Some Irish recipes don't transpose well; sometimes the disappointment in the final product comes from an inability to find comparable ingredients or a misunderstanding of measures. Notice the differences in amounts in this recipe for brown bread. From the Little Irish Baking Book by Ruth Isabel Ross: Nutty Brown Bread 50 g / 2 oz / 1/2 cup pinhead oatmeal* 175 g / 6 oz / 1 1/2 cups wheatenmeal (whole-wheat) flour 75 g / 3 oz / 3/4 cup white (all-purpose) flour 1/2 t./generous 1/2 t. US t. sugar 1 heaped tsp / 1 1/4 US tsp bread (baking) soda 280 ml / 1/2 pint / 1 1/4 c. buttermilk Put the oatmeal, flours, sugar and bread/baking soda into a bowl and sift with your fingers. Add the buttermilk. Mix everything with a wooden spoon. Knead slightly. Place the dough in a greased tin and bake at 200°C / 400°F / gas 6 for 30-35 minutes. Wrap the loaf in a clean tea towel/dish cloth to keep it from becoming hard. Do not cut it for a few hours but finish within 24 hours. *pinhead oatmeal is also known as Irish or Scottish oatmeal or steel-cut oats Irish "all-purpose white" is a soft wheat low-protein flour. So something like a bread flour or a typically high protein King Arthur flour would not yield pleasing results. White Lily or another soft southern flour like Weisenberger is a bit closer to the original. This article from The Atlantic provides some helpful insights on Irish flour: The Secret of the Irish Scone For the truly authentic, Irish flours can be purchased at the link. Carol

An Irish Pub Joke... An Irish man shows up in a pub one day and orders three pints of Guinness. He takes sips from each glass until they are empty and calls the bartender for three more. The bartender says, 'Sure it's up to yourself, but wouldn't you rather I was bringing them one at a time? Then they'll be fresh and cold.' 'Nah...' your man says, ' I'm preferrin' that ye bring 'em three at a time. You see, me and me two brothers would meet at a pub and drink and have good times. Now one is in Australia, the other in Canada and I'm here. We agreed before we split up that we'd drink to each other's honour this way.' 'Well,' says the bartender, 'that's a grand thing to do, all right. I'll bring the pints as you ask.' Well, time goes on and your man's peculiar habit is known and accepted by all the pub regulars. One day though, he comes in and orders only two pints. A hush falls over the pub. Naturally, everyone figures something happened to one of the brothers. A group of the regulars corner the bartender and finally persuade him to find out what happened. With a heavy heart, the bartender brings the two pints and says, 'Here's your pints... and let me offer my sincerest condolences. What happened?' The Irish man looks extremely puzzled for a moment, and then starts laughing. 'Oh, no, no, no! 'Tis nothing like that. You see, I've given up drinking for Lent...' An Irish Pub Joke... An Irish man has been at a pub all night drinking. The bartender finally says that the bar is closed. So your man stands up to leave and falls flat on his face. He figures he'll crawl outside and get some fresh air and maybe that will sober him up. Once outside he stands up but again falls flat on his face. He crawls home. Reaching the door he tries to stand up, and yet again, falls flat on his face. He crawls through the door and up the stairs. When he reaches his bed he summons the last of his strength and tries one final time to stand. It's no use. He tumbles into bed and is soon sound asleep, only to awaken the next morning to the sound of his wife standing over him shouting. 'So... you've been out drinking again!' 'How did you know?' he asks, his head hung in shame. 'The pub called-- you left your wheelchair down there again!' An Irish Pub Joke... An Irishman, an Englishman and a Scotsman go into a pub. Each orders a pint of Guinness. Just as the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz down and land-- one, two, three-- in each of the pints. The Englishman looks disgusted, pushes his pint away and demands another... the Scotsman picks out the fly, shrugs, and takes a long swallow. The Irishman reaches in to the glass, grabs the fly between his fingers and shakes him as hard as he can, shouting 'Spit it out, ya bloody b%$#@*! Spit it out!'

I adore Irish Cream, on the rocks. It's my drink of choice. I can honestly say, I don't care for Bailey's Irish Cream, lucky for me, coz that stuff is expensive! In my area they sell a brand name called Ryan's. Sells for half the price of Baileys and tastes better to me. Now I'm going to check out that recipe.

"The Journal and Genealogy of Michael Gaffney" From Ireland to the backwoods of South Carolina The Travels, Adventures, Trials, Quaint Observations and Economic Conquests of the "Father of Gaffney, S.C." Excerpt: Young Michael Gaffney from Granard (Longford County) set sail on the Snow Palace on July 31st, 1797, from Dublin for a new life in America. He landed in New York three months later, became ill with yellow fever in 1799. Having decided to see the America he had only heard about, he again boarded ship, and in spite of storms and pirates, January 22, 1800, boarded the Marion for Charleston, SC and arrived on February 3, 1800, in Charleston, SC. The Journal contains Michael's life following his arrival in South Carolina and his rise in the growth of the area, despite his own references to his frequent use of alcohol which were in line with the lack of disgrace attached to drunkenness at that time. His tombstone reads: "Sacred to the memory of Michael G. Gaffney, born in Ireland, September 29, 1775, died September 6, 1854." In October of 1930, a monument was erected to the city's founder. It was said of Michael: "He was a man of unusual strong mind. Strength of appetite and passion were his natural features. After a life of many trials, considerable worldly success, and long continued struggles with the sins and evil of the world around, he died a well-esteemed member of Providence Baptist Church of his neighborhood, with triumph of faith on his lips." I have this journal and there are articles about life in Ireland and New York, the journeys at sea, the history of the name and other personal facts about MICHAEL GAFFNEY, MY GREAT GRANDFATHER . My grandmother was Susan Ellen Gaffney, a daughter of Michael Gaffney. She married Tillman Broadus Gaines, my Uncle Broad. Fascinating reading, plus a few pictures.