Magically Delicious!

Today's the day I love to hate, and hate to love. Since I was a boy, St. Patrick's day has been a bittersweet event. While it's nice that in our culture just about the only Saint's day that is celebrated is my own, I've been bombarded by all the horrid cliches and stereotypes that go with it.

Shamrocks; nobody knows what they really are, and few understand their place in the story of St. Patrick any longer. Leprechauns; made out to be cute here in the 'States, but actually figures of menace to most in Ireland. Bad approximations of an Irish brogue; if I hear another person approach me trying to sound Irish and sounding like Scotty from Star Trek I think I'll run screaming into the road.

Then there are the snakes. My dear mother, who after all named me Patrick, made a point when I was a kid of buying me a really huge rubber snake every March 17th. While I continue to be amused by the Far Side panel illustrating St. Patrick literally driving the snakes from Ireland, I'm tired as hell of explaining the metaphor of non-Roman Catholic Christianity that the snakes actually represented to the Roman Bishop we all know as St. Patrick. He was a bit of an ecclesiastical thug.

Nice outfit though. I do dig the green wardrobe thing.

Worst of all is the corned beef, cabbage, and green beer. Thankfully in recent years people have mostly abandoned the green beer in favor of a good stout. While I'm not a Guinness man myself (I rather preferred Murphy's when I used the stuff) at least it's honestly Irish. Corned beef and cabbage though is entirely an American thing, not unlike parades on St. Patrick's day. Don't get me started on Lucky Charms.

One year in March I had to write a letter to my oldest daughter's teacher, correcting her lesson in Irish history that was concluded by the sentence "It's a good thing those Irish had all those potatoes or they would have starved." I am not making this up.

Celebrate being Irish we do though, so our family went out in a cold rain (now THAT'S Irish) to do our bit. There were no pipes. There were only miniature Irish flags. There was lots of beer, corned beef, and cabbage.

Robin and the kids have heard me go off on this little speech every year, so by this time they know I'd rather be anywhere than a pub, eat anything but corned beef, and no I don't want to watch "Darby O'Gill and the Little People".

So Robin made soda bread to go with our chicken dinner. For those who don't know, soda bread is a bit of magic, as it's risen with just soda (hence the name of course) and no yeast. It's fast, it's cheap, and it's really really delicious.

We did add some potatoes, so we didn't starve.

Viva los San Patricios!