Savour Kilkenny 2015 (Part 1): Fermenting Facts in The Little Green Grocer

I felt a little nervous for Hayley as she perched herself on a set of steps, and looked down on the sea of expectant faces that gazed up at her. One of the store owners, Eleanor, stood beside her to give her moral, and I presume physical support if need be as the steps looked a little shaky! The shop was packed and I don't think she was expecting such a turnout for her talk on fermented foods, and her business - The Cultured Food Company.

Let's back up a little ...

We - myself and Nige, my long suffering vegetarian sidekick - had taken a break from the Savour Festival proper and made the journey up Parliament Street in Kilkenny to firstly visit one of my favourite bars in Kilkenny - Brewery Corner - and secondly to catch a talk on the fermentation of food stuffs such as sauerkraut and kimchi at The Little Green Grocer.

I must admit to knowing very little about fermented foods, although I did make my own sauerkraut a few years back. I had forgotten about it until I saw the line-up of talks for Savour and this one struck a cord, as it also jogged my memory to a podcast I had listened to about Sandor Katz, a fermentation guru from the US who gave a fascinating talk about fermented food on The Brewing Network.

Brewery Corner was a little quiet, which wasn't surprising given that the food festival was on and buzzing. They slyly tried to tempt me with chalkboard marketed scotch eggs (They must know my weaknesses!) but I resisted and went instead for just a glass of Rascal's Wunderbar, a German hopped IPA with an almost Märzen-like quality that could have been my imagination playing tricks on my palate based on the name. The hops were subtle-ish but gave the beer a certain tropical fruitiness combined with an almost white pepper spiciness that complemented the malt biscuit, er, malt taste. What a beautiful, balanced beer.

We chatted a little with the barman, talking whisky and whiskey among other topics. I was fascinated by a The Peat Monster, a blended malt Scotch from Compass Box. I was drawn by the graphics on the bottle (Forgot to take a photo!) but felt it a little early in the day to be trying anything more than a peaty sniff. Maybe next time ...

It was soon heading towards the time for the talk so we finished our drinks and scarpered up the street to TLGG. We were concerned about space, as it's a smallish narrow shop and wouldn't fit in too many food fermentation fans if the interest in the subject was as strong as I suspected it to be.

The Little Green Grocer is a perfect-looking, pretty shop painted in subtle, suitably greenish-blue colour that gives off an air of understated elegance. Their ethos seems to rotate around the words 'organic', 'artisan' and 'natural', and whatever your feelings about any of those words there is no doubt that from wine to cheese to their deli range, they are standing by their beliefs and succeeding in driving their business based on those concepts, which can only be admired and applauded in my opinion. A look at their Facebook page shows gorgeous, tasty-looking, mouth-watering food that underlines to me the above commitment and passion in what they buy, and then sell.

The shop was pretty packed when we arrived but we squeezed in the back, which turned out to be where Hayley would be giving her talk from anyhow, so our just-in-time arrival had paid off. And so with Hayley perched on her steps, inches away from hair-frizzling spotlights she began her talk.

I needn't have worried about Hayley by the way, as she spoke confidently and knowledgeably, and although I can't repeat all she said verbatim, her belief and passion in her products and in their health benefits shone through in her talk. She went through the probiotic benefits of fermented food, how to make your own, told us how ketchup started as a fermented food, how fermented food like sauerkraut kept scurvy at bay on Captain Cook's ships, how sauerkraut juice has been touted as a hangover cure and what exactly kimchi is, amongst other things. She has loads of information and links on her Facebook page that will give you a much better understanding and appreciation of this enigmatic food group than I could ever give here.

She finished up by offering a tasting of some of her products. The red sauerkraut was sour (Duh!) with an almost bitter-fruit quality that appealed to my not-so-sweet-tooth. But it was the kimchi that was a revelation, as it first seared one side of my mouth and then proceeded to stomp across my tongue leaving traces of chili spiciness and plethora of strong vegetal flavours in its wake. Wow it was hot, but once I was over the original palate jarring sour/heat, the flavours calmed a little and left a wonderful warming bitterness that had me hooked. This was something I needed to try to make myself.

Time was marching on and we had more to see and do at the festival, so buoyed by the excellent talk, great food-infused surrounding - and for once a positive sour taste in my mouth - we said our good byes and thanked Hayley before heading back to the festival.

(24th October 2015)

Addendum ...

Back at home I've attempted my own sauerkraut with red cabbage, mustard seed, juniper berry and caraway seed. I'll let you in on the method and recipe when I see how it turns out!

I might try the kimchi next ...

Liam K.

(Part 2 is here.)

Food: Scotch Duck Eggs with Chorizo, Bacon and Black Pudding

One of my all time favourite food combinations is bacon and eggs.

OK, not just bacon of course but any piggy food products - black pudding with a runny egg yolk is a thing to be revered in our home.

So the thoughts of wrapping a rich duck egg in a duvet of bacon, chorizo and black pudding seemed like a natural thing for me to do.

In fact I'm astounded I never did it before now!

So here we go ...


Ingredients:

8 Duck Eggs
200g Bacon - chopped
200g Black Pudding - chopped
200g Chorizo deskinned and chopped (I wanted to use cooking chorizo but settled on the cured one.)
Half a small Apple finely chopped
Half a small Onion finely chopped
2 Chicken Eggs for binding and dipping
50g finely crushed Crackers for mix
50g finely crushed Crackers for coating
1 big pinch of Black Pepper and a small one of Salt
1 tsp of Sesame Seed
Flour to coat

Method:

• Boil the duck eggs for 9 mins then plunge into cold water and set aside.
• Put the bacon in a food processor and pulse for a few seconds, add chorizo and pulse again. Add the black pudding, apple, onion and blend to a coarse paste.

• Put mix into a bowl with 50 grm of crushed crackers and 1 egg, and mix with your hands into a gooey paste.
• Flatten the mix with a rolling pin between two sheets of clingfilm.
• Peel eggs and dip in flour, wrap the egg in a blanket of mix.

• Dip the covered eggs in flour, then whisked egg and finally a mix of the remaining crushed crackers combined with the black pepper, salt and sesame seed.

• Place on a baking tray and bake at 180C for 30 mins, turning once - very carefully. (I assume these can be deep fried too but I haven't attempted it yet!)
• Leave to cool and then enjoy with mustard mayo and a pint of homebrew stout - or similar!

As usual, feel free to change ingredients to suit your palate!

Liam K.

Travel: Duomo di Milano, Milan's Cathedral - Shock & Awe

Milan's great cathedral - Duomo di Milano - sits on its same named piazza, off centre in the city with numerous ring roads forming partial and wobbly concentric circles around it like a poorly drawn target. I'm not sure if the city realigned itself to the building or vice versa but to be honest, it's such a huge structure that it's possible that there are some kind of slight gravitational force at work - actual or perceived -  causing everything in Milan to orbit around it in some way. We - Nige, Pete and I - were certainly drawn towards it on our first visit to the city, just pausing to drop our bags at our hotel before jumping on a metro heading south into the city centre.

We emerged from our subterranean metro travels on the southwest corner of the square and immediately found ourselves surrounded by tourists, pigeons and hawkers. The tourists went around with their heads in the air or a camera super glued to their fingers, like a scene from zombie movie with people shuffling around brainlessly, the pigeons quick-stepping around their feet with very little grace and certainly no dignity as they pecked at crumbs discarded on the stone slabs. But the hawkers were the worst ... because they really had nothing to sell. There were two types; the first group would offer you a free bracelet of sorts, composed of some strands of twisted plastic, while saying 'Free-Free-Free' but of course once they tied them on your arm they would then ask for a 'donation' and becoming quite aggressive if you refused. The second group gave you 'free' birdseed to feed the pigeons (Why anyone would want to encourage the avian equivalent to the rat is beyond me ...) and then ask for some money to support their family, dog, cocaine habit or whatever.

Anyhow, one end of the square was taken up with the arresting site of the cathedral and although it looked large from a distance, it's only as you start walking towards it, brushing aside the hawkers and pigeons, that you realise just how enormous it is, with those entering and exiting through the doors and the sightseers on the roof pulling the whole edifice into perspective. We slowed to a shuffle looking at the building in awe - like the other tourists I had just disparaged -  then headed towards the entrance, still marvelling at the size of the structure.

The building was started in 1386 and took over 500 years to complete. It has 135 carved pinnacles and has over 3,000 statues, (or 2,000 or 4,000, depending on your source. I didn't count them myself you understand.) more than half of them on the roof. It is crowned with a gilded statue of the Madonna, put there in the 18th century by someone with a good head for heights, as it is 108 metres off the ground. The cathedral itself can hold up to 20,000 people at a push - literally.

The main doors are massive, detailed bronze masterpieces. They must stand, or hang, at least 10 meters high and seem to depict scenes from Christ's life in an almost Art Nouveau style. The hand polished calf of one of the figures - one of the soldiers scourging Christ - shone in the sun from too many tactile touches. The marble surround was equally impressive, depicting fruit, flowers and shells, with the odd cherub for good measure, all carved in exquisite detail.

But you enter by the side doors, past serious looking security personnel, and the contrast from the bright and dazzling exterior to the gloomy almost cavernous interior is disconcerting. It took many minutes for our eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness and the low lighting levels before we could start to look around without walking into something. The lack of internal lighting is obviously to help highlight the stained glass windows, which were vibrant, backlit panels in the murky gloom. Their light falling on the pillars and statues creating more pools of colour in the darkness. Everything from the exquisitely detailed floor tiles to the distant shadowed ceiling was a triumph of splendour and decoration. We wandered around separately from chapel to pulpit, statue to crypt, pointing each other in different directions to different features when we ran into each other.

I encountered poor old St. Bartholomew looking quite morose and serious, which was understandable considering he was wearing his own skin like a comfort blanket. He was allegedly flayed alive in Armenia and then crucified upside down. (There's somewhere I must mark it off my holiday destinations.) This statue by Marco d'Agrate dates from 1562 and seems to show a worrying degree of knowledge of what's under the human skin. One wonders was Marco often to be seen in graveyards with a spade, a scalpel and a sketchpad - digging, carving and drawing with equal enthusiasm.

Each of the separate chapels within the cathedral are masterpieces in themselves, housing paintings and statues of a quality to grace any art museum or exhibition. It is impossible to get your head around the magnitude of the task of creating this place, so I sat for a minute and took in the bigger picture of the whole space. The giant supporting pillars seemed like tree trunks in some petrified primordial forest, their canopies lost in the darkness overhead, or like the set of some Tolkienesque fantasy set in a mythical, troll ridden wood, as Nige put it. Looking up at the enormous entrance doors you could imagine the effect that opening these to let in the visiting bishop or cardinal would have had on an assembled crowd. The sunlight just seeping in through a tiny crack at first and then flooding the whole space with blinding brightness, as trumpets blared and psalms were sung ...

The poor peasants must have crapped themselves.

I left the others and decided to take the stairs rather than the lift up to the roof. After a brief interrogation by the two soldier standing guard at the entrance to the stairway who insisted on me emptying my pockets, I started to climb the well-worn stairs, which wound around the tower and up to the roof. I eventually got to the top, feeling dizzy and out of breath, leg muscles aching and cursing quietly at my lack of fitness for even the most basic of tasks. I leaned at the top of the stairs, wheezing and trying to catch my breath as sprightly 80 year old American ladies bounded past me and on to the roof, looking at me with a mixture of sympathy and disgust.

'Asthma,' I lied as one Italian lady took pity on me and gave me a drink of water and perhaps the last rites, as she seemed to be waving her hands over me in a religious fashion and speaking rapidly in Italian. Only then did I remember where I was perpetrating this deception and that the chances of a lightning strike were considerably higher up here regardless of any other outside influences.

She left me to it and I eventually regained my composure and started to take in my surroundings. The level of detail, even up here, was astonishing. Every nook, cranny and pinnacle had a carving of some description on it and I wondered had there always been access to the roof for the public. If not then this was all done for God to see - presumably. I remember seeing a documentary on early Irish Christian chalices once and the presenter asking some historian why a chalice would be so elaborately detailed underneath where no one could see it. 'Ah, but God would see it!' was his smiling reply, so maybe this was something similar. Or perhaps they were just showing off a bit, as only Italians can do.

I was also surprised that the carving varied so much - from saintly figures to gruesome, gurning faces, and evil looking gargoyles, this place had the lot. Then I caught sight of what looked to me like a stylised, almost Sheela na Gig-like relief on one of the archways I was about to pass under. It stopped me in my tracks - I was surprised that a carving of this type would be on this large cathedral in Italy.

Proper Sheela na Gigs are a figure of debate and conjecture as to what they represent. They are somewhat graphic carvings of a female figure that leaves little to the imagination. I had seen and read about them in various articles and books but thought of them as a mostly Irish phenomena. They are said to represent either; fertility symbols; a survival of pagan worship; a warning against lustful thoughts; protection against evil; or any number of other suggestions that have been thought up by historians over the years. The fact is, nobody seems to know for sure. What a similar figure was doing, flanked by two Pan-like characters with wings, on the roof of the Duomo I don't know. The figure was a little flowerier and less blatant than those I had seen back home but I still wondered what it represented and why it was here.

I suddenly became conscious of the fact that I was staring at a carving of a naked woman. This was reinforced by the tuts of a group of small, wizen English women who had to squeeze past me as I stood on the narrow walkway. I half expected a slap of an umbrella on the back of the head as they passed by but luckily it never happened and I moved on.

There were gargoyles to channel water on the side walls and plenty of other grotesque figures as I walked around. I wondered were these to ward off evil spirits, which seemed to me to be hedging your bets a little and tipping your hat towards paganism ... although maybe, like the Sheelas, we'll never know their real reason for being in such places. Or perhaps I need to read more about Gothic architecture.

The front section of the roof was quite crowded with people, many were strolling around carefully but there were plenty of sun bathers here too, lying on the large slabs of stone that made up the roof itself and taking in the rays. Maybe we hadn't travelled that far from our pagan, sun worshipping past after all? This probably explained the Ray Ban sign, not to mention the rest of the billboards, which could be seen from most vantage points of the roof. On a clear day you can supposedly see the Alps from here but today was a little hazy so the horizon just blended and blurred into a grey nothingness.
I stood and stared up at the Madonna statue that crowned the building, wondering once again how it was hoisted up. I was tens of metres above the ground and the statue seemed as high up again, its gold finish glinting in the hazy sunshine. You could see how it would be a beacon for the worshippers of Milan, visible and sparkling in the sunshine from most areas of the city, before it became the built up high-rise sprawl it was now.

The roof was becoming crowded now and after a final look around, I headed back towards the stairs to descend back down to street level. I was about to begin the easy, gravity-aided descent when I noticed that the walkway also wound around to the back of the church. All the visitors seemed to be heading to the front so I walked against the tide, past the elevator and around the back to the east side of the church.

It was quiet and empty here; no other souls seemed to venture in this direction, preferring the safety in numbers and Piazza view that the west end offered. This was a tranquil oasis right in the heart of the city. I looked out across the void to the balconies of the apartments on the other side of the street. They were almost touching distance from here, their pretty potted gardens had a wonderful view back across at the Duomo, which was as well decorated on this side as on the front. The only sound that could be heard was the occasional dentist-drill-sound of metal on stone, as the conservators worked overhead on scaffolding, and the barely-muted music from their radio, the sound of which seemed a little out of place here.

I spent ages on this side of the cathedral, by myself and lost in thought and admiring the scenery, from the carvings and detail on the building to the view over the rooftops. I turned a corner and caught sight of one of the building I hoped to visit - Torre Velasca. At 100 metres high this medieval looking building with its top storeys jutting out over the floors below, seemingly only support by diagonal props, towers above its neighbours. Built in the 1950s and resembling a siege tower or fortress, it didn't really blend in with its surroundings, as I looked at it over tiled rooftops. But as out of place as it looked I still liked how it stood there, perhaps defiantly shaking its fist in this direction. It could be quite an interesting place to live.

Time was marching on and I would soon have to find the others, so I headed once more to the stairs, on the way staring across at the beautiful people who occupied the balcony of the restaurant of  La Rinacente, one of the poshest department stores in Milan or Italy for that matter. No one looked back at me, they were in their own place of worship I guess.

Back at ground level I went looking for the others, my thoughts on pagan statues and sun-worshipers, wondering where we would eat and what to sacrifice to satisfy our hunger ...

A pigeon maybe ...

 (Visited 2009 - excerpt from a shelved project)

Beer: Irish Craft Beer Festival RDS 2015 - 30 beers, 5 Hours & 4 Glasses

Beer festivals seem to be coming a bit of a 'thing' for me. I look for them and forward to them in equal measure and count down the time leading up to one. I can't get to all of them, as time, money, family life and public transport seem to get in the way of my plans with increasing frequency.

But there are a few I try not to miss, and the Irish Craft Beer Festival is one of them.

It's not just the festival itself but also the trip there, the company and the general feeling of camaraderie that abounds at these events that appeals to me. This year I had managed to rope in three traveling beerites, so along with the almost ever-present Nige I had two other companions, which suited the beer ticker in me as if they were amenable to sharing, it meant that I would be able to quadruple my tastings.

We met at our usual starting point at the local train station and after a small flirtation with a mini-swarm of love-struck wasps and some well deserved abuse of Nige for, well, being Nige we were on our way. The train was relatively quiet considering there was a protest and a rugby match on - they weren't connected to each other by the way - and we arrived in Dublin city centre early enough to grab breakfast and for me to make my usual pilgrimage to Chapters bookshop. Breakfast this time was taken in Anne's on Mary Street, as two of our company wanted a 'proper breakfast'. So I had to forgo my usual coffee and toasted mozzarella ciabatta in favour of a 6 piece breakfast that would set me up for the day.

We decided to meet under The Spire and to catch the bus to the RDS from the top of O'Connell Street, so after dodging the usual fruit and fag sellers on Moore Street on my way back from a rushed trip to the bookshop, I was the first to arrive at our meeting point. I took in the sights and sounds of the city, admiring the pallette of colours that Dublin displayed regardless of the weather. Soon the others joined me. Unsurprisingly Nige was last to arrive.

We waited patiently for our bus and when it arrived we held back as a little old lady hobbled towards the steps. Well we didn't all hold back, Nige barged in ahead of her, oblivious to the world around him or distracted  by the thoughts of the festival. Who knows?

The bus journey was slow and uneventful until we reached Nassau Street and Judge Dredd got on and sat opposite me. Comic Con was also on in the RDS - in another hall - and as I looked closely around I noticed a few other attendees such as a baby dressed as Superman and few other characters I didn't recognise. Judge Dredd had a DIY outfit that wasn't too bad to be fair but he was upset that the holster for his Lawgiver had got ripped on a previous journey. He spent a worrying amount of time talking to a small Judge Dredd figure that seemed to be his mascot, promising it that he would get it a Lawmaster at the exhibition. I felt a twinge of envy as I thought how self conscious I can be but how uncaring this guy was about what people thought of him or how he looked. When we stopped at the RDS I wished him luck with his event and we headed our separate ways, as the beer festival was around the corner in the Industries Hall.

We were very early so there was no queue or hassle getting in, we picked up our glasses - 3 of us upgrading to the fancy stemmed ones, while Nige - naturally - refused to pay the extra 2 euro for the fancier glass. (It was the next day that I realised that the stemmed glasses were also bigger and that many stands were filling them to the top! This might have explained my fuzziness later in the evening, and for the next day or so...)

The layout this time looked better than last year's, with drink stands up the middle now as well as around the periphery. There was still a good deal of space for punters but perhaps a lack of tables? An area for live music was marked out in the centre of the hall and food stalls were set up out the back around a nice marquee with very cool recycled pallet furniture placed underneath for seating. The food offering had increased from last year too, with something to suit everyone I thought.

Some of the stands were still not manned so we did a circuit of the hall to get our bearings - and were struck immediately by the thought that we would not get to try everything, but with 4 of us at least we'd make a good stab at it!

My first stop was at White Gypsy to try the Cream Ale brewed by the owner Cuilan's son Dylan. It was served on nitro, which of course added to the creamy taste that reminded me of gooseberries and custard. A lovely clean beer and a good start to the festival. Proof that the brewery is in good hands for the next generation at least.

From The White Hag, the stars of last years festival, I tasted Meabh Rua Irish Bog Ale, which tasted of bacon and popcorn and was excellent, plus Beann Gulban Irish Heather Sour Ale - strong for a sour at 7.5% abv I felt but not noticeable on the tongue. The sourness came across a little too diluted for me but it was a fine beer. Their White Sow Oatmeal Chocolate Stout that was pushed through a rocket of fresh coffee beans was a tongue tingler of flavours with the coffee mingling with the dark chocolate flavour and backed up by a dose of full bodied goodness - a great breakfast stout if there ever was one!

Next I had Hillbilly Heaven from Mountain Man Brewing, based on their Sneaky Owl but aged on American bourbon oak. This had a light body and tasted of how old bookshops smell, that's not a negative but I did feel it was a little short in body for me, which was strange as I like Sneaky owl in bottle. Later I sampled their Vincent van Coff based on the same beer but with coffee and vanilla, I could get the coffee in this one and perhaps the touch of vanilla. I preferred it to Hillbilly Heaven even if it was subtle and, well, sneaky.

I tried Wicklow Brewery's St.Kevin's Red, which was a great take on a red ale. As in Kilkenny when I tasted their Weiss, I got the faintest taste of bacon from it along with bags of malt. It was very tasty indeed and I can only presume that the bacon-like taste if from the yeast strain. Perhaps German given the brewer's nationality?

Lagunitas Chicago-Style Fusion XXX Saison was an interesting one that I only sampled but although it was Saison like it seemed sweeter somehow, like honeysuckle scent with an edge of sourness. I meant to revisit it but sadly didn't get back to it.

Next I headed to Dungarvan Brewing Company as they had a two-part stout pouring from cask that echoed back in time to how stout was served before kegs and nitro arrived on the scene. I also needed to reaffirm that my palate was right when I had been given an off pint of cask Black Rock in Waterford the previous week that tasted slightly of cider vinegar. I didn't blame Dungarvan for this though, and wanted to get to their stand to try Black Rock as it should be served. The two-part pour stout was excellent, one cask was fresh and the other aged 9 months. It tasted of mild cocoa and had a lovely chalk-like finish that I really enjoyed. Also from Dungarvan I tasted Black Rock with added raspberries, which was also excellent with a liquorice flavour and chocolate mixing with the raspberries on my tongue. Their Seaweed Saison was great too, a savoury, almost salty beer that made me hungry for both more of the beer and food too. The Imperial Red was butterscotch in a good way with a hit of alcohol but was perhaps a tad harsh for me. Later I had the Strong Ale that lived up to its name! It was viscous with whiskey, molasses and treacle - and I loved it. A sipper I didn't sip!

Radikale's Curious Radical Brew was one I had earmarked as a must try when I saw what would be at the festival. It's a beer made with gin botanicals and not a hop in sight! It was gorgeously dry with cardamom and a backwash of peppery heat. More flavours appeared, lingered and faded on my tongue - this was an ongoing taste experience. An excellent beer again from Alain.

From Carlow Brewing (O'Hara's) I sampled the Barrel Aged Leann Follain on cask, which seemed to have more body and flavour than the bottled version I had sampled previously. This version was really good and I forgot to ask if it was a new reincarnation of the bottled version or whether it was just sitting around longer. Falling Apple Dry-Hopped Cider was truly bizarre, with a nice cheese rind quality maybe ... It was certainly hard to place but I did like it and it cleansed my palate and made me think of food again.

Out in the food marquee I headed to Jane Russell's stand to try the Merguez lamb sausage, while the others headed to a hotdog stand apart from Nige who bent the ear of a friend he had spotted, although I'm not convinced she wanted her ear twisted by him at this point of the day. My cuminated sausage was fantastic, served in a bun with just a little dressing. It, combined with the fresh air, restored my flagging palate and tired legs and I was ready to go again.

Rye River Brewing had promised a few specials so it would have been a bit rude not to try them. They had been getting a bit of stick because of their McGargles range, most of it unjust in my opinion, and I think they were keen to show everyone what they could do. They had done something similar at the Alltech Beer Festival earlier in the year.

Anyhow, their Keeping Red was excellent with loads of vanilla flavour, good cola and loads of body ... and maybe a little soul too. Francis McGargle’s Big Bangin IPA - to give it its full title - a new addition to the McGargles range, was certainly a great beer but I think I might be going off big boozy IPAs with their sickly sweet and sour barley sugar taste. The Watermelon Wheat was really good with loads of body and would be great with a barbecue on a hot summers day. Later I snuck back for a glass of the Azacca hopped pale ale, another lovely refreshing beer with a flavour that reminded me of Sorachi Ace.

At this point - feeling sociable, which is unusual for me - I left the others and went scouting for a few souls I knew from Twitter, or at least those whose faces I knew. I found a couple but also missed some notable figures. Who know? They could have been avoiding me!

I returned to my crew and we munched on the free crisps given out by Keoghs as we decided what to try next as time was running out and our train back to Carlow would not wait for four boozy guys who didn't understand the words 'Stop Drinking!'

I wanted to try Yellow Belly beers but as I was heading down to Lambert's in Wexford the following week I took a chance that they'd have something good on their so avoided their stand heading to Blacks of Kinsale instead.

Blacks have yet to let me down by producing a beer I don't like and their Sour Brown Ale didn't disappoint. Although I would have prefered it a little sourer, it had a nice bourbon cream biscuit flavour that worked well with its tartness. Strangely, I always get a wave of arrogance washing over me when I visit their stands and I'm never sure where it emanates from, perhaps it was wafting from the beer itself, with good reason! Sticking with browns I sampled Jester their Imperial one next which had a great spicy flavour with a cheeserind aftertaste and a good hoppy/alcohol burn. I hope they bottle this one!

On we went again and this time I hit the Northbound Brewery stand, as they had an Sticke Alt beer on tap. I have a particular fondness for this style since visiting Düsseldorf a few years back and was dying to try it. Before that I got a sample of their Kölsch, which was super fresh tasting with loads of biscuity malt. The Sticke Alt was excellent, tasting of biscuity cola with spice - perhaps cardamom - too. I brought back memories of Düsseldorf and the great trip we had made to the city one Christmas.

It was time for more food so I nipped out for a box of chips from a fish and chips place that I think promised seaweed salted seasoning but I might be wrong on that description as my notes and memory failed me here. I grabbed four forks and napkins and plonked them down in front of my ravenous mini-hoard, who greedily devoured the whole lot.

It was time for the last few beers so we split up. I headed to Rascals Brewing to try their Chardonnay Saison, which had been recommended by one of the Twitteratti. This certainly had a barrely quality (if that's a word) and was dry and tartish. The others hit Killarney Brewing and I got to try their pale ale and IPA, or so I was told ... Both tasted similar to me so I think they might have both been the IPA, with loads of red lemonade, lemon and grapefruit. They were 'both' excellent!

Second to last was O Brother Brutus DIPA, a big beer at 9.1% and showing every point of it, all barley sugar, blue cheese and citrus ...  and was a very good beer. Truth be known it was a bit OTT for me, which goes to prove I'm not the hop head I once was or that perhaps I was beered out at this stage. Last beer here was 8 Degrees Millennium - another huge beer at 10% but subtle in a way, with sugary sweetness, smoke and lingering alcohol burn. A great beer again!

We were failing fast at this stage so after 5 and a bit hours we left the festival and immediately and collectively decided that a shared taxi was in order. We hopped into a free one and headed back to the train station, giving the poor driver just a small amount of abuse on the journey there. We were at the station a little early so went for another beer in the bar. I had a Hop House 13. I couldn't taste it - and I'm not sure if that was down to my taste buds or the beer itself.

So after grabbing my usual coffee and free chocolate from Butlers we headed to the train and our journey home. A rainbow appeared on the way home, which suited our happy mood, and we then proceeded to annoy the people in our carriage by talking too loud and being 'those guys!'

The greed of having to try as many beers as possible had made me drink too much. Well that combined with me not checking the size of beers I was drinking, which knocked my internal alcohol measurement system off kilter.

Looking back now it's clear that craft beer - for want of better words - in Ireland is in great hands and great shape. Diversity, experimentation and enthusiasm stood out at this festival more than any other I'd been too and it bodes well for future ones!

My favourite beers? That's a tricky one but I think Radikale's Curious Radical Brew, Rye River's Keeping Red and Northbound's Sticke Alt stood out for me for various reasons amongst a few other crackers.

Roll on next year!

Beer, Food & Travel: Sage, Midleton, Co. Cork - Wise Choices

Your memory can be flawed, seriously flawed.

That is why I try to record as much as possible so that when I come to report on, reply to or simply describe an occurrence I'll have something factual to fall back on.

Some of the places that I have eaten or drank in that sit high on my list of best experiences are recorded in my notebooks and subsequently - or eventually - on this blog and are therefore written with the benefit of hindsight and the cooling-off-period that can help you speak rationally and clearly with controlled passion about any subject.

So as I sit here looking at the notes I hastily scribbled in Sage restaurant in Midleton a few weeks back I can feel confident that what I write about will be accurate where it needs to be and as factual as possible where it should be, allowing for a pinch of poetic licence of course!

We had visited Sage's younger sibling the afternoon before and were impressed enough to think about coming here for the early evening menu, with only the lack of visible kid's menus - on the actual building and online - making us wonder whether they would be fed or even tolerated. But a quick Tweet confirmed that there was indeed a kid's menu and I can only assume that its absence is just to stop hordes of unruly children from running amok in the restaurant and annoying those who have come for a romantic meal or those who don't like hearing discussions about Minecraft, or having to pick small pieces of strewn Lego or worse from their beef carpaccio ... and who can blame them?

We would have persevered even if they hadn't responded to my Tweet ... I like their ethos with regard to their main ingredients coming from within 12 Miles of the restaurant, and also the place had been recommended by a couple of people on the Twitter machine.

Arriving without a reservation didn't appear to be an issue as we had came early enough to avoid any evening rush. Our waiter got the nod from the manager that we looked ok and so we were seated, a little close to the door for comfort for me but only because of some ancient need I have to sit with my back to a wall facing an escape route. Not knowing how loud our kids might be, it was probably the correct decision, as we were a fair distance away from the rest of the diners.

Our surroundings tread a fine line between the warmth of wooden furniture, vases of cottage flowers and low lighting, and the clean angularity of modern chicness. The staff played their part in this look too, sporting jeans with waistcoats and crisp white shirts. This worked incredibly well by putting you at ease and giving you the feeling that this was a place that was easy-going and friendly but with that clinical polish that makes a place really click.

The early evening menu had a few interesting items on it; lamb's tongue, bone marrow butter, beef carpaccio all sounded a little different but Sage's own black pudding appealed as a starter while the brisket seemed like the natural follow-up main course to my palate's logic. Herself went with the chicken and smoked pork rib terrine followed by the hake, while the kids decided on a garlic bread starter between them and then fish and chips, with the memory of Skinny's still in their little minds. To drink I chose O'Hara's Leann Follain to go with my meal while herself went for 8 Degrees Barefoot Bohemian from a beer menu of 10 or more Irish beers.

We were served tasty breads with a sage butter as we waited for our starters, which arrived quite promptly. My black pudding was served with a crispy potato, onions and shiitake mushrooms, and looked like a little dark tower sitting in a sea of bearnaise sauce. The pudding itself was perfectly cooked, pink and moist inside slightly crisp on the outside, with a subtle sweet flavour. The terrine was a seriously smoky, greasy, meaty combination with tons of taste - we were off to a great start, as the kids munched on their garlic bread.

Our two main courses arrived quickly too, the hake was nice and perfectly cooked but my brisket was amazing. A subtle and shreddable, no-knife-needed lump of beef with exquisite creamy mash and a carmelised whole carrot, with gravy and creamy sauce.

There was a short delay with the kids food - I think they might have forgot about them! But their fish arrived not too long after our main courses and although the batter was a tad undercooked it was still gobbled up quickly and enjoyed, with chips dipped in tiny jars of red sauce.

For dessert herself had the the Midleton Brick - a chocolate and toasted marshmallow slice while I decided to have the baked cheese cake I had the day before and choose 12 Acres pale Ale to go with it this time, sticking with two beers that were local to me in this local-focussed restaurant.

The brick arrived and so did my cheesecake, but it turned out to be fridged cheesecake and not the baked one I thought I was having! No matter as it was lovely anyway and still suited the bitter lemony pale ale.

We had been well looked after all evening by the attentive staff and although it wasn't yet busy you could see that service ran like a well drilled army troop.

The meal itself was very good value, the key being the use of local, affordable ingredients cooked correctly and respected, with just a tiny bit of essential faffing. Personally I'd highly recommend Sage and it certainly lived up to the hype surrounding it.

Anything I'd change? Well being a family man I'd like to see some nod to the fact that they do kids food, a mention on the website or on the menu near the entrance would not go astray. But as mentioned earlier, in the interest of peace and quiet, maybe they've made the right decision to keep the kids meals under wraps!

I'd also love to see them with their own nano brewery too, producing beers to compliment their food, but I can appreciate that that's a serious investment in every way. Even if it would fit in with their ethos of local produce.

Anyhow, Sage is a great spot and hopefully we'll get back some day soon.

Oh, and they serve wine too by the way!

Visited 8th July 2015

(Apologies for the photo quality!)

Recipe: Spent Malt, Oats & Apricot Flapjacks - Stuck Mash

I don't really have a sweet tooth, so it's rare for me to make or bake desserts or cakes, but occasionally my palate gets turned by my brain's ridiculous requirement to occasionally eat something sugary.

Yesterday I fancied something sticky, sweet and sickly but with limited time and resources - plus a scrounger's need to use some spent malt from my homebrew at the weekend - making a batch of flapjacks seemed to make sense. Firstly they were easy to make, secondly I had all the ingredients and finally they ticked the aforementioned alliterated criteria.

So here we go!

Ingredients:
175g of Butter
175g of Brown Sugar
175g of Dried Spent Malt
175g of Oats
2 tbsp of Golden Syrup
2 tbsp of Dried Apricots - Finely Chopped

Method:
Put the butter, sugar and golden syrup into a large saucepan and heat gently until butter is melted. Stir in the rest of the ingredients and mix well. Spread out evenly in a 30cm by 20cm tray and cook in a 170 C oven for 25 to 30 mins. Leave to completely cool and then cut into squares.

That's it!

You can substitute any dried fruit for the apricots, or leave them out completely. The taste of the biscuity malt shines through and complements the oats, although next time I might use slightly more of the malt and less oats, as I like how the malt tastes.

As ever, feel free to adjust quantities to suit your palate.

Food & Travel: Skinny's Diner & Ballycotton, Co. Cork - Of Hake & Sea Kale

Considering my fear of open water I find it more than a little ironic that I seem to be drawn to the coast when out for a drive. If I believed in reincarnation I'd swear that I was a sailor who was lost at sea - forever soaked into my soul both the need to see the sea and the mortal fear of being under it.

Our recent trip to Midleton took a diversion by way of Ballycotton for no reasons other than that magnetic attraction and also because the kids wanted to get to the sea, as it's not classed as a real holiday unless they do seemingly.

Ballycotton is a pretty, neat village dominated by The Star of the Sea church on the hill overlooking this side of the headland and the 19th century lighthouse on one of the islands that are set adrift just off the coast.

With lunch time approaching and having promised everyone we'd find some fish and chips, I spotted a small whitewashed building with some oil clothed picnic tables out front and a chalk board announcing, 'Fresh Ballycotton Fish of the Day with Chips and a Tub' with the name 'Skinny's Diner' crudely written on the top. We parked a little up the road and wandered back down curious to find out what the fish was and what would be in the important sounding tub.

The place seemed quirky and interesting so we decided to stay. It was a showery, cool morning so we opted to sit inside after ordering our two fish and chips for herself and I, and two fish goujons for the smaller people from the guy behind the counter. The tubs by the way were small sides from a selection of eight or so - we chose mushy peas and coleslaw. Seating inside consisted of four tables and an assortment of chairs and benching giving the place a certain charming, homely feel. The window at the back looked out across Ballycotton Bay to Knockadoon head, with the sun making a fleeting appearance just to tease us as we sat waiting for our food.

We sat down and admired the view while we waited for our meals. Some kids came and went - belonging to the owner we assumed from the conversations we overheard - and a few more people came and ordered different things from the large menu that made me think that the small cooking area must have tardis-like properties.

Our food arrived pretty quickly and looked great - I have to confess that I was so excited and hungry I forgot to take a photo of it! The fish was cooked with the skin still on the fillet in a nice light, crispy batter with loads of carmelised crunchy bits and served with chips that at first I thought were frozen. Eating them I wasn't so sure, as they tasted great and didn't have that frozen chip quality. They fish itself certainly wasn't frozen, it was fresh caught hake that had been collected from the pier down the road that morning and reaffirmed my thoughts that every second and mile counts when getting fish from net to pan.

We devoured our lunch in record time and my oldest declared it the best fish ... ever! More than satisfied, we paid our bill and headed back outside, where the clouds appeared to be clearing away. By the side of the building was a gate that lead to steps running down to a kid's play area and some extra seating - plus 'Misty' the dog, who belongs to the owners. She was a friendly little terrier who was hoping against hope that we'd stay and talk to her, which we did for a few minutes.

Needing to walk off our lunch, we decided to take a stroll along the main street, past a giant clump of asters on a bank overlooking the coast guard station and down to the harbour, which was packed full of boats, ropes, crates and monstrous seagulls. This was obviously a very busy port and the large lifeboat bobbing within the pier's shelter was proof of how valuable a position the harbour held on this coast.

Beyond the pier wall were two islands and on the furthest sits the striking Ballycotton lighthouse built in the mid 1800s, you can take tours out to it but that wasn't something we fancied today - I certainly didn't anyway. Steps led down from the pier to the rocky, shingled shore, a clump of rock samphire clinging to the side of them.

The headland and beach were covered in a bewildering array of plants and there was even a large clump of seakale on the top of the foreshore at the end of the cliffs. Seakale is a pretty, plastic-like plant and one I'd love to try to grow back home in my gravel-strewn back garden. I was tempted to harvest some seeds or take a little piece but I had the feeling I was being watched, although that might have just been by the huge, circling gulls.

 

We wandered around the shore for a while, the kids playing on the rocks and their mother looking on, while I studied the local flora a little more, spotting hebes, sea thrift and a host of other plants dotted on the banks, and cast a wary eye out to sea, hypnotized by the waves.

But eventually it was time to get back on the road, so we said our goodbyes to the plants and the gulls, the boats and the lighthouse, and with a special wave to Skinny's - and to Misty - as we drove past, we headed inland ...

Away from the sea and my love/hate feelings for it.

Visited 7th July 2015