It started with a kiss...
Actually, no. It didn't. It started in the kitchen in the back streets of a dirty wee midden which goes by the name of Roscommon, back in the day when the little singing fella and I were no more than probably knee high to the mammy's apron. One of us, sadly, still is.
In the early 80s, back when Map still had the type of face you could only find in the reflection on the back of a tablespoon, his bright mop of ginger hair mottled and tightly curled. We would both sit in the mammy's kitchen praying that between her kind self, the co-op and the good lord we would have our bellies filled by something nice and wholesome to stave of the cauld. Me, with the good book open in front of me, himself with a drippy nose and freckles the size of the pennies upon a dead mans eyes.
We were seldom disappointed. Money was always in short supply, there were no many treats for two such wicked Catholic boys growing up in rural Ireland. The staple diet was the humble, traditional dish of tatties, and by jingo we loved them. Our favourite was of course the nourishing Murphy bread. Made in the traditional Irish way, with freshly mashed potatoes, this soft, light bread has a superbly rich flavour and moist texture. It’s at its grandest when thinly sliced and used for delicate sandwiches, or toasted and spread lightly with goose liver pate. The potatoes greatly improves the keeping qualities of the loaf and there was always plenty left for the faither when he got home fae his work.
Time marches on and trends as well as postcodes have changed. I never quite realised my boyhood calling as a priest. A boys dreams rarely came to fruition in an impoverished rural Ireland. As for the little fella, well.. he did make it to being a masseuse for a wee while, but the incident with his maths teacher just didnae add up. 'Practising', as it is still referred to by the few that know, but only when he is out of earshot or drunk, usually both, normally by his fifth pint of the black, or his second sniff of the gold.
Right so. To bring a wee bit of Irish culture into the lives of you non-Celtic heathen hordes fae the both of us, here's the recipe for you to hopefully enjoy.
You will need these.
400 g (14 oz) floury,waxy potatoes, scrubbed and cut into large pieces
700 g (1 lb 9 oz) strong white (bread) flour
1 tsp salt
good handful of easy-blend dried yeast, about 7g
wee pinch of rosemary
a rosary or crucifix (just for authenticity you understand?)