I love St. Patrick’s Day and it’s whole-hearted commitment to some of my favourite things: the Irish people, drinking, dancing, and the total absence of snakes. But I never know exactly how to pitch it when planning how to celebrate the day: I face a weird conflict of very much wanting to join in, but being unsure if I’m actually invited to the party. Outside America (where every holiday is game for whoever wants to dress up or decorate), the celebration of St Paddy’s day is largely limited to the Irish people, and I’m not sure if I count.
I definitely have some of the credentials: the passport, the name whose pronunciation is almost entirely unrelated to the spelling (“Lee-sha”, by the way), the inability to tan and the sprinkling of freckles across the nose which my mum gallantly spent my entire childhood trying to convince me were “cute”. But I’m also missing a few of the key ingredients: I never lived there, the only Irish I know are the swear words, and my accent is so ridiculously RP it wouldn’t have sounded out of place on a BBC broadcast from 1940.
Still, I certainly feel Irish, it’s what I say when people ask me where I’m from, and if I let St. Paddy’s Day slip past totally unregarded, I’d definitely feel like I was missing out. Yet I’m also keenly aware of just how cliché it is to jump on the St Paddy’s Day bandwagon, determinedly telling the barman or bouncer that “I’m Irish” in your heavily American or British accent. In the past I’ve toed the line by partying only if it’s a weekend (when my appearance in an Irish Bar might be natural enough) or through some subtle celebration; a green cardigan, or a piece of celtic jewelry.
I’ve put together a little guide for those of you who are keen to jump on the St Patrick’s Day bandwagon, but are wary of going at it in full-throttle “oirish” regalia. Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh! (via google translate, of couse…)
READ
McCarthy’s Bar: A Journey of Discovery in Ireland, by Pete McCarthy. This truly hilarious account of how Irish-English Pete McCarthy soul-searched and drunkenly-lurched around his native land really resonates with those thousands of people, Irish ancestors solidly in the distant or not-so-distant past, who feel a weird mystic union with a land they’ve never lived in. It’s laugh-out-loud funny, so funny that I really don’t recommend reading it on a bus or train, for fear of making fellow travellers nervously edge away from you. A few of the anecdotes are so structurally perfect that I became fairly convinced that the author was making half of it up, but it’s in true Irish spirit not to let anything so mundane as truth get in the way of a good story.DRINK
If you don’t want to join legions of wannabe-irish reaching for a Green Guinness (which, FYI, is never seen in actual Ireland), but still want to honour the day and it’s admittedly drink-sodden revelry, then you can take a little hop back from cliche by indulging in a round or two of Baby Guinnesses. This is a truly yummy shot-sized cocktail, made by filling a shot glass 3/4 full with Tia Maria (or any coffee liqueur) and topping it with a layer of whipped Baileys (or any Irish cream). The result looks like a tiny little Guinness but, unlike it’s parent drink, doesn’t taste like melted down tarmac.EAT
A full plate of Irish Stew, Colcannon or Boxty might be milking it a bit, but why not start your day on a celtic note with a few slices of Barmbrack with butter? This is a really amazing soft sticky bread made from a tea-infused dough, and mixed with currents, raisins and candied fruit. It’s a lovely way to get your hot cross bun kicks before Easter, and is decidedly Irish (but being more traditionally associated with Halloween than St Patrick’s Day, you can eat it with complete cliché immunity) A lovely recipe can be found <a href="http://eatsamazing.co.uk/recipes-tutorials/my-grans-barmbrack-cake-recipe“>here, or you can find a tasty version in Waitrose.DO
Get up and go to work, ya lazy eejit, it’s a Monday
Get up and go to work, ya lazy eejit, it’s a Monday
Líse McNally 