Following my recent blog about reading in the lavatory (as Nancy Mitford would say) I want to give you a progress report- on my reading of the complete works of Shakespeare.

At the moment I am deep into Hamlet- a play which at the age of about 16 I had a small part in act 5, so I became very familiar indeed with the play as I waited, each night , for my entrance.
I got stuck into Polonius’s speech of advice to Laertes today.

Now before he goes into the boring bit about borrowing and lending (unbelievable that this was learned by heart by every banker and builder of a certain age in Ireland ) Polonius has a bit of advice about his dress sense to his son :

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy ; rich not gaudy.
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station,
Or of a most select and generous, chief in that.

There you are lads, that says it all.
Polonius , you see, was the Gok Wan of his day.

But it was not these words of wisdom that struck me, in the loo , about this man today; it rather was that he really was, almost single handedly , responsible for poor old Hamlets final tragic end.

If he hadn’t gone buggering about behind the Arras, eavesdropping on Hamlet and upsetting him, Hamlet would not have stabbed him , Ophelia would not then gone and drowned herself in her grief and Laertes would not have fatally wounded Hamlet in a duel.

As I said ; it was all Polonius’s fault.

Today, all day , there has been a song running endlessly through my head.

Half remembered phrases ;

“So she washed the flowered curtains
Hung them in the wind to dry,
Washed the table with his shirt and
Waved another day good-bye”

Eventually the pieces clicked into place.
The song was Marcie
a sort of Eleanor Rigby about a lonely lady and it was from
Joni Mitchell’s first LP which I had wallowed in in my first year in Dublin,
in a bedsitter in Anglesy Road , attending UCD.
I was lonely, but not as lonely as Marcie .
She helped somehow.

I found the words on the net, they are clever and are worth giving in full.

Marcie in a coat of flowers
Steps inside a candy store
Reds are sweet and greens are sour
Still no letter at her door

Someone thought they saw her Sunday
Window shopping in the rain
Someone heard she bought a one-way ticket
And went west again

Come on all you artisan cider makers.
What an opportunity to make a “champagne of ciders ” with an immaculate Irish pedigree and what a name .

(And I checked with Seedsavers , they have the seeds ) !

This is my favourite entry (so far ) in the online OED.

coccagee, n.
Forms: Also cock a gee, cokaghee, cocko-gee, cockygee.

Etymology: modern Irish cac a’ ghéidh: goose dung, from its greenish-yellow (‘goose shit’) colour.

A cider apple formerly in high repute; also, the cider made from it.
In A Treatise on Cyder-making 1753 p. 23 it is said:
‘This fruit is of Irish extraction, the name signifying in that language Goose-turd.
Counsellor Pyne, who resided near Exeter, and who had care of Sir William Courtenay’s estates in Ireland, is said to have brought it into England.’

1727 H. Stafford Cyder-Fruits Devonsh. in Langley Pomona (1729) 149,
I must mention to you another sort [of cider] which hath not been heard of among us more than six or seven years: The name of it is Cockagee, or Cackagee (for the word, as far as I can learn, is Irish).
The fruit is originally from Ireland, and the cyder much valued in that country.

1837 R. Southey Doctor IV. 382 What in his parlance used to be called Stingo; Stire, Cokaghee, or Fox-whelp, a beverage as much better than Champagne, as it is honester, wholesomer and cheaper.

1862 D. T. Ansted & R. G. Latham Channel Islands iv. xxi. 488 The coccagee carries off the palm for cider.

So now Brian Cowen has finally gone to ground.
What was the straw that broke his back ?

A round of golf.

A round of golf with Sean Fitzpatrick , the most hated man in the country , a man so loathed that at a charity auction Irish people paid good money to be permitted to be the one to press the button to crush his BMW.

I hate to be a post hoc rationalist but I must tell you that since his bank, the Anglo Irish, refused me a loan in 1989 to set up my restaurant I have no love for him or his bank.

Not only did they refuse me money but they permitted me only to ask it of a bank employee so junior that I afterwards discovered her waiting tables by night to supplement her income.

So allow me to indulge in a little schadenfreude at all of their demise.

Just around the village

To the north, Le Mont Caroux , still covered with snow

The Bell Cast roof of our old church,

And the very first Mimosa in a garden , hope for the Spring.

Trawling my way through the OED I discovered that you can actually go through the words with reference to their origins.
There are for instance 1500 words listed which are either of Irish origin or specific Irish usage.

Two of my blog entries refer to my efforts to track down this word, one from November 2007 and the other from November 2008.
I quote them both below.:

November 2007
Stampaí

This all started with a mail from my old college friend, full time anthropologist and part time folk singer, James Flanagan, late of Baile Mhuirne, now of Hattiesburg, Mississippi in the US of A.

Now Jim knows me well, he knows that at least two of my passions are for food and etymology, so when he was dangling the following carrot in front of me he was both going to guarantee he get an answer and also give me hours of harmless fun trying to find same.

Jim wrote :

“I’m doing some Christmas gigs in Michigan with the band Legacy and in my role as MC and continuity man will be singing Amhrán an Steampaí. As you recall from the song it’s a food made with lots of sugar and mouthfuls of brandy with great aphrodisiacal qualities. However, neither Theodora Fitzgibbon nor Darina Allen mentions it in their Irish traditional food/cooking. The first line of the song says Is anall ó Shasana a tháinig an steampaí ‘gus thíos I gCorcaigh a chuireadh an slacht air”. A goggle search turns up a Jamaican dish called Stamp and Go which might well be related. It’s a kind of pancake. Any ideas? Have I piqued your interest?
How’s everybody?
Jim”

Piqued my interest ? I was enthralled.
Partly because I felt I had a rough notion what it was but then had to find chapter and verse.
As Jim said neither Theodora, nor Darina listed it.
Neither did Myrtle Allen, nor Florence Irwin nor could it be found in Alan Davidson’s excellent Oxford Book of Food. I then trawled through Biddy White Lennon’s and John Mc Kenna’s Traditional Irish Food books to no avail. (I am nothing if not thorough)

I then turned to dictionaries.
Chambers was dumb on Stampy as was my large, double volume, Shorter Oxford although that did eliminate Jim’s Jamaican connection (see below).
Then it was the turn of the Irish dictionaries.
The (I would have thought) comprehensive Mr. Dineen couldn’t help me nor could the more compendious O Donaill/De Bhaldraithe, at least not on first reading.
It was in fact there, under a slightly different spelling that I caught my first glimpse of Steaimpí (again see below).
From there it was a comparative doddle to re look at all my previous books, but this time in search of Boxty Cake. Alan Davidson was the man who finally cracked it.
His source was our own Regina Sexton whose Irish Traditional food is hiding somewhere in my shelves (or else on holiday in the Languedoc)

So I was able to reply, an hour or two later, to Mississippi:

“Jesus Jimmy you know my weaknesses.

I have spent the last two hours knee deep in every Irish cookbook
and dictionary I possess.
Focloir Gaeilge Bearla by O Donaill/De Bhaldraithe
provided me with the first reference:”

Steaimpí ……(Ciste) Cake made of grated raw potatoes, ‘Boxty’

“The Shorter OED rules out any relationship with the Jamaican Stamp and Go
as that is a Cod fish fritter taken from on a naval slang term for a command at sea.
I found then it, under Boxty in The Oxford Book of Food:”
“…..another variant dish (of Boxty) called Stampy was made in the same fashion as Boxty Bread but prepared with the new season potatoes and often enlivened with cream sugar and caraway seeds.
In the south west regions (of Ireland) the end of the potato harvest was marked with a Stampy Party when the harvest workers were rewarded with copious amounts of stampy bread.”
Boxty Bread ( I know) is made from a combination of mashed cooked and grated raw potatoes with flour, baking powder and milk.
If you remember the Irish song” Sweet Potato cake”;
(I’m sure it must refer to Stampy)

“Did you ever bring potato cake
in a basket to the school,
Tucked underneath your oxter
with your book, your slate and rule,
And when teacher wasn’t looking
sure a great big bite you’d take,
Of the flowery flavoured buttered
soft and sweet potato cake.”

The addition of Brandy to further celebrate the end of harvest sounds just about right for the people of South West Ireland.
So here is a cobbled together (and totally untried) recipe for stampy.

Steaimpi Uí Fhlannagáin

1lb (450g) Raw Potatoes (peeled and grated)
1lb (450g) Cooked Mashed Potatoes
1lb (450g) Self Raising Flour
2 Teaspoons Baking Powder
2 oz. (60g) melted Butter
4 oz.(150ml) Cream
2 Eggs (beaten)
3oz. (90g ) Caster Sugar
1 Tablespoon Caraway Seeds
2 Tablespoons of Brandy.

Mix all together and make into four balls.

Flatten these into four round cakes and put on greased baking sheets.
Mark with a deep cross so they can break into four farls when cooked.
Cook at Gas 4,175C 350F for 35 to 40 minutes.
Eat hot with (of course!) more butter and a glass of brandy.

(Pay all medical insurance before consumption)
I reckon it was called Steampai becouse it was mashed
(or stamped) before being made.
If you make it, and live let me know and I might try it myself.
(As for its aphrodisiac qualities, discretion is probably the better part of vigour

And could you send me the words of the song as I can’t find it in Google.

Slan
Martin

Which he did:

Amhran an Stampai
From the singing of Sean O Liathain agus Diarmuid O Suilleabhain
on Ceoltoiri Laigheann

Is anall o Shasana a tháinig and stampaí
Is shíos i gCorcaigh a cuirfeadh an slacht ar
Do bhí súicre a dhothain ann is bolmacaí brandí
‘S an té a bheadh ‘na ithe san, ba mhire na an stal é

Is raitheannach……………

And this one from November 2008

Sleevenotes

There is an American/Irish band called Legacy which specialises in Irish Traditional music.
With my old friend Jim Flanagan, they have issued a CD called An Irish Christmas, Music and Songs from West Cork.
I am intrigued to have just discovered that that on the sleeve notes for the song Steampai
I actually get a royal mention!

Voila:

15. Amhrán an Steampaí [Song] (Song of the Steampaí). Having failed to find any reference to this, obviously wonderful, dish in either Theodora Fitzgibbon’s Traditional Foods of Ireland or Darina Allen’s Traditional Irish cooking, Jim turned to his friend from college days at U.C.C., former owner and chef at Dwyer’s of Mary Street, Waterford, and now consultant chef Martin Dwyer. Martin rejected Jim’s initial possibility that ‘steampaí’ might be related to the British Naval/Jamaican dish called Stamp and Go, and went ploughing through his collection of Irish/English and English/Irish dictionaries and his vast gastronomic library to establish a connection to Boxty and to Sweet Potato Bread. The entire story, and a recipe for Steampaí Uí Fhlannagáin (Flanagan’s Steampaí) can be found on Martin’s Blog of November 5, 2007 (www.martindwyer.com) and on Jim’s website (www.flanagansongs.com)

Pretty cool eh!

To celebrate its redesign the OED on line is offering free access to its treasury of over three million entries until February 5th.

Just go to www.oed.com and log on using trynewoed as both user name and password.

Then welcome to word nerd heaven , I’ve been there for several hours already.

Encouraged by our friends in Evening Herault we thought we would try out Chez Moi Chez Toi Restaurant in Beziers last night.
We knew from their piece that it was small and that they cooked over a wood fire.
What we didn’t realise until we got there ourselves was how small this small was.
They have five tables, three twos and two fours which looks like a maximum of 14 diners to us.
One precious wall of the room is taken over by a fairly redundant bar the other wall by a wonderful vine stump fire.

We arrived shortly after seven thirty (noting as we went through the town that all the restaurants were either empty or had a single table sitting .)

We got the very last table in Chez Moi- well OK- the other four were occupied.
It is run by a young couple Sammy in the kitchen and Martine serving and doing all the cooking on the fire. (Sammy wasn’t really much stretched it must be said.)

The menu was €14.50 for two courses (with a couple of small supplements ) and the small wine list had a litre of house red for €11.00.- incredibly good value.

I had a puff pastry tart of delicious black pudding to start (€2 supp.) and followed that by a brochette of tender beef which was cooked on the fire next to us.
(The fire it must be said was also welcome as a great source of heat on this cold winter’s night)
Síle had a spatchcocked Quail, also cooked on the fire which she said was delicious.
I finished up with a Macaron (one o only) which was a light almond and raspberry cake which was perfect, and the meal for the four of us was €87.
Three courses each and a litre of red wine.
At this stage we had made friends with Martine who took a sheaf of cards for the chambre d’Hote and gave us a freebie of a glass of apple schnapps each.
She has perfect English and was quite the friendliest waitress we have met since we came here.
Great value, great ambience , lovely fresh simple food.
We will certainly be back.

Today was , I decided , going to be a cooking day.
This is the only way I can recharge my cooking mojo from time to time.
I decided to make two lots of bread , my normal seedy nutty brown and a new mildly buttery white I wanted to experiment with.

Also I wanted to make some more icecream in my new machine, this time I decided to make a vanilla (but flavoured with the real thing)

So there I was about an hour ago , both breads in the oven and gently scenting the house (You know what they say , if you want to sell a house bake bread when the buyers call) and my churn just getting my icecream to a state of shining perfection when there was a ring at the bell.
It was two ladies , one of the village whom we hadn’t met before and one stranger.
They were thinking of booking out the house for a birthday party in March and wanted a look around.

I went up stairs to collect my madame (who has the better French ) but by the time we came down they were ours.

Le Pain ! La Glace ! Superb ! Quelle aromes !

As they left a few minutes later (having also fallen in love with the bedrooms )
one of the ladies gave me a little hug !
There is no doubt in my mind that the way to enthrall a French Lady is with a whiff of Le Bon Pain.

My old old friend Isabel Healy-Kelly-Duggan with whom I have been friends since around the mid sixties in Cork , is , like myself , addicted to all things second-hand, vide-greniers, brocantes, car-boot-sales, even rummaging in peoples rubbish.
(It must have been something in the water along with the flouride in Cork in the sixties.)

Now Isabel has spotted something which I have noticed often in Vide-Greniers here which I have never managed to think up a use for.

There was (even could be; is,) a passion for making copies of Old Masters and Scenic Views in tapestry here in France.
Once made, and framed , and inherited they often hit the sales.
That there is no market for them now is evidenced by their prices, rarely over a euro or two for something that must have often taken Madame (or Monsieur )weeks or months of painstaking work.

Isabel, never a lady who would look twice at a bargain, has a good eye and an ability to think laterally on occasion (as well as being a dab hand with the needle)

Just look at what she is doing with these masterpieces :

How’s that for cleverness !