Sundays in Seattle

So last Sunday I made the pork chops and the trifle but not the cocktail. I like to be organized for events like these but instead was driving to the grocery store and the liquor store about an hour before I had wanted to eat these goodies. While driving there I actually yelled out, "It's Sunday!!!!!" This means that you can't get any liquor in Seattle. Being that I am from Chicago and you can buy hard liquor until 2 am in available stores, this is something I will probably never get used to. It's so funny because Seattle is one of the least religious cities in the US and yet no booze on Sundays. The jerks.

Luckily I had brandy in the house from a fig and raspberry tart I made a while back and so I improvised.

I called my Dad before rushing off to the grocery store because I wanted to know more. He said that Grandma J just fried her pork chops like a steak. Salt and pepper and nothing else. That sounded like yuck to me and I was certainly not going to do that. I ended up making a mushroom sherry sauce for them and baked them in the oven after slightly browning in the pan. Being that I have never eaten a pork chop before I thought they had a strange saltiness and tough texture. I might have over-cooked them but I looked it up and it seemed right.....

Dad said that he had never heard of putting applesauce on pork chops and it sounded disgusting. He said that kind of thing is "all American."

"Dad, do you like pork chops?"

"I like lamb chops."

"Of course but what about pork?"

"Not really. They're ok I guess. Why don't you make lamb instead?"

"Did Grandma J ever make lamb?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Did you like Grandma J's cooking?"

"It was all I knew so yeah I liked it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's put it this way, when I got out of the service I thought my mother's cooking was the best in the world."

We moved on to a conversation about the trifle. He was a bit miffed that I was attempting this from across the country where he couldn't get any and proceeded to tell me that my mother thinks they are getting fat (not possible) and she isn't allowing any goodies in the house. Poor Dad. What I learned was the Grandma J didn't care one bit for baking and always used store bought sponge or pound cake for the trifle. This was a shock. It's pretty much unheard of to do this on my mother's side of the family. My mother and grandmother do everything from scratch and rarely use anything from a can, with the exception of some jams and plum butter. Sometimes I cringe a little when people tell me they use things like margarine, or miracle whip, or velveta cheese, or canned fruit, or splenda. I am willing to admit that this is total snobbery, but I really don't get it. I'm the person that orders the real maple syrup at a diner for the extra $2. Well last Sunday I was the person to make a trifle the way my Grandma J made it and that included store bought pound cake, canned peaches, jello, and dear god cool whip. No no no I just couldn't succumb to the cool whip but did buy whipped cream ready made. (also unlike me) What the hell is cool whip made of and why does it give you a horrific stomach ache? Scary stuff.

If you ever attempt a Trifle of any variety, I have this advice for you: make it the day before you want to serve it. I thought the taste was much better the next day because the brandy mellowed out a little and the refrigeration made the whole thing into more of a cake and not a slop that it was when I served it. Come to think of it now though, I seem to remember that she served it in bowls and not plates so maybe appearance and general togetherness of the elements didn't matter. Smart woman.

I found out that Grandma J didn't care much for vegetables and she made either carrots or mashed potatoes or peas every single night. I can't imagine this for the life of me. There are so many amazing tastes out there and so many meals you can make with just vegetables alone, I just wonder why anyone would not even want to try it sometimes. This is sort of a sad finding about her because I knew that she was closed minded and fearful in many other ways, but I had hoped that there might have been something outside the box that tickled her fancy. I guess it was only the occasional cheese pizza.

She will always be a mystery to me. I don't know what kind of relationship she really had with my dad, but I do know that when he married my mom it went very badly. She never accepted us. Her friend at the B&B in Sligo had no idea of who I was, but she knew of my younger cousins. I remember Grandma J being kind to me and always calling me "love," but I never got a sense of warmth from her. A very clear memory I have of her was one day when we were standing in line at TJ Maxx she hit my left boob out of nowhere and said "Gittin a bit big on top aren't you now?" The horror.

I would like to remember good things about her despite the grievances she caused my mom and the fact that I know very little about her at all. What I remember clearly was that she had sparkling blue eyes and dark brown hair. (a selkie she was) She wore dresses or skirts and heels every day of her life. She had her makeup and hair done even just to sit in front of the TV all day. And I will give this detail: O'Byrne was her maiden name.

Someday I hope to make a perfect trifle for her.

A Trifle This...

Since yesterday was St. Patrick's Day I found myself thinking of my paternal grandmother, whom I called Grandma J. I always think St. Patrick's Day is kind of funny. The whole city drinks like crazy to celebrate a man who drove the snakes out of Ireland among other things. My dad is actually from Ireland and yet we hardly seem Irish at all in my family. I mean I have terrible luck, and I do admit to having the thirst, and I dislike chilly, dreary, rainy weather constantly and yet found myself in Seattle, but we never did anything for St. Patrick's Day anyway. Despite the occasional whiskey, my dad has lost nearly all of his accent. I think it's kind of sad really.

I feel like I hardly knew Grandma J. I know that she smoked like a chimney and the 7 and 7 was her poison of choice and probably what did her in towards the end. I remember that she was wild about knitting and "Murder She Wrote." She had a sing-songy Limerick accent which I am actually capable of doing an amazing impression of but haven't really done it for anyone to hear. Occasionally when something weird happens in the kitchen I let out a very quiet: "Jaysus Mahry and Joseph would you Belieeeve that now?" Or when things are going well: "Ah tis grrand so tis." But this is truly all I got from her.

I am told that my grandmothers couldn't understand anything that the other was saying but both enjoyed Lou Malnati's thin crust cheese pizza. The differences between them might have been too great to have gotten along. It might have been fear or just dislike really. And so I rarely went over to Grandma J's and most things I found out about her were after her death.

I went to Ireland 10 years ago this June. My uncle gave me a few names and addresses to look up. One of them was Teresa Kelly who runs the Pine Grove B & B in Sligo. My uncle told me that I should really stay there and pay her a visit. Little did I know that Teresa was friends with Grandma J. When I got there I told her that I thought my grandparents used to stay there on holiday after they moved to the States, and maybe she knew them? Well apparently she and my grandmother used to be great friends that played bridge with a few other ladies in town and talked badly of their husbands. She said that my grandparents would have lengthy stays at the B&B and that Grandma J would make herself at home and use the kitchen when she wanted. She used to surprise my Granddad with pork chops sometimes. He would go out "with the boys," whatever that meant (pub) and then pretend like she was mad when he got back in. She would tell him that he reeked of smoke and tease him and then say, "How bout some chops then? Maybe a bit of chops tonight."

For some reason this story about pork chops brought me to tears and I was SO EMBARRASSED. I tried to hide them because I had just met this woman and didn't want her to think I was nuts and also because I was there with my boyfriend at the time and well, honestly I didn't know him too well then either. She went to make tea then and I was able to regain composure but I wish now that I could go back in time and listen to Teresa tell these stories all night. I wish that I could have learned to knit the Celtic knot sweaters that Grandma J made all the time and I wish I knew half of the cards games she knew and I wish she taught me more words in Irish, but what I got from her was a partial interview with a woman an entire ocean away. We talked of other things and then said goodnight and I could not sleep for the life of me. I kept thinking that they were there. They stayed in the very room that she let us have that night. I was almost hoping that I would see her in a dream or something magical would happen to make me more connected to her, but all it ended up being was pork chops.

One of my uncles claim that Grandma J was a terrible cook. I find this hard to believe since she spent her life cooking for her father and brothers and then for her husband and sons. Unfortunately the only dish I remember her making is a trifle. It consisted of sponge cake, jello, whiskey and whipped cream. Hmmm. Sounds gross, but it was my absolute favorite dessert when I was a kid and it was always a big hit when they had parties. Trifle is a dessert dish that has several versions; some with custard some with fruit and cream, and in Grandma J's case jello. The trouble is that she never passed on the recipe to me or anyone. My mom has attempted this several times over for me and my Dad and it never comes out the way we remember it. At what point do you put the whiskey on the spongecake, and how much? How do you keep the whipped cream from becoming a disgusting slop with the jello and booze? I feel like these secrets are lost forever and no matter how many recipes we try we won't get it right. It's worth a try though.

This weekend I intend to make meal in celebration of Grandma J. I didn't dress in green or drink a Guinness yesterday but I intend to make pork chops and a trifle instead. Maybe I'll even have a 7 and 7. I've never once in my life eaten a pork chop so this should be interesting.....Slainte! Oíche mhaith, codladh sámh.