder and chips. We sat outside in the summer sunshine, savouring what was the closest thing to a Manhattan chowder we had all week. Tomato-based instead of creamy, our bowls were full of chopped local mussels and generously sprinkled with fresh parsley. The crown bread was fresh and the chips were fresh, not frozen. The brown bread was shop-bought but on the positive side it was McCambridge's. An excellent start.

On the same day, another group of us lunched at Ballynahinch Castle near Clifden. There, the chowder was more of a bisque, a smooth soup with no lumps in, just a handful of fresh mussels in the half-shell. Those who experienced this one had not discovered the joys of dunking freshly-fried chips into a good chowder, so we cannot record here how good Ballynahinch's french fries are.

A cold, blustery day saw us take refuge in Glynsk House for a late lunch. There, the bar menu served up a lovely creamy chowder, with plenty of celery, carrot and tomato, and with more than a hint of turmeric in there, and perhaps the tiniest pinch of curry powder. The use of dill instead of parsley was interesting and fresh. Sadly, Mum (a legendary chips expert) announced that the chips, whilst piping hot, were made from frozen. Marks lost. However the brown bread was served as big fresh scones, obviously home-made. Marks gained.

Glynsk House's sister establishment is Cashel House, a couple of doors away from our holiday home. Our last dinner of the holiday started - of course - with chowder, but despite being a related restaurant it was quite a different bowlful. No turmeric or dill this time, plenty of vegetables, and both white fish and salmon along with mussels. Chips were good and fresh, but no brown bread, just a white dinner roll.

Tigh Chathain in Cill Chiarain served us up a fish chowder - not a mussel in sight. Creamy white and laden with white fish, smoked fish and salmon, it was accompanied by generous basketfuls of fresh pasta dura and white soda bread. Chips excellent, fresh and chunky. And all washed down with an entertaining and informative chat with the barman about the day de Valera unveiled the sculpture of Padraig O Conaire in Eyre Square in Galway.

So, finally we come to our final chowder, in the Galleon Grill in Salthill on our way home. This one was almost white it was so creamy, but it didn't tasty as rich and creamy as expected. Mostly white fish and salmon, with the odd shrimp and scallop. It could have done with a little more salt but that's not a complaint, as often soups and chowders can be overly salty. Fresh brown bread scones and proper fresh chips. Marvellous.

All of which prompted me to try my own very first chowder today, just to help me re-integrate into Australian society. A decent potato soup made with fish stock, plenty of shrimp, chopped calamari, mussels, white fish and smoked cod. I did a Glynsk House on it and chucked some turmeric in there too, with plenty of chopped parsley. I simmered the pot for a couple of hours and baked some of my own Irish brown bread scones, and if I say so myself it was a bit of a triumph.

it's Pancake Tuesday!

The day before Lent begins means a stack of pancakes for lunch and more after dinner. Or that was how it was when I was a child.

I would come home from school for lunch and Mum would have made a big stack of pancakes, frying-pan sized, made from freshly-mixed homemade batter. Simple: flour, eggs, milk, beaten until smooth then poured into a frying pan spoonful by spoonful.

The first one was always less than average. The frying pan was never hot enough, and the skill of pouring just exactly enough batter to make a thin pancake forgotten since last year. The second one was always better.

A perfect pancake was extra-thin, it filled the whole frying pan and it was cooked just long enough to give it dark brown grooves of caramelised loveliness on each side.

There was no messing about with exotic toppings in our house. This was a pre-Lent ritual, designed to get all the flour, eggs, sugar and butter used up before the fasting began. Each pancake would be spread with butter, sprinkled with a liberal amount of sugar and finished off with a good squirt of lemon juice. The three toppings would mingle into a sweet-and-sour liquid of perfect viscosity.

Mum always stacked the pancakes one by one, topped individually as described above, then when the whole stack was done she would slice them into wedges like a cake. Personally I always preferred to eat my pancakes whole, rolled up, with butter, sugar and lemon juice added fresh each time. This is how I do it myself when I make pancakes in my own house.

Anybody else doing Pancake Tuesday? Anybody got any other family rituals you want to share?

l'Officina

Dundrum Town Centre
Dublin 16
http://www.dunneandcrescenzi.com/

A night out with old friends Joe and Elva is always a highlight of my year. We only get to see each other once or twice a year when I visit Ireland. After 25 years our evenings revolve around good food (often served in their own hectic kitchen), good wine and plenty of conversation.

A beautiful Irish summer evening saw Elva and I looking fabulous in summer fashion, and Joe looking buff and suntanned. Going out with Joe and Elva can be dangerous as they are both incredibly good-looking, and blessed with deep suntans after (it seems) five minutes in the sun. They both look more Mediterranean than Irish, and indeed Joe was once almost stopped from leaving Turkey as they suspected him of being a local trying to leave on a fake Irish passport...

Given the summer warmth and the fabulous outfits we opted for eating out: Italian seemed a perfect choice. Dublin's Dunn and Crescenzi mini-empire now includes l'Officina, in the new Dundrum shopping centre within a stone's throw of Harvey Nick's. Dunn and Crescenzi are known for their excellent ingredients, slow food philosophy and wonderful atmosphere, and l'Officina in Dundrum was no exception.

The wine list was impressive but we didn't linger over it. The house wine flowed as we shared three starters: some delicious bresaola served with rocket and olive oil on sourdough bread, divine bruschetta made from proper sun-ripened tomatoes, and a decent plate of antipasto with plenty of choice. We lingered over every mouthful and the last morsels of each went to the highest bidder.

Elva and I both chose the special for our main: pasta twists cut to the same length as the calamari it was served with, lightly tossed in olive oil, herbs and a hint of chilli. Joe chose a wagyu steak served alone with just a garnish: he actually forgot to order a side, but then decided it would have taken away from his experience.

For a Tuesday night the place was pretty busy which indicated its popularity. People sat outside by the fountain as well as inside in the modern but welcoming restaurant. Italian deli items and packets of coffee beans were stocked on shelves: the restaurant also sells what it serves.

The wait staff were, it seemed, all Italian, and the post-rush dinners they ate as we sat over our coffees looked as sensational as the food we had just been served. Can't remember the name of the brand of coffee they were serving, but it was really great. Smooth and rich, even the decaf had a kick to it. Happily the waiter didn't flinch when I asked for a macchiato: the mark (in Ireland) of a genuine Italian eatery.

I look forward to trying the rest of Dunn and Crescenzi's restaurants next time I am in town.

Spago Portlaoise

www.theheritagehotel.com/bar-&-restaurants/spago-italian-bistro

On our way home from Dingle we stopped late in the evening in Portlaoise looking for some good home-cooked Italian food. Some might say we were being a tad ambitious, but this is 21st century Ireland and I was hopeful. We stumbled upon Spago, a new-ish Italian housed in the Portlaoise Heritage Hotel right in town.

A friendly maitre d' with a broad Dublin accent seated us in a rustic-looking (but not as far as checked table-cloths) restaurant and immediately served us warm marinated olives, virgin olive oil and sourdough bread. A good start.

We opted for main courses only at that late hour. The two pizzas were freshly made with only the best and freshest toppings. Not too big and perfectly cooked (the Doyles like our pizzas done well). Connor's chicken and mushroom pasta could have been ordinary but it tasted delicious. Not too creamy and the chicken flavours dominated. I ordered linguine vongole, one of my favourite comfort foods. Tomatoey and with a hint of chilli, I devoured it.

We could not be tempted by the desserts. Mum favours traditional fare such as her favourite, Knickerbocker Glory, and doesn't go in for the usual Italian treats such as tiramisu. Ashling was sorely tempted but it was getting late. The last-minute coffee I downed was again freshly made and ended a very enjoyable but brief meal. Pity it doesn't open Sundays or Ashling and Connor's dad my brother Bernard) would make this a weekend hangout.

Ballyfermot Resource Centre

The place I grew up in Dublin is a working-class suburb. In my whole time living there, there was never any place you could go to eat out, unless you counted the takeaways or the pubs which sometimes did food at lunchtimes.

In England, even if there are no restaurants you will always find a little cafe where you can pick up breakfast or lunch on the run. Ballyfermot didn't even have this. Until now.

My brother is associated with the Ballyfermot Resource Centre, a place which provides services for the local community like self-help groups, a counselling service, adult education and childcare. It also has a little cafe which offers breakfasts and lunches to the people in the adult education centre upstairs and anybody else who wanders in. They also cater for the local meals on wheels service.

Whilst being shown around by my brother one morning, Theresa the restaurant manager offered me lunch but I couldn't stay. So I popped in another morning for a chat and breakfast. Most people in the cafe at that time of the morning were eating a full Irish breakfast which looked and smelt delicious, but I opted for a toasted bacon sandwich. Well done bacon and well done toast, I said cautiously: there is nothing worse than a limp undercooked bacon butty. Theresa sat down with a healthy bowl of muesli for her breakfast, and Angela the centre manager joined us for a chat.

My mug of tea was scalding hot, and the teabag had been added to the mug at the kettle (the little things one takes for granted in Ireland - most tea in Australia is made with not-quite-boiling water and it shows). My bacon sandwich was perfect: excellent quality Irish bacon well cooked on the grill, and perfectly-done toast. I savoured every mouthful.

Angela and Theresa laughed when I promised them that I would post a review of their cafe online, but here it is. I was only sorry I couldn't stick around for lunch. I shall save that for my next trip.

Avoca Handweavers

The Avoca Handweavers story came into being almost 300 years ago in the tiny Wicklow village of Avoca. In its latest form, owned by Dublin business couple Donald and Hilary Pratt, Avoca has developed into a concept store encompassing homewares, clothing, kitchen shops, gourmet foods, and in-store cooking and baking.

The newest Avoca Handweavers store opened recently in Rathcoole, not far from my mum's home in Dublin. Having already popped into their stores in Dublin city centre and Wicklow's Powerscourt Townhouse, we were interested to see what they had created on our doorstep.

This large concept store has almost equal square footage given to retail space and dining space. Upstairs a large airy self-service cafe offers freshly made soups, hot lunches, breads and patisserie to the well-heeled local residents, as well as busy business people taking a break from their travels. next door a more formal table-service restaurant offers similar fare in more refined surroundings.

The salads are divine. The Mediterranean tomato and vegetable soup almost needs a knife and fork to consume it. The cakes and scones are so large that we had to share one scone between us (and we like scones). The jam is homemade, runny, and intensely flavoured.

Downstairs, we bought some brown scones for my sister's breakfast, and the lady at the check-out gave us a taste of a freshly-baked Bakewell slice. The shelves groaned with gourmet pastas and sauces, marmalades and mustards, nuts and exotic dried fruits. I escaped empty-handed only because of Australia's heavy restrictions on importing food.

I have a feeling that our local Avoca Handweavers will become a fixture in our family outings from now on.

Don Giovannis

Back to my mum's favourite Italian on my last Dublin trip, and the waiters are as charming as ever.

We spoke to John, the owner for the past sixteen years, a charming man who recognised us from the photo on the first posting I made last year. Clearly proud of his domain, he credits his success on excellent chefs and personable staff. I saw him greet many of the diners personally, and people obviously come back here again and again because of the friendly atmosphere as much as for the tasty home-style Italian food.

Mum's steak was perfectly cooked (well, cooked to her liking which is most important), my lasagne was delicious and our home-made soups were a welcome start to a meal on a chilly spring day.

Dining here just days after an expensive (but enjoyable) meal at the Unicorn, I know which one I will be coming back to on my next journey home. See you soon, Don Giovanni!

The Unicorn

The twenty-year anniversary of our graduation from the old UCD Engineering School around the corner was the occasion for a dinner at the Unicorn. Hidden down an alleyway off Merrion Row, the Unicorn was for years my favourite Dublin restaurant. As a student I used to gaze down the alleyway and imagine what it would be like to have the money to eat in a place like that.

A couple of scoops in Doheny and Nesbitts, and six of us arrived for our table at nine o'clock. Naturally, we had to wait at the tiny, cramped bar (the Unicorn doesn't rush you out the door) but we were entertained by a nice bottle of Chianti and a couple of plates of parma ham freshly cut from the specimen on the counter.

The Unicorn's menu looks a bit dated now, and then the waiter told us that there were no prawns. On second glance, the menu was pretty heavy on the prawns and Dublin Bay Prawns. That meant about half the dishes were no longer available. Disappointing. The pasta options were a little obvious - carbonara, amatriciana etc. I found myself struggling to choose something appetising. Finally I opted for the goat's cheese salad to start, followed by saltimbocca, and was not disappointed.

I guess we were focusing more on the conversation than the food, but what I saw around the table was predictable and perfectly edible, but forgettable really. The place was full to bursting, and still has a reputation of a place to see and be seen, but for the price (90 euros a head including wine - that's about $150 Australian) I would be expecting a lot more.

Service was lovely - professional, friendly without being overbearing (except perhaps when he tried to explain to me what parma ham was ) and efficient.

Annette's Wine Musings #1: Cava

CAVA
Cava is Spain's much loved answer to champagne, a dry wine made sparkling by the traditional method.
The majority of Cava is made from grapes grown in Penedes, close to Barcelona.
Here are 2 of my favourites worth trying:

Segura Vuidas Brut Reserva Cava
Pale in colour with small lively bubbles.
On the nose you will find lemon and lime with a hint of pineapple, green apple and biscuit.
A lovely rounded Cava that goes well with everything from a cigarette to a seafood platter. Pop a strawberry in on a balmy summer evening and enjoy!

Codorniu Pinot Noir
This is a wonderful pink cava, cherry in colour with pale and bright tones.
The nose is packed with raspberry, blackberry and strawberry hints, along with a slight citric aroma that gives an extraordinary freshness.
Recommended with dessert or some cheeses but perfect to drink alone in my opinion.
It also goes without saying that Cava will match well with any Spanish tapas - remember, any wine will match local food best.


As the Spanish toast goes:
" Salut, dinero y amor"

Back with a Vengeance

Sorry for the gap folks - I've been globetrotting as you know. Ireland for twelve days, London for a couple of nights, then a glorious five nights on Hamilton Islands in the Whitsundays on the Queensland coast.

It was a double celebration - my mum's 80th birthday and my 40th a week later.

Don't we look good?

More later once I have settled back in: I have many tales of dinners eaten including the wonderful Italian Mum and I had in Don Giovanni's in Dalkey (above).

Five Things to Eat Before You Die - preamble

Traveler’s Lunchbox has been hosting a Foodblogger’s Guide to the Globe, asking everyone to list their top five things to eat before you die. The list is up to 1,245 not including those left in the comments. Fascinating reading.

Some people have specified not only what dish, but where you should eat it and who should have cooked it. I think this is cheating a little bit, because how are we ever going to sample “my mother-in-law’s oxtail stew with butter beans” or “a piece of my world famous carrot cake”?

I preferred Harmonia’s approach:
1151. Quinoa
1152. Hummum
1153. Avocado
1154. Tea
1155. Garlic

…or the contribution from doodles:
1156. Cioppino in San Francisco
1157. White pizza in Italy
1158. Beer in Munich
1159. Chinese food in Toronto
1160. Lobster in Maine and Mexican food in Topolabumpo

But my favourite was probably Andrew – simple and yet perfect:
261. Picking the bits off a chicken carcass
262. Fruit straight from a tree
263. Blackberry and Apple Pie
264. Mr Whippy Ice-cream
265. Any meal with friends

I am still working on my top five, but in the meantime here are five things I will be eating in Ireland (far too specific to be included in my real list):

1. Proper Irish brown bread
2. Irish sausages from my mother’s pork butcher, Peadar Kelly, in Palmerstown
3. Bananas!
4. Smoked cod and chips from the local chipper
5. Real apple tart made by my mum

Mummum's fairy cakes

My mum's recipe is really easy to remember and to increase or decrease according to how many you want. You can make them with just raisins in, or make them without raisins and decorate them with cream or jam and coconut or whatever you want.

Ingredients
Raisins 125g (optional)
Butter 125g
Caster sugar 125g
Self raising flour 125g
2 eggs beaten
1 teasp vanilla extract
2 tbsp milk

Method
Pre-heat oven to 190˚C

Beat butter and sugar till fluffy

Add egg a little at a time, whisking as you go

Add raisins (optional)

Beat in the vanilla

Stir in half the flour

Add milk and the rest of the flour

Fold until well combined

Spoon into cups and bake 10-12 minutes or until golden on top

Cool for 10 minutes on a wire rack

proper Irish scones

My mother makes the best scones on earth. When I was in university I lived at home, and I used to leave early on Thursdays to get home in time for the scones to be taken out of the oven. They are best eaten slightly warm with as much butter as your heart can handle. Not butter substitute, REAL butter.


Ingredients
2 oz butter
1lb self-raising flour
4 oz caster sugar
4 oz sultanas
½ pint fresh milk
Beaten egg to glaze

Method
Rub four, sugar and butter together

Rub in sultanas

Bind with milk

Knead and roll to 3/4 inch thick

Cut into scones with a glass and glaze with the beaten egg

Bake 20-25 minutes at 200˚C

Cool on a wire rack

Mummum's tea brack

Mummum's tea brack is one of my mother's specialities. She is a plain cook but a wonderful baker. This traditional Irish cake is not too sweet and - unsurprisingly - uses tea to moisten it. It would often be served sliced like bread and buttered.


1 lb of sultanas or raisins
1 cup of cold tea
1 egg
3/4 lb flour


1. Steep fruit in tea for at least one hour (preferably overnight).

2. Add egg and swirl around.

3. Sieve in flour and mix well.

4. Pour into 9 inch square tin.

5. Put in oven in middle shelf at Gas Mark 4 for 45 minutes.

6. Cover with tin foil and cook for a further 45 minutes and Gas Mark 3.

7. Test with a knife to make sure centre is cooked.