A surprise for the Outcast

For the third time this year I’ve seen the Aurora, the sky on fire with vivid red and twinkling shafts of supernatural greens shimmering across the dark.  Its bizarre beauty magnifies our tiny place in the universe, we are lost amidst the vastness. Zooming into our little house and garden and all the memories and experiences built in this miniscule part of the world feels comforting, there’s a desire to turn inward.  Autumn, our hibernation, our retreat into the dark.

I had lovely news this week; Gorse has been named as a finalist in The Irish Food Writing Awards along with four other fantastic Substack writers from the island in the Irish Food Blog category (Chip Paper, Sinead Smyth, Ocras and The Kitchen Press) . Once again, thank you all for being here and supporting my writing week on week, it means so much and I love this community.  It feels a bit self indulgent to bring attention to it, I’ve always struggled with that sort of thing, a bit awkward to self promote, lacking the swagger, or even, potentially the self belief.

For me being a finalist means more than just an an appreciation for this blog; it’s a wider acknowledgement of writing and food from the north of this island; shining a much needed and much overdue light in the dark.  Imagine constantly feeling you live somewhere with no presence, trying to prove relevance, shouting when no one listens, an island on an island.  What has our history, the politics done to us?  Six counties left alone, not part of the psyche, not visited; sectarianism, flags, religion, bonfires, marches, songs, all these things loudly overshadowing the things that matter, our real culture silently dissolving in hatred.  We know all this, we tread carefully, not wanting to offend or take a stand. And yet it has left us in no mans land.

I’ve seen a map of the UK with Northern Ireland floating off to the left detached and bizarre, an offshore community, an after thought. I’ve even seen the opposite where we’re cut out of the rest of the island. How weird, does no one else scrunch their face at the madness of it? I recoil, I wince. I’ve been told the food of the north is irrelevant, I see us left out of the media time and time again, the outcasts.

The produce on our whole island is incredible, I source it carefully, I research and I make contact and build relationships. I forge friendships, I tell my new friends, I show them how amazing it is up here.  I love meeting new people, fascinated by folk. I’ve invited so many of my peers who I love and respect to come cook for our community, desperate to be part of their world too.  Still, I feel a little lonely. 

What is it about this place that doesn’t feel part of something bigger? I feel sneering, are you laughing at us? Are you jealous? Are you scared? Don’t you feel the warmth and connection of our amazing people?
We have the most incredible things here, let me show you, I show it off every week. I often feel like I can’t say these things, wondering if people will roll their eyes at the northerner complaining.

Time and time again we are pigeonholed into the land known for ‘delicacies’ like soda bread and tray bakes, the comical, quirky cousins.  I feel it like a blow to the stomach, belittling what we have, making us cower back to our station, simplifying our cuisine and talent. We are world class, we are outstanding. Look at Lir, Feast, Broughgammon, Maegden. Look at Folk, Bullhouse, Boundary, PiGuy, Muddlers, Ox, Roam, Waterman, Yugo, Igloo, Jumon, Pie Queen, Established, Assemble, Bakari, Mikes Fancy Cheese, Stereo, Póca and all of these just a tiny handful; shimmering stars in the vastness. 

I head off to the island, on a mission to cycle west to south and cover the full seven miles length.  I contemplate the feeling of achievement, a sense of pride flows over me.  My writing can feel small or unheard but every week seeing you all read, comment and subscribe to my words feels hugely humbling.  I hope that I am shining a light for you, encouraging you to appreciate what we have, to seek out the quality produce, wonderful people or to visit us here in our special, incredible landscape.

Cheers to you, one and all. Thank you thank you thank you.