transient travels

For the past few weeks I have been experimenting with my meals. Twice I made a stir fry and once I made a soup with Japanese noodles. A few times I tried tofu, once it was good when Mike made it and then another time, when I did – not so much. That being said, as much as I try to be adventurous food-wise, it becomes more and more apparent that I am anything but, a foodie.

When I first arrived in Ireland back in 2004 to study for the semester at University College Cork, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Strolling through the Tesco, confused at the tiny portions with my naive, American eyes, I was at a loss. One time I bought pasta and when I thought the traditional jar of ragu would be safe – alas, it was the sickest thing I had ever tasted.

I know what you are thinking, why was I trying to go Italian when I could just play it safe and buy a potato? I was in Ireland for crying out loud! The truth was, I had no idea how to cook one. My Irish mom put a plain potato, in some form or another, on almost every one of my dinner plates since I could remember and I didn’t know how to cook one – the shame!

In the beginning of the semester, I entered UCC’s cafeteria, strolled through the buffet about five times, staring curiously at the various offerings, but I always ended up with a cup of soup and some brown bread. I had such a hard time finding the right food that I thought I would starve and my health-nut habits went down the drain as I spread heaps of butter on my brown bread for sustenance. Don’t think I am not embarrassed about this, I am. But I thought I would be honest. I was in fact human, young and naive, it was the first time I had left the country (aside from the random road trips to the rinks of Canada for my little brother’s hockey tournaments when I was a kid) and the fact that I chose to get out of my comfort zone in an effort to learn a new culture must redeem me…right?

Anyway, I ended up building a routine, slowly diving in to try new things and believe it or not, I started eating three, square meals a day – with a lot of Murphy’s stout in between – my health-nut habits were long gone by then.

When most think of the food Ireland, they think of potatoes. But when I think of the food in Ireland, I think of the minute details that I didn’t get to enjoy almost every single day growing up in the States. I think of the fact that tuna sandwiches come with a touch of corn (which I love!), the fact that you can find curry fries almost anywhere on the streets after the pubs close, the fact that no matter what kind of soup you order, it will come pureed and almost identical to the other flavors on the menu, but no matter what kind you choose, it will be the best soup you’ve ever had. I think about the fact that it is normal to put milk in tea (just like my mom taught me how to drink it) and the time that Lisa, who was studying there with me, and I would make a simple pasta sauce from scratch because we couldn’t stand the stuff in the jar.

It is funny how you take what you have grown up with for granted to explore what was not readily available. For example, I eat so much pasta as an adult, sometimes even two nights in a row despite the appalled looks from my mom, simply because it was rarely put in front of me growing up. But now that I am struggling through my pitiful efforts to be experimental with food, I am coming to realize that I am longing for the simple solution that has always been available to me no matter where I have lived – the potato.

Potatoes are inexpensive, you can do so many things with them and they are delicious. I have since learned how to cook them. Last night when I was making baked potatoes I had to call my mom to double check one thing because I trust her more than the recipes online, but they turned out great.