It’s hard to believe that around this time two years ago I was leaving for Northern Ireland to study abroad for a semester.
I try to recall it sometimes. What it looked like, felt like. But it seems so distant now.
It’s as if a different person went to Europe and had those experiences. Ireland-me didn’t care about wearing dirty socks, not taking showers or going without a haircut. She traveled by herself and met wild and interesting people. She was brave, carefree. A true adventurer.
But current-me is a different story.
She wears night dresses and a mouth guard and takes two showers a day.
Her most anticipated Christmas gifts this year were a subscription to the Economist and a Sonicare toothbrush.
Long gone are the days of undergoing visceral discomfort for hours just to get a glimpse of that ancient burial ground or cool museum. Now, I sulk when I have to go to Walgreens during the midnight rush to pick up my medication.
These thoughts of Ireland and Ireland-me were floating through my mind Wednesday when I stopped by MacFarlane’s Celtic Pub for lunch.
Photographer Devin Dronett and I sat down at a table for two in the pub-style dining area. Irish music streamed in, and wood beams lined the walls, just like the pubs I frequented in Ireland.
That old ache began to surface again.
Craving the full Irish experience, I ordered the MacFarlane Burger, which came with — get ready — beef, Irish bacon, sausage, fried egg, tomatoes, smoked Gouda cheese, lettuce, and roasted garlic and Shallot mayo. The Irish do so love that meat, egg and veggie combination. I chose sweet potato fries for my side.
Devin ordered the Blueberry Balsamic salad, which included spring mix, candied pecans, blueberries, sliced red onions and house-made Blueberry Balsamic Vinaigrette.
We looked around at all the Celtic memorabilia, the Guiness fan-fare and the Shamrock-themed decorations. Even the waitresses wore kilts and braided their hair in the traditional fashion.
The only thing that wasn’t Irish about the place was the price — thank heavens. My giant burger and meal totaled $11.25, and Devin’s totaled $10, about half the price of the same dish in Northern Ireland.
Once our food came out, I spent a good few minutes trying to balance all the ingredients between the buns before I finally gave up and used a fork.
Using a fork to eat the MacFarlane burger is a method I would suggest if you, like me, aren’t skilled at transporting a hodgepodge of slippery food into your mouth without some of it landing on your lap.
It will also give you the opportunity to craft the perfect bite, which from my experience is exactly this — a hint of fried egg, Gouda, tomato, bacon and beef on a square inch of bread.
The sweet potato fries, too, were authentically delicious, and the sausage had that hearty, herby flavor characteristic of all Irish meat.
By the end of the meal, I was almost convinced I was back in Ireland. The pub looked the same; the food tasted the same; and I was beginning to feel the same, too.
My visit to MacFarlane’s Wednesday helped me reconnect with a youthful sense of wonder and tenacity that once gave my life meaning, and for that I am grateful.
So, as I do some soul searching over the weekend, I encourage you to make it out to MacFarlane’s to try some authentic Irish cuisine.
Who knows. Maybe it will kindle a spark of wanderlust inside you as well.
from American Press: Your Best News And Advertising Source - Home http://ift.tt/2hzxgQ9
0 التعليقات:
Post a Comment