Forgetting how dark it gets in the afternoon I had to take the torch out into the dusky garden to collect some spinach for dinner. The moon was near full, its melancholy face looking down at the bright shining approach of Jupiter. Pulling up my hood to keep out the cold wind, I noticed the celestial light reflecting off the plastic arches of the polytunnel and began to consider the awe inspiring reality of being on a spinning suspended object in the vastness of space….then I remembered I was really hungry. I’d already decided on something that ticks the winter fare boxes; creamy, cheesy, savoury with sweet, delicious veg plus a glass of wine and candlelight equals a very satisfying dinner.
While grilling the courgettes the kids put on ‘Can I kick it’ by A Tribe Called Quest and stumbled their way through the lyrics. I smiled at the memories this song evokes for me, being a real iconic dancefloor tune for us back in the day when we partied all night long. There is nothing like music to transport you, to move you or to save your mortal soul as Don McLean suggests. There is surely an inbuilt human love of music the world over, subconscious toe tapping, humming, head nodding along or going wild with your own moves. Music plays a big role in our house and although the kids haven’t picked up an instrument (they may be packed off to learn guitar with their uncles at some stage!) we love to sing and dance to any and every genre and often make up our own songs in goofy silliness. This morning we had Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture followed immediately by The Banana Song, I’m A Banana. My parents have a wide and varied collection of music and growing up we were exposed to an eclectic mix, from Lloyd Cole to Led Zepplin, Michael Jackson to Mozart and The Clash to The Dubliners. In my teenage years it was punk but often I go back to listening those beautiful folk songs I remember hearing when my parents were relaxing in the evening or making the dinner, when they had friends round or on a quiet Sunday morning.
When we’re finished dinner the kids go off for some tv time and I’m left alone with the candles and a sense of quiet loneliness so I put on Niamh Parsons ‘The Tinkerman’s Daughter’ and revel in nostalgia and heartache. Listen to it now, while you read on.
I love this song, especially if I feel a little emotional already; I have a certain easy empathy for the sad songs, the tragic stories, that bleak romanticism. I know the Irish are famous for the ballad, the sorrow of war, famine, lost love and oppression; we all have our favourites, perhaps sympathetic through ancestral blood maybe something to do with an inherited hand down of generational tragedy! There’s a great parody here but many folk songs across the world are about the challenges of the people, suffering or lamenting for simpler times. Even more recent songs in the folk scene continue to pull at the heart strings; from musicians such as Joshua Burnside, Ye Vagabonds and Lankum. Maybe I just love an excuse to cry and the epic sadness of many Irish folk songs encourage the tears freely. It is often the descriptive detail, the poetic turn of phrase on the everyday that I am drawn to, making the lyrics as important as the melody with the relatable imagery bringing it to life. Last verse, ‘And yet when he hears iron-shod wheels crunch on gravel…’ goosebumps every time!
When I was in my early 20’s dad and I went off on a trip down to Killarney; we climbed Torc Mountain, hiked to O’Sullivans Cascade through Tomies wood, scoured the Reeks for a glimpse of the White-Tailed Sea Eagles, we explored Ross Castle and Muckross and the lush rainforests of the Kingdom and of course had pints in town. We’ve been away just the two of us several times throughout my life; something dad tried to make sure he did with myself and my brothers.
As my children are getting older, I realise the huge importance of this, where your attention is inevitably split, it’s hard to get that lovely one on one. But when you devote some quality time you get to know their personality better, their sense of humour, you get to chat properly without interruption, to do things together without having to suggest taking turns or compromise with siblings. I try to do this more and more, even just a day out together, before they don’t want to hang around with me!
Our soundtrack for that trip all the way to Kerry and around the Ring, mostly included Jethro Tull and Supertramp. But on the way up the road home as we drove through a small, picturesque glen passing over a little stone bridge, dad turned to me and said ‘do you think this could be the exact spot where the North Kerry hills cut the Feale at Listowel?’ the memory of that still brings a tear to my eye.
Something to soothe sadness/warm cockles
I started off with the idea of croutons, thinking how yum they could be semi squidgy with a creamy cheesy sauce, a la fondue but with some greenery in the form of the very last of the courgettes and spinach and a few other random bits and pieces from the cupboard.
Ingredients
Serves 1-2
2-3 medium courgettes
Old bread-a few thick slices, crusts cut off and chopped into large croutons.
200g Spinach
50ml Cream
30g finely grated Parmesan; 20g for the spinach 10g for the topping
Chopped red or green Chilli
Tblsp Pistachios
Tblsp Kalamata Olives
Lemon zest from half a lemon
Winter herbs; Rosemary, Thyme and Sage about 2 tsp finely chopped
One garlic clove, finely grated
Salt
Pepper
Olive oil
Method
First get the grill on high and slice the courgette into thick slices just under a centimeter, put on a baking sheet or tray and drizzle over olive oil and salt and pepper. Put under the hot grill, meanwhile wash and chop the spinach, stalks in small chunks and leaves a little looser, put in a small saucepan with a splash of water and bring to a simmer, put the lid on and let cook for a couple of minutes, drain off the water and set aside, squeeze out as much water as you can.
Make the topping-chop the pistachios and olives together with the parmesan, chilli and the lemon zest and tblsp olive oil. Check the courgettes, if they have started to brown and caramelize, flip them over carefully, sprinkle over the chopped herbs and garlic. Put the spinach back into the pan over a medium high heat with the parmesan and cream and let cook for a couple of minutes. Add the croutons to the courgettes and let toast in the grill.
Put the spinach cream at the bottom of your bowl, then the courgettes and croutons and spoon over the savoury topping.
I so enjoyed your musical journey—and your passage about generational sorrows reminded me of my long-gone Irish grandmothers, and also their grandmothers, both born in Ireland. Thank you for another lovely post!
Photo credit for ASIWYFA Ciara McMullan thank you