Boozy Cupcakes

Okay, so I haven't been 100% honest with all of you. Remember how I spent all of August cooking healthy, vegetarian food? Well the vegetarian part I was very dedicated to. The healthy part...

August 13th marked Will's 26th birthday, and what was I supposed to do, hand the boy a dish of hummus with a candle in it? Birthdays require cake. Yummy cake. And I'd be damned if he wasn't going to have some. The original idea was simple, instead of a cake that has layers that must be stacked and must be carefully wrapped if not eaten at once, I would make cupcakes. So easy to store! So easy to assemble! So how exactly did it end up a 4 hour process?

The trouble started when I decided, instead of just picking a very simple cupcake recipe from America's Test Kitchen and a very simple frosting, I would just look at the Smitten Kitchen archives, just to peek. That's when I found the holy grail of grown-up cupcakes. A cupcake with such wonderful ingredients so perfectly arranged, all I could think was that I could not be responsible for them not existing. I could not have on my conscience that I had known of these cupcakes and walked away. I discovered the Irish Car Bomb Cupcake.

Guinness cupcake. Whiskey ganache. Bailey's buttercream icing. I stared at the computer screen with my mouth agape. Will needed that cupcake.

The real complication here is that 3 separate parts must be made from scratch, and then you actually have to gouge a hole in the cake, stuff it with ganache, and then ice the whole thing without smearing the ganache into the icing and making a streaky mess. I don't do baking like this. In fact it has only been about a year now that I've even attempted baking that wasn't from a box labeled "Sara Lee". My eating a can of frosting days are not all that far behind me, but Will deserved something a bit fancy, especially after I made myself a Maderia Almond Cake for my own birthday in February.

I was a bit late getting started. Having bought Will tickets to a Phillies game that night at Citi Field, we had friends meeting us at the apartment at 5:00. "If I start before 1:00," I thought, "I'll have over 4 hours to bang these guys out." Somehow it was 1:15 before I had the first ingredients on the stove.

Step 1:
Guinness Cupcakes

Ingredients:
- 1 cup stout (you know, Guinness)
- 1 cup unsalted butter
- 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
- 2 cups all purpose flour
- 2 cups sugar
- 1 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
- 3/4 teaspoon salt
- 2 large eggs
- 2/3 cup sour cream

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350°. Line 24 cupcake cups with liners. Bring 1 cup stout and 1 cup butter to simmer in a heavy large saucepan over medium heat. Add cocoa and whisk until mixture is smooth. Cool slightly.

Whisk flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl to blend. Using electric mixer, beat eggs and sour cream in another large bowl to blend. Add stout mixture to egg mixture and beat just to combine. Add flour mixture a little bit at a time and beat at slow speed. Once all flour is added, use a rubber spatula to fold batter until completely combined. Divide batter among cupcake liners, filling them 2/3 to 3/4 of the way. Bake cake until tester inserted comes out clean, rotating them once front to back if your oven bakes unevenly, about 17 minutes. Cool cupcakes completely.

It took me a little longer then 17 minutes, probably more like 19. You want to be completely sure the cupcakes aren't mush, they need to have a bit of structure for the next step. The cooling completely also got to me, as time ticked by I got impatient. I may have rotated the cupcake tins into the freezer to expedite the process...

Step 2
Whiskey Ganache

Ingredients:
- 8 ounces bittersweet chocolate
- 2/3 cup heavy cream
- 2 tablespoons butter at room temperature
- 2 teaspoons Irish Whiskey (Jameson would be most traditional, I used a brand from Clontarf)

Directions:
Chop the chocolate and transfer it to a heatproof bowl. Heat the cream until simmering and pour it over the chocolate. Let it sit for one minute and then stir until smooth. (If this has not sufficiently melted the chocolate you can pop it in the microwave for 20 seconds) Add the butter and whiskey and stir it until combined.

Cool the ganache until it is thick but still soft (putting in the fridge for 10 minutes speeds this along). Use a 1" cookie cutter or apple corer (finally, a use for my apple corer) cut the center out of the cupcakes. You want to go 2/3 of the way down. Smitten Kitchen suggests using a small spoon or grapefruit knife to help get the centers out, I found a fondue fork worked pretty well. Put the ganache into a piping bag, or if you are like me and don't own one, a gallon ziplock bag with the bottom corner cut out. Fill the holes in each cupcake to the top.

Step 3
Bailey's Frosting

Ingredients:
- 3-4 cups confectioners sugar
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
- 4 Tablespoons Baileys

Directions:
Whip the butter in the bowl of an electric mixer, or with a hand mixer, for several minutes until light, fluffy, and creamy. Turn the mixer to its lowest speed and slowly add the powdered sugar, a few tablespoons at a time.

When the frosting looks thick enough to spread, drizzle in the Baileys and whip it until combined. It this makes the frosting too thin, beat in another spoonful or two of powdered sugar.

By this point it was after 4pm, and I was getting nervous. The poor birthday boy had to help me ice the cupcakes, half because of time constraints and half because I flat out sucked at it, constantly getting the ganache whipped up into the frosting in dark streaks. We developed system, Will would put a giant blob (about 3 Tablespoons) directly on top of the hole with the ganache, and then spread it down the cupcake top. At this point he would hand it off to me and I would drag a spatula around the top to make it smooth and pretty. We finally got them all iced and arranged with 5 minutes left on the clock. Just enough time to wipe the sweat from my brow and shove my hair under a Phillies cap.

On Smitten Kitchen Deb writes: Do ahead: You can bake the cupcakes a week or two in advance and store them, well wrapped, in the freezer. You can also fill them before you freeze them. They also keep filled — or filled and frosted — in the fridge for a day. (Longer, they will start to get stale.)

I probably should have worked ahead on these, unless it's a really rainy chilly day (like St. Patrick's Days can tend to be) I probably wouldn't make these all in one day again. As a treat though, they killed. Everyone who ate them raved, and a coworker who took one home to her boyfriend came back to report I had received a proposal of marriage. Seriously, these are compliment garnering cupcakes. The guests seemed a little tipsy after eating. And the birthday boy seemed happy they did not contain eggplant.

Bastardized Irish Soda Bread

I wasn't going to do Irish Soda Bread this year. Or ever really. It's one of those things that I tried like a million years ago, didn't like, and had decided, nope, not for me. It's dry, it's crumbly, it doesn't taste very good, I thought. Then March hit, and the American addiction to Irishness was out in full force. Recipes popped up for stews, potato dishes, and that blasted bread. When Smitten Kitchen succumbed a few days ago with Soda Bread Scones, I read the post with a bit of bemusement at the international addiction to bad bread. Then I saw a link to a previous post from a few years ago, for Deb's standby Irish Soda Bread.

It turns out in 2007 she had done a soda bread out of the NY Times that had turned out wonderfully. Following the trail to the original article, I realized why. This recipe does what American do best, take an idea from another country, and then manipulate it to the point that is completely unrecognizable to the original culture. We are especially good at this when it comes to the products of the Emerald Isle. We took their music and turned it into Tin Pan Alley, and then proceed to look at them strange when they don't know what "Tura Lura Lura" is. The Irish did not, I repeat, did not invent Corned Beef and Cabbage, we inflicted that horror show on ourselves. And despite all of the coconut flavored "Irish Potato" candy being sold in the Philadelphia area right now, you will find very few coconuts in Dublin. I checked. For the most part, I don't think our changes to the Irish culture have improved these things much. True Irish music is awesome, I'd rather listen to the Chieftains then that song about Tipperary. The Irish make Bacon and Cabbage, and I would WAY rather eat bacon the corned beef (sorry mom.) And you readers know what good candy Ireland really has.

The Soda Bread, however, is an area where I think improvements stand to be made. Traditional soda bread includes only flour, salt, baking soda, and buttermilk. Ick. The recipe used by the New York Times, Smitten Kitchen, and now myself involves wonderful things like sugar (and lots of it,) butter, and raisins. As I put together my modified "Irish" bread, it occurred to me that with my complete German heritage but newly minted Irish last name, I'm a bit of an American knock-off of Irishness myself!

"Irish" Soda Bread
Adapted (barely) from the NY Times

Ingredients:
-Butter for greasing pan plus 1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted
-3 cups all-purpose flour
-2/3 cup sugar
-1 tablespoon baking powder-1 1/2 teaspoons salt
-1 teaspoon baking soda1
-3/4 cups buttermilk
-2 eggs, well beaten
-1 1/2 cups raisins or currants
-1 1/2 teaspoons caraway seeds

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9-inch oven-proof skillet and line with parchment or waxed paper.

In a bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and baking soda. In a separate bowl, combine the buttermilk, eggs and 2 tablespoons melted butter. Add wet ingredients to dry and stir until just combined. Do not overmix. Stir in the raisins or currants and caraway seeds.

Pour batter into skillet. Brush top with remaining butter. Bake until golden and firm to touch, about 45 minutes to 1 hour. Cool 10 minutes before slicing.

The American bastardization is more like cake, and I've been enjoying it all week with butter spread on it along with my coffee or tea in the morning. The NY Times recommends serving it with really good Irish cheddar and apple slices. However you eat it, you will find it nice and crisp on the outside and soft on the inside, a bit sweet but definitely savory. And if nothing else, it will probably soak up a lot of alcohol, which will be helpful as you drink that oh so authentic green beer.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Porterhouse

Welcome to the Ireland Series Part 3. At the end of part 2, our heros were leaving the Old Jameson Distillery and once again heading out into the rainy streets of Dublin.

In an attempt to drink beer in Ireland that wasn't Guinness (a strange concept, I know,) Heather and I found a place in the Temple bar area called The Porterhouse. This is a microbrewery with a few locations throughout Dublin. I'm a huge fan of microbrews. I like when beer making is treated with care--like an art rather than an industry. So a couple of blocks and over the Grattan Bridge we went, certificates in tow. (I'm sure local bars in Dublin are very impressed with certificates tourists like us get from Guinness and Jameson.) We take a look at the menu and decide that there are things on the menu we can both eat, so we go inside and get a table.

Looking back, I should have asked if they offered a sampler or flight of beers, but it didn't occur to me. I had a pint of the Wrasslers Stout while Heather went with a glass of the Plain Porter. One of the reasons Heather liked Ireland is that they offer beer in a glass--or half pint size. I suppose there are some place in the U.S. that will do that for you but not without a weird look. My Wrasslers was good. Distinct from Guinness insofar as it was hoppier and a tad less malty. It had more in common with the Guinness Foreign Extra that we brought home.

For our next round, I got the exact same thing. I figured I had hit upon a good thing so why change it. Also I was too drunk to form words so all I could do was gesture for another (kidding, mom.) Heather decided to switch it up and get a glass of the Temple Brau. It was clean and a tad on the bitter side. Exactly what you would expect from a German sounding beer.

The drinks paired well with our food. I got a burger and Heather got and Irish stew. I'd comment more on the food but that's really more Heather's department. Some of the staff had t-shirts that said something to the effect of "Food Runner: Don't Ask Me For Anything." I wish I could get away with something like that for my restaurant--a shirt that basically says, "Leave Me Alone."

When we left that night, we were a little alcohol soaked from the sampling we did at Guinness and Jameson plus the couple of rounds we had at Porterhouse. So we stumbled wearily onto the bus that took us home and then stumbled wearily into our hotel room. Thus ended our epic day in which we experienced the mighty triumvirate of Dublin-specific alcohol.

The following day, we met up with our friend Colleen who's in the middle of a graduate program near Dublin. When none of us could decide where to eat, we suggested we go back to Porterhouse. Good beer at reasonable prices. Colleen said she'd never been there before but then she recognized it once we got inside. "Oh yeah, I love this place!" Can Heather pick 'em or what? Heather loves going to cities and finding the insider stuff. In New York she's better then the Not For Tourists guide. She was quite proud of this Dublin find.

This time I got the Brainblasta Ale and Heather and Colleen both got pint bottles of Bulmers Pear Cider. Colleen filled us in on some controversy surrounding Bulmers Pear Cider. Apparently the original recipe contained certain laxative properties that caused people to shy away from it. Colleen assured us that the matter was addressed and that the new formula would not cause that reaction. Perhaps they should keep the old recipe in stores and market it as a laxative. "Bulmers Pear Cider: Provides Essential Roughage" or, "Bulmers Pear Cider: Better Than Metamucil!" It's a goldmine, but I digress.

The Brainblasta was very hoppy and floral--not unlike an IPA. At a lofty 7% alcohol by volume, the tag line on the website is, "Use it. Don't abuse it." The Bulmers was sweet and fruity but not my cup of tea. I prefer a standard cider. It was on this occasion that I had my first order of fish and chips. I thought it would make for nice pub fare to go with my beer and I was right. I suppose anything battered and fried pairs really well with beer. Who knew? Overall, this bar was a great way to end the alcohol themed day of our trip and when we decide to come back to Dublin, we definitely plan to return.

Will's UK Candy Round-Up

A little backstory: Heather and I have been to the UK twice--London in 2005 and Dublin just recently. On both occasions, I marvel at the candy available at convenience stores and share my thoughts with Heather. This time around, she told me to write a blog about it so I would stop pestering her. We selected what I thought was a nice cross section of the candy available and without further ado: Will's UK Candy Round-Up.

Time Out - It's helpful to think of this bar as kind of like a big Kit Kat. It's got a nice crunch to it which is somewhat unique compared to it's UK competition.

Moro - At the heart of Cadbury's Moro bar is what seems to be a chocolate nougat along the lines of a Three Musketeers Bar only darker. It has some crunch to it but rather that a solid cookie backbone, there are bits of cookie--or "biscuit"--scattered throughout. An aspect I thought was unique was that there is a layer of caramel that surounds the entire nougat/cookie nucleus. A membrane, if you will. It's kind of like eating a science project. A delicious science project. On top of this membrane is a coating of chocolate. The bar is kind of big so you really get your money's worth. I would definitely buy this one again.

Aero and Mint Aero - There was a serious ad campaign for Aero going on when we were in Dublin. It seemed like every other bus was plastered with Aero posters. The slogan for Aero is "Feel the Bubbles," which is fun, but tells you nothing about the taste. The bubbles aren't liquid bubbles or anything like that. They're suspended throughout the bar like styrofoam, but tastier. I wouldn't have used the bubbles as a selling point. I've never been eating a candy bar and thought to myself, "This candy bar is good but it could use more bubbles." Nevertheless Aero is an intriguing bar. I think the bubbles help the chocolate melt a little in your mouth, giving the texture a smoothness it might not otherwise have. Both the chocolate and mint flavors are very good. but I prefer the mint.

Crunchie - Heather and I didn't particularly care for this one. At its core there is a honey flavored wafer of some sort--like a weird caramelized cookie. For me, honey and chocolate don't go together particularly well. It's an interesting experience to be sure, but one that I don't have a strong desire to repeat.

Yorkie - I've known about the Yorkie since 2005 but it was only on the Dublin trip that I got around to trying one. The slogan is, "It's Not For Girls." The O in Yorkie contains a depiction of a woman that you might find on a ladies room door. The figure is holding a purse and it has a giant red slash through it. I suppose the marketing relies on reverse psychology to reach out to women. A female might pass a Yorkie on a candy stand and think, "I'll show them." The bar is nothing more than solid milk chocolate perforated into big hunks. I suppose it is pretty intense. Having a giant wad of chocolate in one's mouth is not the most ladylike thing one can do. Perhaps Nestle sees the slogan as nothing more than fair warning.

Starbar - When I picked up a Starbar at the convenience store, I thought for some reason that it would be like a 100 Grand Bar or a giant Ferraro Rocher. The slogan is, "Shot through with Peanuts and Caramel." I was surprised to find that it was actually more like a Reese's Fast Break or a Funny Bone. It has a sort of peanut butter creme filling with the peanuts and caramel under the chocolate coating. Not really my cup of tea but if you like Fast Breaks, you'll probably like Starbar.

Galaxy - No scam here. Just really good chocolate. They're packaged a lot like Dove chocolate is here in the States and with good reason. Very smooth, very rich milk chocolate. We also tried one with a cookie crunch to it which was also very good. Heather also bought a package of Galaxy Mistletoe Kisses--little bite size pieces of Galaxy--for us to enjoy closer to Christmas.

Twirl - A Twirl comes with two little bars about the size of Twix Bars. The filling might be hard to explain. It's just chocolate, but little ribbons of chocolate. Like somebody took a sheet of chocolate and crumpled it up into a cylinder. Not rolled but crumpled. And once it's in cylinder form, they coat it in chocolate. It's good, but I got kind of bored with it. I don't know that there's a need to put two in the same package.

Flake - A Flake Bar is like a Twirl Bar except it's bigger, there's only one of them and it has no chocolate coating. It's just the crumpled up chocolate ribbon. Interesting but brittle. Little flakes of chocolate were getting away from me and landing on the table. I'm fairly surprised that they are able to manufacture and ship these without the chocolate coming apart.

Those are all the candies we tried. We would have tried more but this is how Heather gets me to go on European vacations in the first place. She bribes me with candy. Maybe next time I can buy a whole box of something. I'll be saving up my Euros.

The Old Jameson Distillery

When we last left our heros, they were leaving the Guinness storehouse and thrust onto the rainy streets of Dublin. Since we heard their exciting adventure, they trudged two blocks and hailed a cab. This cab sped off across the Liffey River to arrive at the front door of The Old Jameson Distillery.

The Old Jameson Distillery tour starts with a small educational video that demonstrates the long history of Jameson Whiskey and celebrates the care that goes into each batch. Like Guinness, Jameson came about at around the time of the American revolution, so all of the imagery seems downright patriotic. The ships in the movie look like eighteenth century naval ships. Jameson takes their hooch delivery very seriously. They portray John Jameson as a mythic hero--taking his time to make sure the ingredients are measured right, paying more for only the finest barley, heroically waving away salesmen who offer false aging additives for his whiskey. According to the people at Jameson, John Jameson was a hell of a guy--on a par with Superman perhaps. All he needed was a cape. The Jameson website refers to him as a legend. I don't know about that but I did hear that he once fought the sasquatch.

After the video, we were all itching to get on with the tour so that we could get our shot of Jameson we were promised. But first a few matters of business. Everyone on the tour gets a free shot of Jameson with their admission, but from each tour group, eight lucky people are selected to be part of a free additional whiskey tasting. Normally there are about forty people in a tour group, but we had about twelve. So our odds were good. Our tour guide, Erin, had eight batons to give out. She asked if there were any women who wanted to participate. Heather's hand flew up. She's in. Now the gentlemen. Erin saw my hand but walked past me because she didn't want two people from the same group. Bummer. Heather took pity on me and blurted out, "It's our honeymoon." It was pretty shameless and underhanded, but what can I say? Those are the qualities I look for in a woman. Her ploy worked though and we both set out on our tour, batons in hand.

This tour was considerably shorter than the Guinness storehouse. We got to see displays with miniature versions of all the equipment used to make whiskey. There were mannequins of all the people who worked in the distillery. And Erin was there to field any questions that we had. I'll say that as much as I enjoy the freedom of a self guided tour, sometimes it's nice to have a guide lead you and tell you what's important to look at. At one point, we realized someone in our group spoke only French. Then Erin started speaking French back. Jameson employs only the most talented of the Irish citizenry to lead booze seeking tourists around.

One of the parts on the tour that I thought was particularly neat was a display in which a bunch of barrels were stacked horizontally with glass bottoms. They contained whiskeys at different stages of aging. The one on the left was clear and had barely been aged at all. I think the final one had been aged eighteen years and had a considerably darker color due to the wood barrels. Also there was far less liquid in this barrel, due to evaporation, which is known as "The Angel's Share." Those are some drunk angels.

Then the tour moved into the Jameson Distillery bar. The eight golden ticket holders (or green baton holders) sat around a big table with green place mats. On those place mats were three shots of whiskey: Jack Daniels (American), Johnny Walker Black (Scotch), and Jameson (Irish). We were given a brief tutorial about each. Irish whiskeys like Jameson are triple distilled, giving it a smooth clean finish. Scotches tend to be distilled twice and American whiskey only once. We tried the other two. They were good. I'm not the biggest fan of blended scotch but the Johnny Walker Black was okay. It had a very smokey from the particular type of oak barrels it's aged in. Erin joked that when in Ireland, the traditional thing to do with a shot of scotch is to hurl it over your shoulder and onto the ground. The Jack Daniels is made from corn so it has a sweeter more syrupy taste.

Finally we got to the Jameson and it was good. Of course it was good, it's Jameson. I didn't need to go to Ireland to figure that out. To cap off the tasting Erin went around the table and asked each of us which one was our favorite, keeping in mind that we were sitting in the middle of the old Jameson distillery in Ireland. She started with me and when I answered, "Jameson Irish Whiskey" she responded with, "Good man." Everyone else at the table followed suit and we were rewarded with a shot of Jameson. As an added bonus, we all got a certificate saying we completed the tasting. The batons that we received at the beginning of the tour were actually tubes we could hose our certificates in. Between this and the perfect pint diploma, I'm getting certification left and right. I'm looking forward to impressing people in conversation with my drinking credentials. I suppose my next step is a drinking masters program.

We ended the tour with the obligatory stroll through the gift shop where we purchased a small bottle of their twelve year old whiskey. (We learned on the tour that the age of their non-premium whiskey is typically five to seven years.) We haven't tried it yet but we look forward to it. Between the Guinness storehouse and the Jameson Distillery we had had a pretty full day. But there was one more stop on our Dublin drinking tour that we needed to make. Stay tuned next week for part three of the Ireland series.

Guinness is Good for You

Top a' tha marnin' toe ya. Heather and I just recently got back from Ireland as many of you know and we had a fantastic time. One of the Highlights of our trip was visiting the Guinness storehouse. Don't get me wrong. Heather and I know how touristy a thing this is to do, but if we didn't go it would be like going to India and not seeing the Taj Mahal. (Side note: The Irish might consider the storehouse a thing of equal beauty and spiritual significance.) We trekked through the rain and wind to the west side of the city center to get there and we arrived just in time to grab a departing tour. Or should I say intro to a tour because the tour is self guided.

The first two things they tell you are equally ridiculous. They start by showing you a copy of the lease that Arthur Guinness signed to build the brewery at St. James's Gate. The lease is for nine thousand years. This was in 1759. This is the eighteenth century equivalent of saying elevendy billion years or perhaps saying forever and ever and ever. The second thing they tell you is that the interior of the storehouse is built in the shape of a giant pint glass. He then goes on to tell us how many pints of Guinness it would take to fill a pint glass that size. I don't remember the number because I didn't care. It's not like they would do it. That would be foolish--entertaining but foolish. Hearing that made be think that perhaps the Irish think in those terms on a daily basis. If an Irishman were to see the Grand Canyon, do you suppose his first thought would be "I wonder how many pints of Guinness..."

The ground floor gives you a rundown of the ingredients used to make beer and how Guinness's ingredients are better than everyone else's. It then goes on to say that the fifth ingredient is the founder himself, Arthur Guinness. I'm not sure whether they're saying that his interminable spirit brought the company to fruition, or if they're saying that his ashes were scattered amongst the ingredients thereby making him the fifth ingredient. You know, like a soylent green situation. Also, because the brewery was founded shortly before the American revolution, the portraiture of Arthur Guinness makes him look like a founding father or something. It might be that in Ireland, brewing a decent beer is as important as founding a nation. Then moving upward there are little videos and displays showing you how Guinness is made. There's even a little tray of roasted barley to taste. Eating roasted barley is a lot like eating coffee grounds--interesting until about two second into chewing. Then you just have to deal with it until swallowing.

There are lots of little videos about how Guinness was transported through the years. The tone of the videos makes the mission seem so noble--like this is God's work. Don't get me wrong, I love Guinness, but I don't think the motives were entirely altruistic. The highlight of the floor is the tasting lab where we both got a free taste of Guinness. A little something to tide us over until our free pint at the top.

The next floor is a tribute to advertising throughout Guinness's history. Man is there a lot of it. Much of it includes dubious health claims like "Guinness is good for you" or "Guinness makes you strong" spoken by virile men with handlebar mustaches. They even pulled a publicity stunt at one point in which thousands of bottles were dropped into the ocean each containing a message from king Neptune telling you to drink Guinness. Apparently they are still being found today. I will say that these ads, despite being false and environmentally unfriendly, were effective because I really wanted my Guinness. We blew through the next few floors because they didn't have as much stuff on them.

We got to the penultimate floor and it's perfect pint display. This is where they have a bunch of taps set up and you get to try your hand at pouring the perfect pint. You have the option of either getting your free pint this way or going upstairs to the gravity bar and having them pour it. Heather didn't want to be put on the spot--also she's lazy--but I'm all in. I waited patiently in line until it was my turn where I was instructed to start pouring with the glass at a 45 degree angle, straighten it out and stop at mid-harp (the Guinness glasses have a harp logo near the top.) Then I was told to wait two minutes and then fill up the rest by pushing back on the tap (rather than towards me) to top it off with only Guinness and no nitrogen. Very scientific stuff, I won't bore you. My performance was good enough to earn me an honorary certificate.

I had my pint; the only thing left to do was get Heather hers. We headed up to the gravity bar, got her pint and sat down. The bar has a 360 degree view of Dublin. It would be a really cool place to hang out again if we didn't have to pay eleven euros (student rate--because we're liars) to get in. The view was rainy but pleasant and a great way to enjoy our well earned stouts.

Before we left we hit the gift shop where I got my dad chocolate in the shape of a Guinness pint and we got ourselves two bottles of Guinness Foreign Extra--one of their original recipes with extra hops designed for foreign travel. I've never had it before and I didn't know if they sell it in the U.S. We only got around to trying it two nights ago and it was pretty good. It was nice and hoppy and not as thick while still maintaining its Guinness-ness. I think I like the draught better but sometimes it's nice to live life on the edge. I'm glad we went to the storehouse. It gave us something fun, interesting and uniquely Irish to do on a crappy day--which there are a lot of. I would recommend it highly.

When in Dublin

Greetings blogosphere! Oh how I've missed you. When my plane landed, I had 208 items in my Google Reader. Apparently you don't spend much time reading or writing blogs on your honeymoon. The wedding was great, and I wish I could tell you all about the food at my brunch reception, the eggs, the potato dish, the apple crisp, the cake, but I'm afraid I didn't really eat all that much of it. After all the planning and selecting, I was nervous and excited and laced into a corset, all of which equaled not very hungry. I hear the waffles were quite good though.

The second I got to the Philadelphia airport I did one of the things I've been dreaming about in these final months of diet and portion control, I ordered a giant Cheese Steak. It was awesome and gooey and the chipped beef had that almost crispy and not soggy thing going; it was pretty much heaven on a roll. Screw you corset, I'm allowed to eat again. I've bagged me a man and now it's time to gain 30 pounds, wear nothing but sweatpants, and stop washing my hair. That sounds about right.

The honeymoon in Dublin was fantastic and, as with any trip abroad, littered with gourmet quandaries. Ireland is a country nearly devoid of coffee. Espresso drinks, no problem, but the Emerald Isle does not understand the delicate beauty of a simple cup of coffee. I am a coffee snob, I get mine every morning from a French press, but the few cups of java we did come across were instant. Shutter. The first morning we entered a shop called "Insomnia Coffee Company" and I ordered a cup of coffee, without looking at the menu. You generally don't when COFFEE is right there in the name of the place. That name was so intriguing, I like the idea of them hawking their beverages by advertising that it will give you a sleeping disorder. They asked if I needed anything in it, and answered "cream" for which I received a strange look. I was then handed an Americano with whipped cream on top. I stuck to cappuccinos for the rest of the trip. For the most part, to save a bit of money we stuck to pub food, potato wedges, sausages and the like. I could already feel the pounds creeping back, but as it was my honeymoon (and I'm heading for the sweatpants) I choose to ignore. I made sure to order Irish Stew at one point, with its hunks of lamb and potato, which made for a deeply satisfying dish. Will, who is not a soup fan, looked at the gravy based dish and remarked that it was kind of like a lamb pot roast, which with its slow cooking in a bed of vegetables is pretty apt.

Will and I have a friend from college, Colleen (left), who is doing grad school in Ireland. One night we met up with her, and after a few rounds, I insisted we find a pub that had food, as we had theatre tickets for later in the evening, and it would be nice if we were coherent enough to remember the show. (The Birds at the Gate Theatre by the way. It was quite good, I'd recommend it) We had started to brainstorm about where to go next, when Colleen exclaimed "Chippers!"

Inquisitive looks were proffered her way. She explained that we needed Chippers, or burgers or some such to soak up the alcohol. After she started suggesting places, we realized she meant fast food. Apparently, after I looked it up, the term used to refer to Fish and Chip shops in the UK, but now has come to encompass anywhere that sort of does fast food with fries. Now, here's the thing. I don’t eat fast food. Ever. I gave it up cold turkey almost 5 years ago, and while I occasionally break down and eat a fry that might have been made under golden arches, they really haven't gotten my money in years. I watched Super Size Me and read Fast Food Nation and that was pretty much the end of that. But I was traveling in a foreign country and Colleen insisted that if you've been drinking in Dublin and you need to get something in your stomach, Chippers are the way to go.

Refusing to give my Euros to an American company in this transatlantic adventure we settled on Supermacs, which is basically the same thing except it's Irish so that makes it slightly okay in my head. In we went. Will chose to go with chicken tenders, but if I was doing this thing, I was doing it full tilt, cheese burgers with fries and a soda. It was…. well kinda awful. The beef was flavorless, the tomato was under ripe, the bun less then fresh. The fries (or "chips") were actually pretty decent though, leaning toward that Irish form of potato wedge rather then shoesting, so there was some recognizable vegetable in there, and I of course poured on a bunch of salt. Just like the old days. Will's chicken was a bit more meaty then most fast food, but they lacked crispiness, the breading was just a bit too soft.

It did the job though, and we arrived at the theatre ready for some chilling drama. As we waited in the lobby there was coffee being sold in real china cups, cause the Europeans are awesome with their shunning of Styrofoam. Two Euros later I took a hopeful sip… damn. Instant.