Week Five
As happy as I am at Ballymaloe with my English and Irish darlings, I was glad to leave last week and head up to Dublin to meet up with American friends. I don’t have a car here, and even if I did I wouldn’t trust myself on the other side of the road, so I sometimes feel a bit stuck on Ballymaloe’s grounds. It’s about the best place to be stuck, so I’m not complaining, but it’d be nice to have more agency.
When I arrived in Dublin midday on Friday, the sky was blue and clear, and the streets buzzed with people, a number of whom were getting an early start on their Guinness. It felt like a different city from the one I had flown into five weeks ago, riddled with anxiety about my upcoming adventure. To reach our hotel, I walked through St. Stephen’s Green, which was verdant and lively. I love that Ireland stays green all year round; it’s hard not to breathe deep breaths when the grass is thick and wavy and the trees are full. Eliza, Teo, and Conrad were all waiting for me in one of our rooms when I got to the hotel, and I can’t overstate how good it felt to see them. I know I haven’t been gone for very long in the grand scheme of things, but so much has happened in the last five weeks that I’m eager to process with my people. And of course I’m floored that the three of them came all this way to see me.
We did a few touristy things over the weekend — like seeing the Book of Kells and wandering through Christ Church, where I nerded out over the fact that it housed the first performance of Handel’s Messiah, and moaned about how much I miss choir. Mostly, though, we just spent time together. I did my best to guide us to good food places by accumulating recommendations from Irish friends. The culinary highlights were, in my humble opinion, the flaky Irish butter croissant from Scéal Bakery, the pea-basil-mozzarella arancini from The Fumbally, and the sticky toffee pudding from The Richmond that Eliza and I split at the end of a gorgeous prix fixe meal. On Saturday night, we met up with Izzy, Holly, and their boyfriends, along with one of Holly’s friends, and had one of my favorite nights in recent history—a warm blur of drinks, handholding, and red velvet. We ended the night at Izzy’s boyfriend Ethan’s house, where a spectacular painting of Jimi Hendrix that Izzy made for Ethan’s birthday hung over the table. The next day, both parties—American and Irish—told me how much they liked each other and thanked me for orchestrating the night. Is there anything better than that?
I returned to Ballymaloe on Sunday evening and piled onto the couch with a handful of the Pink Cottage ladies to debrief each other on our weekends. Everyone felt a bit weary and daunted by the week ahead, including myself. That night, I reached out to my kitchen partner for the week to find out that she dropped out of the program entirely due to personal health issues. I don’t know anything beyond that, but the news felt like a reality check and a reminder that everyone is experiencing this intensive course in a different way. As my mama would say, think beyond yourself and always be kinder than necessary. There are pros and cons to a partner-less week in the kitchen. Pros: more space, oven to yourself, ability to choose exactly what you want to cook. Cons: nobody to share cleanup duties with, nobody to taste your dishes for seasoning, nobody to commiserate with during hectic moments. It’s been a full-on week, and the kitchen has been so hot to the point that I get dizzy if I don’t drink at least one full bottle of water while I cook.
In spite of everything, I feel myself gradually becoming a better cook. One change I’ve made – and this may sound silly at first – is the way I handle ingredients. Darina told a story on one of our first days at Ballymaloe about a chef who would watch the way potential employees handled salad greens and only hire them if they handled them with respect. I didn’t understand until I did understand. It’s a privilege to work with and eat the kind of ingredients we have access to day in and day out at Ballymaloe. I think about that story at least ten times a day, as I’m slicing a slab of bacon from the pigs down the road into lardons, as I’m whipping cream from the Jersey cows I can see through the window, as I swing by the herb garden after a run to pick delicate society garlic flowers for my dinner. I take more care with food than I used to, and I see ingredients as emblems of larger themes.
While I’ve been in class, Eliza, Teo, and Conrad have been traversing the Irish coastline and timing it so that they can meet me at Ballymaloe tomorrow (Friday). They’ll have seen more of Ireland in one week than I’ve seen in five! I’m both jealous and thrilled for them. I’ve been receiving the most beautiful photos every day and keeping my housemates up to date on their travels. This weekend they’re sneaking an assortment of trashy American snacks (Cheez-Its, Sour Patch Watermelons, etc.) to Ballymaloe for my housemates to try, and I’m praying that Darina doesn’t witness this debauchery. As Conrad told me, the E.U. doesn’t even consider Hershey’s chocolate to be chocolate because of all the shite ingredients ha ha. We’ll see what the girls think.
Speaking of the girls, we’ve gone to the beach the past two evenings in the waning light after class, and it’s been glorious. We swam the first night, and as I waded into the icy water, Eric Small’s mantra “you never regret a swim” rang in my ears. He’s right!
One more thing: on our last night in Dublin, Eliza told me she’s never seen me more at peace with myself. Can’t say I’ve ever heard someone describe me as “at peace,” and especially not someone who knows me as intimately as Eliza does, so her observation stuck with me. I’m not sure why I’m sharing that. Maybe I’m proud? It’s taken a lot of work to get here (particularly over the last four years), so I’m trying to let myself revel in this very new and unfamiliar peace.
Love to all! If I haven’t responded to your email, please know that I loved reading it and will try my best to get back to you soon.
Phoebs