It was a Happy New Year's!

We ended 2006 with salmon and marinated artichoke hearts over spinach and plain fettuccini noodles drizzled with olive oil; grated parmesan atop.

Rumaging through Mom's old recipes, I found hers for Grasshopper Pie. The 3x5 card is stained from buttery hands. The handwriting is childish, and there's a yellow cookoo clock on the right side with a bluebird on the perch wearing a chef's hat. She let us girls cook as soon as we could pull a chair up to the table. My first baking experience was gingerbread. I mixed it up and poured it in the pan along with the spoon, which she didn't discover until she couldn't cut it.

The Grasshopper Pie recipe calls for 14 finely crushed oreos. I put out extras - for me. Mix the crushed oreos with 2 tablespoons of melted butter. Set aside a small amount for topping. Pat the rest into a 9" pie plate to establish the crust. In the top of a double boiler melt 24 large marshmallows with 1/2 cup milk. Cool. The recipe calls for 1 ounce of white creme de cocoa and 2 ounces green creme de menthe. I half each. When the marshallow/milk mixture is partially set, add 1 cup whipped cream. I whip 1/2 cup of cream and fold in gently. Pour over the crust. Sprinkle top with reserved crumbs. Refrigerate until ready to serve. Thanks Mom for the love of cooking.

I bought the Galway crystal champagne glasses with engraved cladagh when Minnie and I visited Ireland in March of 2000. We really did hear Willie Nelson songs on St. Pat's Day. Kris and I toasted "Good Cheer, Health, Wealth andHappiness", and brought in the New Year sipping Martini and Rossi. Watching the ball drop in Time's Square, and celebrations around the world was a mini-vacation, and we got to sleep in our own beds.

Happy New Year to you, and may it be a year to celebrate.

copyright 2007 Red Convertible Travel Series

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

MSN photo

Ireland. Trees are rare as sunshine. Roads are twisted. Rocks a plenty. Hospitality warm. Willie Nelson music on St. Patrick's Day.

2006 Red Convertible Travel Series

For the love of green

My friend, Frances, is 91 going on 20. Small, she walks straight and tall. Her white hair waves up adding the illusion of height. There's an air of European royalty about her, and a twinkle in her eye. She's quick to laugh - fun to be with. People fight for her company. She's Irish, and as perpetually positive as Ireland is perpetually green. To quote her, "Oh, how I love the mystery of life."

Would that we could, I'd take her to Ireland. We'd drive on the left in a small car, manage the roundabouts, shake our heads at those paying no attention to the "Do Not Overtake" (don't pass signs), and puzzle over "Traffic Calming" (slow down).

This time of year the dewy air is scented with daffodils, pink and white blooms of flowering trees, yellow forsythia, and brightly colored primrose near the deep green ground cover, the deep green that is Ireland. On cloudy days the green is even darker.

Stacked white stones mark fence lines and gardens. Extracting stones from the ground is akin to dentistry, earth heaves them slowly. A miniature house of stone with a thatched room sits among the organized rocks testifying to a slow, labor intensive time. To some, the good old days.

Over shepherd's pie or Irish stew, lamb either way you look at it, and a pint at a local pub, we'd celebrate Saint Patrick's Day thankful he drove the snakes out. We'd see if they play Country Western to celebrate - Willie Nelson, or have gone strictly native this year. Either way, we'd have a bloody good time!

Copyright 2006 Red Convertible Travel Series