On the Sass of the Irish

Perhaps I have been behaving myself too much lately. My head aches a little and I'm tired. It might be that I am being too nice. Too acquiescing. Overly accommodating. My cheeks are stiff from smiling.

Luckily St. Paddy's day approaches and the great remedy of celebration is at hand.

Three hundred and sixty-four days of the year, my Irish heritage takes the fall for most of my weaknesses -- I am bossy, I have thick ankles and a wild intolerance of even minute forms of oppression. I tend to quick assertions of opinion, I'm consistently overdue at the library, and I have a longstanding fondness for sipping neat whiskey.

We are, my father tells me, potato famine Irish on his side of the family, and on my mother's side, we hearken from lace curtains and violins and the seacoast County of Kerry.

I do know that we are scrappy and political, survivors surely, and that I yearn for the sea now and again, to bask in its lovely, constant motion and the echoing waves. It makes me want to fly.

I also like thick socks and bad weather. And my household is more old fashioned than mod. You've been here. Lots of stray and rowdy children and pets, piles and stacks and rows of books, photographs and plants, old shawls, big kitchen, convivial times, stormy arguments, heady conversations, never dull.

Irish music, of course, is very fine. It organizes the uproar and causes immediate dancing.

Cheerfully, a cook in the thrall of Gaelic music may want, or be compelled to incorporate various backstepping jigs, a few swooning twirls and even some light, trilling vocal accompaniments to the otherwise ordinary meal.

Indulge this person in every possible way. Coax him to the table with Bubble and Squeak, which is also known as Colcannon.

It is humble and homey and has earned the defense of children dear to my heart, who have proclaimed it "not as bad as they thought it would be."

Steam until tender:

5-7 peeled and halved potatoes

Melt in a large, heavy skillet:

1 1/2 Tbsp. butter

Sauté:

1 small, diced onion

1/2 medium, finely shredded green cabbage

When both of these are ready (the cabbage will be still good and green, but slightly tender) add:

1 Tbsp. butter

to the skillet and put the potatoes into it, one by one, mashing them with salt and pepper and a little

milk ( 1/2 C. in all, approximately).

Season to taste -- which means add anything you want: dill weed, paprika, grated cheese, even salsa for the gringo Irish.

Now bake it, right in the skillet at 350 for about 15 minutes whereupon it will form a lightly crusted surface, one of its most winning traits.

Now, you might be wondering, why is it called Bubble and Squeak? Just wait a bit my dear friends, it is the Irish sense of humor.