IN DECEMBER, WHEN I have some head space and a break from the daily grind, I reflect upon the unusual trajectory of my life. As I say to friends, neighbours and colleagues, if you had told me in 2000 where I’d be living and what I’d be doing almost a quarter of a century later, I’d have questioned your sanity.
On this occasion, though, after a whirlwind of analysing extraordinary elections and ahead of making a family trip to Washington, DC and my cherished hometown, I am basking in a bit of relative peace and quiet. My thoughts have been revolving around just how good this country has been to and for me.
I was extremely lucky to have had an Irish passport since I was a boy and luckier still that Professor Gerard Quinn took a chance on a young, disenchanted Boston lawyer in search of a new career and offered me a one year fellowship to teach legal research and writing in Galway, my ancestral home, in 2001. The rest is history. They couldn’t get rid of me.
In addition to these and other similarly weighty considerations, I have been pondering more trivial subjects. Like everyone, I have my own peccadilloes when it comes to food and drink, plenty of which – I am reliably informed by my wife – render me eccentric or a total weirdo. Following 12 months of writing about American and Irish politics, I thought this might be a fitting moment to sketch out a few of them and invite the ire of the readership.
First, I much favour corned beef over bacon. In Massachusetts, it is instilled in us that people in Ireland eat corned beef, cabbage and spuds on a frequent basis. That obviously is not true. Bacon, which is entirely different to the greasy, crispy stuff we have in the United States, is the meat in the national dish.
On the flip side, some here insist that they grew up without even having heard of corned beef and never saw it for sale. I don’t understand how. It is available in all supermarkets and butcher shops, and it is a staple item at many carveries. My father-in-law said that it always was.
At any rate, nothing beats the flavour of a perfectly cooked slice of corned beef, ideally with a little sliver of fat at the edges and accompanied by a healthy dollop of English mustard. It is complemented well by potatoes and veg or is excellent in a white bread sandwich. I do enjoy bacon, but if given the option, I will go for corned beef 95 times out of 100.
Second, and this is a close call, I slightly prefer Murphy’s to Guinness. This will probably come as a shock to Darren Cusack and Co at Mulligan’s of Poolbeg Street, Emma Rice and the crew at Wicklow Golf Club and the staff at several other hostelries which I frequent and where I rapidly consume gorgeous pints of Guinness. Yet, I am a huge fan of the sweeter caramel/coffee scent of the stout of the south.
On visits to Cork, I do my best to get into the Hi-B and the Welcome Inn to drink a couple of fantastic pints of Murphy’s, prior to an invariably outstanding meal at Market Lane. I am yearning for it all as I type. A trip to Cork is definitely on the itinerary.
Third, and this one is no contest in my humble opinion, O’Donnell’s crisps are vastly superior to what may be the quintessential Irish brand, Tayto, which countless emigrants home for Christmas surely couldn’t wait to start munching on from the minute they deplaned. I am not saying that Taytos are terrible; they are decent, and I eat too many of them if they are put in front of me.
In taste and in substance, however, they do not compare to O’Donnell’s. On the latter feature, this delicious product derived from Seskin Farm in Co Tipperary is full bodied with a great crunch. Taytos, conversely, can be flimsy and verging on soft.
With respect to the former element, there is a litany of amazing varieties – running from the traditional Salt and Vinegar and Cheese and Onion to Ballymaloe Relish and Cheddar Cheese and Fire Roasted Buffalo Wings. It’s a bad idea to buy a large bag because they are very hard to stop devouring. They don’t last long in our house.
By now, it may be crystal clear as to why my better half and two sons often describe me as a strange individual. Their defamatory accusations aside, I am confident that many of the more sophisticated among you concur with my choices. And no matter what you’re eating and drinking on these lovely, lazy days, I hope you have a wonderful 2025.
Larry Donnelly is a Boston lawyer, a Law Lecturer at the University of Galway and a political columnist with TheJournal.ie.
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