These were the tiles in the downstairs loo in our house in Plouezoch.
I have always loved this pattern, its shades of Escher, Dutch Interiors and yes, Caitriona’s photo-blog of last week.
I lay down on the floor late one night , at a time when I should have had more sense to take this.
If you look carefully you will see that the tiler made a mistake on the left hand side.
I think it adds to it, -150 years later.

Last week, with Sile, my sister D,her husband Milo,
and our friend Mary Dorgan, was spent in Brittany.

Milo, Mary, Sile and D

We rented this lovely Breton house in the village of Plouezoch.

Despite my friend Isabel calling Brittany
“West Cork with Croissants” It has loads to offer.
If only it was a little warmer it would be perfect.
As often in France the beauty is in the tiny carefully preserved details.

Even the shutter stoppers were individual and original.

And in fairness to Brittany we were able to eat in the garden
…..sometimes.(well once actually!)

The garden had a superb Mimosa, the first one I had seen flowering
as it does this in the spring.

And magnificant Primroses, all over Brittany.

The local town in Plestin Les Greve had a terrific market.

Which was where I photographed this button stall.

The nearest large town was Morlaix.
This is dominated by the Victorian’s version of the
Pont de Garde

Viaduct Morlaix

The church of St. Mathieu had this wonderful Breton Saint
who is (of course) the Patron Saint of headaches

Nearer to us was the incredible , vast and mysterious
Tumulous of Barnanez.

And out in the bay the menacing prison Fortress of Taureau, or
Bulls Fortress (which only stopped being a prison 30 years ago)
Seeing a local Creperie called the fort’s Breton name ;
Castel de Tarv
reminded me how close Breton and Irish could be.
The Irish for bull is tarbh, pronounced tarv.

Brittany in spring is covered in Primroses.

And every church has its own Calvary.
Some quite sinister

Like this one in Plouezoch.

But the highlight of the trip was a trip to the village of Plougrescant.
This had a fabulous and wierd church.

The crooked spire was a later addition which for some
reason maintained its perpendicular against the subsidence
of the church.
We were taken around the church by a wonderful local lady,
hugely proud of its ceiling paintings, which had been
“painted over” at a couple of centuries ago
by a moralistic parish priest.

His efforts of giving all over body stockings of fig leaves
to Adam and Eve to hide his parishioners blushes were
strangely modern looking.

But this wonderful cottage nearby, propped up by huge boulders,
was the photo opportunity of Brittany.

And then back to Ireland on Brittany Ferries Pont Aven.
(A great trip, good food too!)

Coming back to Cork it was good to see Cobh doing its own
to promote the image of Ireland.
Wonderful vari-coloured houses.

Its always good to get home.
And the Amaryllis had produced its other two offspring
to welcome us back.

Quote from flamboyant TV presenter Adam Hart-Davis in this mornings (English) Independent:

“I tend to testiculate – I wave my arms a lot while talking bollocks”

About four years ago our friend Finola gave Sile a present of this Amaryllis.
Because Sile has incredible green fingers it still flowers dutifully every spring.
This year it is carrying three flowers.
Beautiful isn’t it?
We are off to Brittany for a weeks holiday/wine buying/ acclimatisation.
Be expecting some Breton blogging next week.

I had two books which I had to read over the last couple of weeks.
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote for review on the radio and On Beauty by Zadie Smith for my book club.
As they used to say in the Matric: Compare and Contrast.

In Cold Blood, for those of you who weren’t reading in the Sixties, is the factual story of a family in small town America, wiped out , more or less without motive by two young men.
Truman Capote, at this stage a young author and reporter, decided to write this up in an attempt to understand this terrifying act of violence. The current film Capote (which I haven’t seen yet) is based on this.
It is a brilliant book, Capote writes so well that I would have been quite happy to drop everything for twenty four hours just to read.
He understands that to make this subject capture the reader it is essential that we engage with the two protagonists, we do this by a close examination of their backgrounds but principally by studying the minutiae of their lives and their relationship up to, during and after this crime was committed.
Capote is incapable of writing a duff sentence, every thing is telling and true but he uses a few tricks of the cinema to make this retelling more gripping.
He cuts backwards and forwards between the victims and the perpetrators of the crime, and then between the perpetrators and the pursuing police in a masterly fashion. I found it impossible to put the book down, and if I did my heart was thumping with excitement.
But of course there is a solid and humanising message behind the thriller.
Today it is commonplace to try to use understanding to forgive, this was more of a pioneering notion in the sixties and Capote makes this point well and without sentiment.

On Beauty, on the other left me totally cold.
Smith makes no secret of what she is attempting to achieve.
She declares in the introduction, that the book is a homage to E.M.Forster, and particularly to Howard’s End.
Unfortunately, as with most of the modern attempts of comedies of manners, she decides to set this in the hot house , not to say Mandarin atmosphere of an American University. This particular breed with their rivalries and pettiness I find a huge turn off. The rest of the book was read through jaundiced eyes as a result.
It was critically acclaimed when it came out and praised as a comedy.
I wish I could have found even one small moment of laughter in it.
She satirizes all of her principal characters and, frankly, I disliked the whole lot of them . As they were put through their various hoops I felt nothing except profound embarrassment. I think only a cynic could have laughed.
Her problem seemed a total inability to engage with any of her characters, and then of course neither could the reader.
Compare with Capote’s skilful, but unsentimental ability to make one sympathetic to even hardened criminals.
I have no doubt that Zadie Smith has a good book in her.
My advice to her would be to stop reading Forster and Updike and start reading Capote.

Since I have decided to grant the bold Olaf a second crack at hitting the history books by naming an egg dish in his honour, I thought it only fair to find out a thing or two about him.
Up to this I only knew that there is a chapel in Waterford , now deconcecrated and used for Irish dancing classes, which bears his name, presumably something to do with our Viking past.

Well he turns out a bit of curates egg himself.

Known also as Olaf Haraldson, Olaf The Fat and (my personal favourite) Olaf the Thick, he was the first Christian King of Norway (from 1015 to 1028) and died trying to impose the same religion there by the sword.
Thus the (Vatican recognised) sainthood, he comes out as a Christian Martyr.

So far so good.
If you examine the Eggs Olaf recipe and consider the amount of butter and eggs in it,it seems that he, as in Olaf the Fat and indeed Olaf the Thick, is a natural for it.

Apparently he is usually depicted carrying a food basket as a symbol of charity.
(Another plus.)

His other patronages are a little more difficult to tie into a breakfast dish though.

He is the patron saint of both Norway and of Kings, fair enough as he could lay claim to both.
Also (presumably because of the huge sword he carries) he has one culinary connection.
He is the patron saint of Carvers, close to catering OK but not much good for Eggs.

His last patronage is even more inappropiate for a breakfast dish.
(One which I saw as, perhaps, being carried upstairs on the morning of Valentines Day.)
He is the Patron Saint of “Difficult Marriages”.

But then maybe he has the fixings of same, in the Eggs?

Marriage Counsellors please note.

I gave out my recipe, for once 100% original, for Eggs Olaf here last Thursday.
Out of idle, but vain, curiosity I Googled it this morning.
The recipe has already been copied by eleven sites, most of whom do give me credit, but some who don’t.
I consider myself flattered.

I love this opera.
Mozart produces one stunning song after another out of his hat. It sings along so well that I have never seen or heard a production which wasn’t enjoyable.
One difficulty is the overture.
This is a superb piece but, to be sat down before the closed curtains of a stage, for about 15 minutes, when one is in anticipation of the visual treat of a Figaro always seems to be a bit hard on the audience.

Last Saturday afternoon BBC 2, in the guise of David McVicars production resolved this dilemma beautifully.

When Sile and I were suddenly trapped in London in February we tried to see this production but couldn’t get in so it was a delight to see it hitting the screen so soon.
We taped it and watched it last night.

What Mc Vicars did for the overture was to open the curtains on the operas setting of the interior of a large Spanish manor house.
Then he gave us a wonderfully atmospheric pageant of the servants preparation for the day, the cleaning, delivery of food, and various bits of business between the servants including the totally appropriate debagging of Figaro on his wedding eve.
Just as the overture doesn’t contain any of the music of the opera, it just works to get one in the mood, so did this scene.

The whole production was also excellent, and would have been electric on a live stage.

I must confess I still can’t understand what is happening exactly in the last act but I feel sure that most people can’t.
The amount of bluffs and double and counter bluffs make the mind boggle.
This never interferes with my enjoyment in the least.

Isn’t it great when you get somthing for nothing.
This Periwinkle has decided to escape from the captivity of one of our neighbours gardens and self seed in a crack of our nasty concrete block wall.

I hope it manages to survive.

This all started during a maritime festival in Waterford, about 10 years ago, when TV3 asked me to cook up a breakfast dish, related to the area, live , from an Irish naval vessel moored in the docks.
I had just had some good Eggs Bededict cooked by a friend of mine so decided to do a Waterford variation of these.
Eggs Benedict, an American breakfast dish, is a toasted muffin with some cooked ham on top, a poached egg on top of that, the whole masked with with some fresh warm hollandaise.
My variation was to substitute a potato cake for the muffin, some smoked salmon for the ham and to add some herbs to the hollandaise to make it green.
I decided to call this Eggs Olaf, Olaf being a saint with some Waterford connections.

If I may say so myself it turned out pretty tasty.
It has become a Dwyer brunch for special occasions.
This morning being such a one.

Having persuaded various members of my family down to see the production of The Armed Man in Waterford with which both Sile and I were involved. (See previous entry) I felt a reward should be offered.
That is how we ended up poaching 14 eggs for a rather large Eggs Olaf Brunch this morning.
My daughter Eileen agreed to take a photo of one of the finished articles.
You can use this as a visual aid.

And here is the recipe for those of you brave enough to try it.

My advice would be to make up the potato cakes well in advance as they reheat well in a warm oven.
All the rest has to be done with your guests sitting and waiting.
They won’t mind I promise.
The end justifies the wait.

Eggs Olaf
(For 4 polite or 2 hungry)

8 Large Free- Range Eggs
4 Slices Smoked Salmon
225g (8 oz.) Mashed Potato
Bunch of Chives
Bunch Parsley
12 leaves of Sorrel (or spinach)
1 Lime
110g (4 oz.) Butter
110g (4oz.) Pinhead Oatmeal
Some sunflower oil for frying.

Chop the herbs together and divide in two.
Save one half for the sauce.
Mix the other half with the mashed potato and make it into four fairly flat cakes.
Beat one of the eggs and dip each of the cakes in this and then in the oatmeal.
Fry these in a little oil in a hot pan until brown and crisp on the outside.
Keep these warm.

Chop the smoked salmon into thin matchstick pieces.

Now make the green hollandaise sauce.
Tip the yolks of three of the remaining eggs into a liquidizer with the herbs and the grated rind and juice of the lime.
Whizz these to make a smooth green mixture.
Melt the butter and dribble into the still whizzing eggs.

Now while that sauce is still warm poach the eggs.
Bring a pot to the boil with a tablespoon of vinegar.
While it is simmering gently insinuate four eggs gently into the water and poach until just cooked (about 1 ½ mts.)
.

To assemble the dish.
Put a potato cake on 4 warmed plates.
(Or two on two for the hungry)
Scatter the smoked salmon on each potato cake.
Put a poached egg on the salmon and then spoon over the hollandaise sauce.

Serve immediately.