Champ – Bringing Back Some of Ireland with Me

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I had never heard of champ before asking about it in a quiet restaurant in Glenariff, Northern Ireland. It was listed as a choice of side dish alongside chips, crisps, and veggies. It turned out that it is a mashed potato dish with scallions and a few other things that I couldn’t hear her say.

Mashed potatoes?

In Ireland?

I’m there.

At first I thought it was colcannon, but champ originates in the North and is a Northern Irish dish, and it was delicious. 

It was also different than any of the country mashed I’ve gotten in the US (think Cracker Barrel with gravy) or any I’ve made myself. It wasn’t that I’d never thought of combining these ingredients together, but I was just used to the simplicity of mashed potatoes – butter, milk, salt, crushed under a masher until smooth – ish.

It wasn’t until I did a quick Google search that I saw how simple champ really is to make.

As for our masher, it is almost always at the bottom of the sink or at least it seems that way when I need to use it so I have a few alternative tools to use as mashing tricks.

Large forks are good mashers.

So are large spoons if applied with the right pressure.

And last, my most recent discovery, a copper one-cup measuring cup. This really did a great job.

For my version of champ, I washed, cut, and boiled about seven medium-sized potatoes. I did not peel them, but they can obviously be peeled if you prefer them that way. The ones we had at the restaurant were peeled. Their mash was a perfect creamy white.

After the draining and mashing, I added one stick of unsalted butter, about two tablespoons of salt, three scallions diced as finely as I could get them, and a scoop of sour cream. You could use more scallions if you like. I also didn’t use milk, but it could be added or used instead of the sour cream.

Just before the rest of dinner was ready, I added about 1/4 cup of shredded, sharp cheddar cheese. I used white to keep the color of the potatoes. The topmost photo was taken in bad lighting; I’ll have to correct that when I make them again.

Only the usual suspect (the picky eater) complained despite loving them abroad. Everyone else loved my rendition, and I’m sure they’ll make it into regular rotation.

AllRecipes has a recipe to follow if you like measurements. Usually, I do, but when I’m cooking (rather than baking) I like to gauge how it looks, feels, and tastes.

32/52 – Oatmeal Cookie Surprise

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We had a few minutes before our tour began at the Titanic Experience in Belfast, Northern Ireland and made the decision to preview the gift shop. It was one of those perfect tourist attraction shops that had ranges of items from keeping the peace with the children to native Irish crafts; with prices ranging from  £1 to over £100 for woollens. We took a quick look, made our mental notes of what we definitely wanted to check out, and began our tour.
On coming back down to the shop, the first think that I noticed were the two racks of postcards. After pins, postcards are where my attention goes. Behind those racks were three long shelves that helped to form the checkout line on the opposite side. This side held all manner of small foods – cookies, candy, chocolate, Guinness infused, Bailey’s infused, mints, tins, and the like.

I passed it by about ten times in looking around, and trying to see where my kids had gone, and what they were now begging for, but I kept coming back to the cookies.

I mean, Grace’s Irish Oatmeal Biscuits, made with Irish butter, in the shape of shamrocks – you can’t get much more touristy than that. They were £3. I know I could get biscuits in any grocery, but they wouldn’t be Irish made, shamrock shaped, tourist biscuits.

And £3 wasn’t a bad price for what they were. And the tourist in me really needed to get them.

Instagram, you know.

I bought them, I packed them, I took them home with the rest of my candy.

I finally sat down on a quiet afternoon, and opened the box. Carefully pulling apart the ends, separating the plastic wrapping, I didn’t expect much.

I took a bite.

I sat there, in stunned silence, and took another, smaller bite that I could savor a bit longer than the first.

These were the BEST oatmeal cookies I have ever tasted.

No lie.

The. Best.

I still have two left because I don’t want to finish them.

They’re just the perfect amount of butter, oats, and crunch.

They are truly heavenly.

My recommendation for anyone visiting anywhere in Ireland that sells these is to buy as many as you can squeeze into your suitcase.

Seriously.

30/52 – September

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​It used to be that September was known for Back to School, falling leaves, and colors changing. Even outside of the Northeast, that is the stereotype of fall and September.

Now, and for the last few years we have had what many call an Indian summer. It cools off just enough to lull you into plaid and flannel, and then Mother Nature turns up the thermostat. It’s warmer today than most days this past summer. The first week in September, just a few weeks ago, I thought I was still in Northern Ireland – bright, sunny, occasional rain, and seventy degrees max!

What happened September?

Still, I won’t be stopped from wearing my sweater and my favorite boots to kick around the leaves – red, gold, orange, and yellow, eating an apple right off the tree, or from drinking that often too hot apple cider.

If I stand in the shade, it might just feel like fall.

Books Recs for Rosh Hashanah

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I’ve mentioned before that I always read on the Rosh Hashanah holiday. I am currently either in the middle of or just about to begin three books. I’ll also include ones that I’ve finished recently.

1776 – by David McCullough

1984 – by George Orwell

The Autobiography of Malcolm X – by Malcolm X with Alex Haley

Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood – by Trevor Noah

The Children – by David Halberstam

Cronkite – by Douglas Brinkley

Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention – by Manning Marable

Martin Luther: Renegade and Prophet – by Lyndal Roper

Read my Pins – by Madeline Albright

The Handmaid’s Tale – by Margaret Atwood

The Princess Diarist – by Carrie Fisher

The Zookeeper’s Wife – by Diane Ackerman

Glenariff Falls

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As incongruous as it seems, as much as I have a fear and dislike of water and boats, I really love waterfalls. I also like watching rivers and despite past vertigo at the expanse of oceans, I really loved my experiences in Ireland at the North Atlantic. 
However, more than anything else, it’s waterfalls. As a kid, we visited Niagara Falls every other year, and I took my oldest son there right before he started kindergarten. It was the one place I always wanted to show my kids, and we were able to do that finally, last year. It made such an impact that my daughter asked as we were crossing the bridge back into the United States when we would be visiting again! 

When our kids were young, we lived in a small city that had a waterfall that was the Niagara Falls of its day (the turn of the 19th century), and I loved visiting there just to watch the falls flow gently over the side and crash loudly on the rocks below. They were nothing like Niagara, but It was so close that I could visit frequently, and it was a safe place during the height of my depression.

I was excited when our cousin, Christine told us about a trail that led to a lovely waterfall nearby on the way to the Giant’s Causeway, our Friday destination. She wrote down the directions which seemed easy enough, and off we went on our Coast Road adventure!

Before putting them safely into the glovebox, I glanced at the directions, and took mental note that after turning left at the sign for Glenarriffe (one of multiple spellings we would see) we would need them again.

It was a very long drive to get to the north coast.

We stopped a couple of times on the way, ending our journey not at the Causeway, but at Ballintoy since it was raining, off and on, as is the custom in Ireland, and it was getting later than we’d anticipated returning for dinner.

About halfway along the coast road, after having only a modest breakfast, we were getting hungry as articulated by the two youngest passengers as only they could do. My oldest son clicked on his GPS and found us a nearby restaurant that we thought wasn’t too far off the road. 

We could break for lunch, and then get back on our way to the waterfalls. I still wasn’t sure that I could physically handle the trail that Christine described, but I still wanted the kids to see as much as they could of their grandmother’s homeland.

My son directed us to the restaurant, which was simply turn left and follow the road to practically the end. The restaurant also had sleeping accommodations, and a gift shop. The huge windows of the restaurant, Laragh Lodge, backed up to the forest, and there was a sign and a trail to the Glenariff Forest, and another beyond that on a wooden bridge called Waterfalls Walk. I was thrilled that we’d found a back way in so we wouldn’t have to figure out how to get the the trail on our directions after eating!

It began to rain right before we parked, but it wasn’t far to walk to the entrance, and I had my umbrella. We knew from previous experience that the rain would be short-lived.

We had a really delicious lunch – all of the food on this trip could only be described as amazing. Not only the restaurant food, but the home cooked meals that we had with our cousins. Here, I had chicken goujon with champ and a salad garnish.

Beginning top, left to right: The Laragh Lodge restaurant, the sign upon entering the grounds – my family made me read it twice, the back of the restaurant they faced the forest, Swan on the entry post, Mountain and perfect blue sky, chicken goujon with champ and salad garnish, the inside of the restaurant. (c)2017


As we finished eating, my daughter and I headed straight to the gift shop as the rest of our group headed towards the dirt path to the forest. I had to dig deep into my coins and I still didn’t have enough. The woman behind the counter let it go. She was very kind. It was so hard to choose which items we wanted, and my daughter was in love with the unicorns and fairies.
As soon as we left the small shop, I could hear the river and the falls, and the sound of the water soothed me. I had to pause. As we got closer to the wooden bridge, I was enveloped in the sound of the rushing river, and the darkening of the trail as the trees knitted their branches overhead creating a high canopy that separated into two trails, one that led uphill and the other down. My husband and older son had already gone up, and I chose down, thinking that it might be a bit easier for me.

It was, but coming back up not so much!

I could see the falls through the trees as the trail curved, and there was a handrail for part of the walk down. I was so close that I couldn’t not go all the way down to the falls.

They were the most perfect forest falls. Water coursing down the rocks, surrounded by grass, larger stones, and trees, landing gently at the bottom, like a fairy glen. I could almost picture the ancients coming to the base of the falls to gather jugs of water, bathing, and swimming. Of course, this part of Northern Ireland is known as the Nine Glens of Antrim and faeries are a popular treasure here.

We stayed for a bit. My kids stepped back, knowing that this was a place that I wanted to relish in the quiet sounds of the forest. Looking up, I could see the rest of the group on the trail just above the falls. I only considered meeting them up there for a moment, but then quickly decided that I was happy right where I was.

Glenariff Falls and Me. (c)2017


I just enjoyed leaning on the railing that separates the rock we were standing on with the water and the falls, and just listening to the water flow and land at the bottom, feeling the cool breeze through my hair on my face, letting the spirituality of this sanctuary emanate and inspire through me.

Glenariff Falls, Glenariff, Northern Ireland, UK (c)2017

This was my place.
Then, it came.

One drop, two at first. I still had my umbrella, fortunately because when the rain came again, it came.

Torrents and heavy, and not even the canopy of trees could keep it from us. It’s what I imagine a rain forest is like, but colder, harder, and  unrelenting. We got back up the hill before it became too slippery, and kept walking as fast as three of us under one umbrella could until we got to the shelter adjacent to the restaurant’s door. We sat there while waiting for the rest of our group – the boys with the keys – to return to the parking lot. They were drenched!

As we made our way back along the road to the Coast Road to continue our journey to the Causeway, I took another look at our cousin’s directions to see how far we were from her trail:

Larne – Coast Road

At sign for Glenarriffe

Turn left.

Take road to 

restaurant half way up hill

Park at restaurant and 

walk round back to waterfall trail

Photo of the directions to the Falls, which we ended up finding by accident. (c)2017


We hadn’t known it while we were following my son’s GPS, but we followed her directions precisely.
Nothing could describe destiny any better than that.

Downtown is Pawsome (Albany, NY)

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Downtown is Pawsome is a sculpture installation throughout the streets of the capital city in homage to Nipper, the RCA mascot who currently resides in Albany. It will remain in place through May 2018.

This event hit my radar quite unexpectedly in the beginning of August, right about when I was looking for something to do with my kids. This came up in my Facebook feed (thanks, Fran!) and I immediately woke my two youngest ones up, and off we went beginning with a McDonald’s breakfast and then surprising them by taking them all the way to downtown Albany.

I also got a parking ticket for our troubles, but considering the rest of the day was free, this was a sacrifice (and a lesson learned) that I have accepted.

(c)2017

(c)2017

(c)2017

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