Just returned from a fabulous 10 day tour of the beautiful country of Ireland. We have been looking forward to this trip for over a year and it finally arrived. We and 30 other people from my community traveled to Ireland and spent countless hours together. It was so much fun, but as you can imagine, I’ve got some things to say about the trip over the next few weeks and I feel compelled to start with “food and drink”. I am a pretty simple girl, with pretty simple food tastes, but when I travel I like to be open minded to other cultures and experiment a little. However, I do have my limits and I’ll get to that.

Our first night in Ireland we were taken to an Irish pub for dinner and then we got to see an Irish show of song, dance and a wee bit of story telling. The first thing we learned was to never let the truth get in the way of a good story. That was our mantra for the time we were there. We had a choice of three entrees to eat so my decision was pretty simple, but when the waiter asked if I wanted a “pint” I was in limbo. I’ve heard of a pint but how much is a pint. It seems terribly big to me. I mean if he had said would you like a cup, 2 cups or half a gallon then I could have related. I decided I would just have a simple beverage and I let someone else order the “pint”. Then I heard the waiter tell someone else they could have a “half pint”. OMG, what is that! Someone in our group got brave and ordered the “half pint” of Guinness. I was very curious to see it and when it arrived, I knew right then, I could handle a half pint. Lesson learned for day one.

Breakfast was provided each morning at each hotel. Our tour director would tell us what time our breakfast started and what time the bus departed each day. Well in order for me to be ready I would get up about 30 minutes before Keith. Our Irish bathrooms were not really “two butt” bathrooms so we had to get ready in shifts. Since I am a caffeine junky and I need caffeine immediately upon waking, this always presents an issue when I travel. Most of the time, there is a coffee pot in the room and I just make me a little cup of coffee and my day can begin. Well I noticed a little coffee pot looking thing there on our first night, but didn’t really explore its options until the next morning, when quite frankly, it was too late. I couldn’t figure that thing out and I did not want to start my day in a lack of caffeine fog/headache. Herbalife Liftoff to the rescue. Plopped one into water and that became my first cup of coffee each morning until I could get to breakfast.

Breakfast each morning consisted of eggs, rashers, sausages, black pudding, cold cereal, toast, scones, croissants, fruit, yogurt and porridge. So right off the bat there are three things that strike me as odd; rashers, black pudding and porridge. When I looked inside of the container that said “rashers”, it appeared bacon-like, but different. Indeed that was what the Irish refer to as bacon, me not so much. The big black kettle of porridge, was actually their version of oatmeal. Whew, I’m safe. I can have some oatmeal every morning. But then there is a container with what looks like a muffin type substance labeled “black pudding”. Ok, it does kind of have a black color, but nothing about it is pudding-ish. You know the phrase, “when in Rome.” Well that doesn’t always speak for me. I let the black pudding muffin stay put until I knew more.

As you might imagine, the breakfast tables were all curious about this “black pudding thing”. Now I cannot relate to you exactly what David our tour guide told us, but here’s what Wikipedia says about “black pudding.

Black pudding, otherwise known as blood sausage, is a dark sausage stuffed with animal blood seasoned and cooked with fillers such as bits of meat, suet, oats, or barley and congealed until solid. Although this dish is normally made with cow or pig blood, it can also be made with the blood of ducks, geese, and lambs. The fillers, seasonings, and type of animal blood used vary according to regional tastes and local availability.

Um. no, I’m not eating that……I’ll stick with porridge please.

Our first day, we were in the beautiful city of Dublin. Keith and I were very brave and we strolled through the streets like a pro, to us only I’m sure. Every time we stopped to check our map it was evident that we were tourists and each time I opened my mouth to speak, “I” had an accent. Yes “I” apparently have an accent. What we discovered very quickly was that American culture was alive and well in Dublin, Ireland. We stopped in a little convenience store for sunglasses and there was a cooler with all the amazing Irish beverages AND Budweiser and Coors Light. Strolling through the streets of Ireland we got a whiff of fresh bread baking. Oh my goodness, what was this wonderful smell? Where was it coming from? We turned to find the wonderful smell was from a Subway Deli. Down the block you could stop in at a McDonalds or a Burger King. After miles of walking we came upon my favorite bit of America, a Starbucks. In we went for a Chi Latte. No quite weaned off American cuisine yet. This is where I learned I had an accent. When we told the young barista we were from Ardmore, Oklahoma, she asked if it was near Tulsa. When I explained we lived in south central Oklahoma near the Texas border. Her reply to me, “Oh, I hear it now.”

We visited the beautiful little community of Kilkenny a few days later. It was a short little bus stop on our way to the Blarney Castle, where Keith was determined to kiss the Blarney Stone. We were wondering through this adorable little town we can came upon an eating establishment that’s name was “Paris Texas Bar/Smokehouse”.   Wow, do many people in Ireland know there is a Paris, Texas? Better yet, has anyone in Ireland ever been to Paris, Texas. Well we have and maybe the owner of this establishment. We were getting a little hungry and we stopped in this cute little bakery. I ordered coffee (of course) and a freshly baked warm fruit scone (which looks as tastes like a biscuit). Keith had his daily dose of vegetables, he had carrot cake.

We continued on to Blarney Castle and had a wonderful visit. I wondered around and took pictures while Keith got in line to kiss the stone. While I was waiting for Keith, I pulled up a chair in this cute little outdoor café. Pretty soon I noticed I was not alone. Just over my shoulder were two of Ireland’s Wal-Mart birds. You know, those scraggly little birds you always see picking up pieces of food in the parking lot. Well these guys were not scraggly and I think had they wanted the food in someone’s plate, they could have made you move. They made me want to move and I had no food in front of me.

We pulled out of Killarney one morning headed for the Ring of Kerry. Our tour guide told us we were going to be stopping shortly at a place that was going to give us free Irish Coffee. I was a little worried. A friend of ours had tried Irish Coffee at the hotel our first night there and I watched his face as he drank it. Wasn’t a good face. But here I am in Ireland, shouldn’t I try Irish coffee? I mean I do love coffee, even though the coffee in Ireland was way stronger than I was used to. As we entered the shop, this adorable young man was standing there with glasses full of hot, fresh Irish Coffee. OK, I’ll try it. OMG! It was amazing. The whisky taste was nonexistent and the whipped cream on top was awesome. Apparently they knew how to make Irish Coffee better here than in our hotel. I must learn how to do this at home.

A few days later we visited an actual dairy farm. It was the Molanna Diary Farm and it had been in this man’s family for hundreds of years. They bring tour buses through this small home several times a week. Mrs. Molanna had fresh coffee and again fresh scones ready for us. However, her scones were cut in half with fresh jam and fresh whipped cream. Wow! I know I put on pounds while we were there. Her husband told us about the farm and some great family stories. He had a VERY heavy Irish accent and I caught about every third word.  Now who has an accent?

Keith and I are not much on beer, but we kept trying to give this Irish ale a shot. We would try different types each day and discovered that we kind of liked the pale ales. In fact there were a couple we kind of liked. But one evening at dinner we ordered a Bulmers Irish Cider. That was it. That was our drink. I now need to find it in America. We liked it so much, we even had it with our lunch in the middle of the day when we stopped for lunch at Pat Collins Bar. Oh and it appears Bill Clinton may have also visited Pat Collins bar. They had a signed picture of him in there. Again, America is never too far away.

Stay tuned in the weeks to come for more Irish adventures.