Evening Tea

It was a perfect day. A drive down the freeway from Dublin to the small town of Thomastown where we would be staying the next night. We had found and checked in at the B&B slated for that night and were off to an adventure. Our hostess told us about a ruin not far from where we were staying, Kells Priory, a 12th Century castle  (or church, I'm not quite sure). Kells Priory contained a church, just off the parking. It was large building, stone walls slightly green from moss, roof long since gone, and abundant plants growing from the floor on the interior. To the left was a small gate. We ventured on through the gate to discover a large green grassy field, several sheep grazing freely, and an imposing stone wall surround what one could only assume was once a grand castle. We wandered among the combination of green growing grass, ivy and moss covered stone walls, and construction equipment from the restoration in progress. Few people wandered the grounds and for much of the time, it seemed we had the place entirely to ourselves. We continued on and found a footbridge that crossed Kings River running along the back of the priory and walked the green island for a distance. The journey continued past an old watermill and a warehouse. We passed a thatched roof cottage, mom so enthralled with the pictures of the house I had to remind her that someone lived there. We laughed. Eventually we circled back across a stone bridge, through the town Kells and found ourselves back at the parking for Kells Priory. Tired, hungry, and thoroughly amazed at the experience we journeyed back to Thomastown to grab dinner and head back to the B&B. Finding a take out fish and chips joint we took our dinner back and grabbed a table on the outside patio of the B&B. As we unpacked the delicious smelling food, our hostess came out giving us plates, napkins, cups of water and a pot of tea.

It was a lovely day of adventure, perfect cool weather with puffy clouds in the sky. Brilliant green vegetation against green/black stone. Now a lovely evening with fantastic fish and chips, delicious Irish tea in lovely cups. We enjoyed our meal, tired, but relaxed and happy and watched the sunset.

I have a cup of tea now and think back to this day often. It was a once in a lifetime experience, elements of a day one couldn't design to recreate and yet, I long to return. To see these places again, to experience everything again.

Oh the Hydrangeas

I'm looking out my patio window, studying my flowers as they sway in the breeze and think of the trips where flowers stand out in my memory. In particular one type of flower: Hydrangeas. On a trip to North Caroline to see my step-sister get married, we took a trip to the Atlantic, my mom and I. I knew if I was going to be that close to the Atlantic (4 hour drive) I wasn't going to miss it. So three days before the wedding, mom and I flew to North Carolina and drove to the coast to spend the day on a small island, Bald Head Island. She was excited to see a lighthouse, Old Baldy, and I was excited to see the Atlantic. I had people tell me, "it looks just like the Pacific" but for me, I had to see it for myself. Let me tell you, it doesn't look the same. The water may be similar but the coast is very different. Anyhow, back to my point. I remember the hydrangeas. Beautiful flowers and at the base of Old Baldy. Mom spent much of her time pointing her camera upward to the lighthouse, I spent mine staring at the flowers. The beautiful purple and blue of the different plants all snuggled into the soft green grass under the massive dripping branches of a weeping willow. It was at that moment I couldn't help but feeling deeply how different it felt to be in the south. Growing up in Arizona, my experience with hydrangeas was from a florist, and weeping willows were in movies or in pictures. Not something I ever saw in person. If I was standing in a lush green lawn, it was someone who was watering a lot and not really environmentally conscious. Not on Bald Head Island though. Not at the feet of Old Baldy, history and charm intermingled in this place. This was a place where moisture was abundant, humidity to make hair curl and frizz and make a person feel moist long after drying off from a shower. It was wonderful, at this moment, the humidity didn't matter. All that was there was this experience. The rich green, the bright spots of color amid the green and the towering lighthouse standing watch over it all.

Travel can mean tired

As I spend my weekend resting, feeling rather exhausted I think back to some of the trips I took and how many levels of tired I experienced while on those journeys. There were many overnight or late night journeys to and from California. Some where I spent the trip in a sleep deprived daze, others where sleeping in the car and driving in shifts were necessary.

I think back fondly to three specific tired levels that I experienced, unintentionally, but nevertheless they were certainly unique. The first was the dazed and confused, this was a trip I took a red eye flight to Michigan to visit a friend and some family over a weekend. The time change had me landing in Detroit at 6 AM EST (3 AM Mountain Standard). I hadn't slept at all during the night and by the time I got my car rental I was running purely on caffeine. I'm pretty sure that weekend my body makeup was 90% water and 10% caffeine. By the end of my first full day, I was dazed, slightly confused in getting around and ever so happy to settle into bed that night.

The second journey was my road trip last year, my first full day was about 8 hours of driving from Phoenix, AZ to Fresno, CA. The day was one of adventure and I was excited and nervous to be on the trip on my own. That first day I was dragging by about 3pm and I had several hours ahead yet. I found a little hole in the wall donut shop just north of L.A. Knowing that those places often had the best coffee, I made a beeline for that shop. The lady running the shop was Filipino and absolutely fabulous! She was so friendly, cheerful, and insisted I take two donut holes (on the house) to go with my coffee. I was so enchanted by this experience, I told the woman about my plans and how I was passing through and asked to take a picture of her for my memories. She laughed, patted her hair, and shaking her head saying "Not today, I'm not dressed for picture. You come back tomorrow." It was such a fun few moments of my trip but certainly a pick-me-up on the long journey. By the time I reached Fresno that night it was exhilarated exhaustion. When the concierge told me I had an upgrade room with a hot tub and that delivery for dinner was an option I nearly climbed over the check-in counter and planted a kiss on his cheek. I barely made it into the room and collapsed. Excited I had made it, exhausted from the hours of travel but so happy to be at my first stop.

The third journey was to Ireland. Simply put, 13 hours of travel and 27 hours of awake time will give even the most seasoned traveler a cold medicine head feeling. The first day in Ireland was easy. I was running on fumes and caffeine (this sounds similar to the last two trips) but I was so excited to be in Ireland and determined to get on their time schedule I refused to let myself or mom sleep until we hit a normal bedtime. We zipped through Dublin, sleep deprived, lost and confused, on the wrong side of the road and the wrong side of the car. The GPS was no help and spent an hour hunting for a B&B that was supposed to be a 10 minute drive from the airport. It was a great first day, lunch in a small cafe up the road from the B&B (thank God our host dropped us off there) and then we wandered back hitting a small grocery store nearby on the way for some fresh fruit to snack on later that evening. We made it to a normal bedtime before collapsing into bed that night. The next day is when it hit. A cold-medicine like head that couldn't be beat. I was so proud of us when we woke at a normal time and had breakfast with the rest of the guests. After breakfast we collapsed. We had to rest and take a nap but I remember I could barely relax, I was in Dublin, there was so much to see and I was running out of time. I gave up trying to sleep after an hour and up we were out to explore Dublin. That day was a haze but was amazing to experience. We rode a double-deck bus, hit a gift shop that screamed TOURIST SHOP and picked up just about everything we wanted to by for our friends and family. We explored and somehow grabbed the wrong bus to get back to the B&B and end up about 2-3 miles north of the B&B. Oops. Sleep deprivation did not work well for us that day. On a fun turn of events though, we grabbed a taxi back to the B&B and had a lovely conversation with the cab driver. That night as we collapsed into our beds exhaustion once again overtook us. We both slept well that night, a dreamed, hoping that we'd wake feeling a little more normal the next day.

Travel, holidays, and food

This weekend I've been making my dad's recipe for baked beans and thinking back to all the trips I've taken where food was a big part of those journey's. Some were destination trips and some were happy accidents, tasty journey for the tongue. Each one has left me with a bigger desire to cook and to create an equally tasty dish; a dish that, when the flavors rest on my tongue, I'm transported back to that spot and can smell, see, taste, and hear where I was when I ate that meal.

For me it was the clam chowder and sourdough bread on Pier 39 in San Francisco or on Wharf 1 in Monterey that takes me back to the Pacific Ocean, cool breezes, salty air, brightly colored tourist shops, and overwhelming amounts of people. I can hear the call of the seagulls as they search for a dropped crumb. I can remember cringing at their hovering overhead as I pray they don't poop on me.

Pea Soup Andersen's and Firestone Vineyard near Solvang, CA were destinations for me. The pea green walls, green carpet, green booths, and green decor of Pea Soup Andersen's should have been overwhelming but somehow, it worked. The soup was fantastic, rich and flavorful, a destination to be sure. Firestone Vineyards had yummy wines but I'll always remember the sight of the vineyards, row upon row of grapevines, deep green in color. The view of a cork tree was something to log. Both lovely places with lovely tastes.

Texas brings back the taste sensation of a fantastic steak. One like I've never had before in even the nicer steakhouses. The Saltgrass Steakhouse appeared to be an upscale restaurant and had I tasted the food before going, I'd have assumed it would be a fancy place to visit. I remember though, the patrons had a variety of dress. Some fancy, on a date, others more relaxed. A Friday night out with the pals or the family.

Ireland, though, that trip left me with the desire to recreate many of the dishes I had while there. I've purchased Irish tea from Ireland because what we have here is a pale comparison to the richness of the flavor of their tea. The soups were blended fantasies, a myriad of flavors all hitting the tongue at once leaving one struggling to determine what exactly was in the soup. There were two things that stood out to me in this journey. The soda, ahhh the soda bread. So simple and yet so delicious. I eat a piece of freshly baked soda bread and am transported back to the breakfast table of a bed and breakfast. The smells of Ireland, the views of the cliffs, the lilt of the voices all come rushing back. Then there was the dish. The one that inspired me to recreate some of the things I ate in Ireland. Mushroom Risotto. The evening was cool and rainy. We'd had an adventure filled day filled with the sights of Giant's Causeway and Carick-A-Rede Rope Bridge and it was drawing to a close in Carrickfergus. Our innkeeper recommended a restaurant a short drive from the b&b so we headed over. The woods were rich, the banter lively, the evening relaxing though it still held an element of something exciting to come. I ordered the mushroom risotto and it was one of the best dishes I've ever had. Still today, nearly three years later, I find myself stopping at the store on rainy days to pick up mushrooms, shallots, broth, and wine to make the fantastic dish. I find myself transported back to that evening where all was perfect, one of the best times of my life.

Food has a tremendous affect on the memory and for me, it's the ties to the trips I've taken that drives me. Those journeys where I've seen amazing sights, met fantastic people, and spawned a larger desire to see more, learn more, and try new things.