My apology to St. Patrick

I'm no genealogist, but I'm nearly certain our family contains not a single drop of Irish blood. Sure, N and I will delightedly swig a pint of Guinness from time to time and I love to read Tomie dePaolo's rendition of "Jamie O'Roarke and the Big Potato" with my best attempt at a very jovial Irish accent, but that's the extent of it. Being a good American, I feel I should embrace as many cultural observances as possible to show our children the joy of this country's rich seasons and celebrations, so it was my aim this week to make St. Patrick's Day special. Oh it sounds good, and I've given it a hardy effort, but I've failed. Try as I might, I'm not even feeling the tiniest bit green.

Corned Beef and Cabbage

At Trader Joe's last week, I saw that classic hunk of pinkish beef coated in peppercorns, sitting in its vacuum-sealed package with a Celtic-knot border around the label. It looked so festive -- all green and Irishy -- so I picked it up, called mom for instructions on boiling meat and got underway last weekend with my first attempt at serving corned-beef and cabbage. It was a dismal failure. Its pink coloring never went away during the simmering process, so my visual sense of when this piece of meat should be ready was totally skewed. By the time it started to look a little brownish it was way overdone. My eyes widened as I stuck in the instant-read thermometer and watched it spin rapidly past the 200-degree mark. I knew it was a disaster. And it was: salty meat, mushy cabbage, bland carrots.

Little C loved it, however, and happily noshed the leftovers next afternoon--not an entire flop, perhaps.


Second attempt: Bubble and Squeak

Potatoes are Irish. It's hard to mess up potatoes. So I found instructions in the Saturday paper to make the cutely yclept "Bubble and Squeak" -- a twist on potato fritters that contains sauerkraut. Now there's a food whose culture I understand! My mostly German grandmother made sauerkraut for every holiday and it's one of my favorite foods. Perhaps a marriage of German and Irish cuisine would put a better spin on my attempt at St. Paddy's Day cooking. After church on Sunday, we served the fritters alongside bratwurst. In a word: Disappointing. Drat!

Again, C helped himself to seconds and thirds, then nibbled the remainders at our picnic lunch the next day. Little trooper, he is.


Seeing green

OK, so by Monday I realized cooking for St. Paddy's Day was out, so I moved on. Perhaps L, C and I could wear green, print some information off the Internet about St. Patrick and make some kind of rainbow-pot-o-gold craft for the big day. This soon was greeted with withered enthusiasm. We hadn't really spoken much about what you do on St. Patrick's Day until L prompted a conversation about the subject on the drive home from cooking class Monday. It went like this:

L from the backseat: "Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day."
I at the wheel: "Oh? How do you know?"
"Miss Debbie told us today in class."
"Oh. So what does that mean?" fishing for what she might already know about the day.
"We must wear green for the leprechauns," L replied.
"What happens if you don't?"
"I don't know."
"I think they'll pinch you," I teased.
"Oh," she said, thinking it over a bit. "I think I'm going to wear whatever color I want to tomorrow...like pink or purple. That's my preference."

And today, I came downstairs and wished L a happy St. Patrick's Day. I showered and put on a green and blue shirt.

"Are you wearing green for St. Patrick's day?" L asked after she saw me dressed for the day.

"Yes," I replied.

She skipped off to her room, and several minutes later she emerged in a purple-and-pink dress.

"This is what I prefer," she said.

And that was it. So St. Paddy's ended up like any other ordinary day. Why force it?

Oh, make no mistake, I've got my sights fixed firmly on Cinco de Mayo now. I'm thinking tacos, DIY pinata, Spanish vocabulary lessons. Oh, the possibilities.