stellinas

Liam O' Leary had been a food critic and famous restaurateur as well as a chef and TV presenter for nigh on twenty years, he loved traveling around Ireland tasting new recipes and meeting new people.

His most recent jaunt had been up to Bundoran where he had tasted the best Irish stew of his life, he had to admit some of the finest cooking in the country could be found in the kitchens of Irish homes.

He had been toying with an idea for a while and had decided that he would follow through-'Cook of the County'-maybe followed by country, even the world. Liam was ambitious if nothing else. So, he decided to start in Bundoran which is why, one sunny August morning he was driving along the country roads, top down, singing along to his favourite tunes.

All of Bundoran was talking about it, Assumpta Duncannon was full of it , naturally.

''Liam O' Leary, back again, he must have been impressed, and why not to be sure, we have some of the finest cooks in the county here, maybe the country! '',she stated, preening herself somewhat, of course everyone knew that she was only considering herself.

Assumpta knew she would be picked to represent her county and started to scour old recipes to find something that would,'' knock their socks off'' as she so eloquently put it to her husband as they sat eating dinner one evening.

‘’Don’t get yer hopes up me darliin’, yer know how you get’’, he sighed.

‘’Well, that’s a fine how do yer do, to be sure, Michael Duncannon!'' she huffed waltzing into the kitchen to get out her old recipes books, handed down to her from her grandma and ma.

The decision was made , she was going to make Irish Boxty, light ,fluffy, melt-in-the-mouth potato cakes, mmmm, she could taste her ma’s now, irresistible !

In the weeks leading up to Liam's arrival, Assumpta cooked so many Boxty that Michael had begun to dread mealtimes. At first it had been a nice change ,but now well-Boxty with ham and eggs at breakfast ,okay tasty for sure, Boxty with Sunday lunch, shepherd's pie, Irish stew, steak pie.

He'd even begun to have nightmares about the blessed things!If he never saw another Boxty in his life, it wouldn't be too soon! What would it be like if she got through to the tournament and then all those stages after!

So, after waiting eagerly for eight weeks, eight weeks of Boxty hell for Michael Duncannon, the whole town had turned out to welcome Liam.

It was a red letter day for all.

Assumpta had donned her favourite hat and splashed out on a new lipstick. All the contestants from the previous fayre were there carrying their new recipes for tasting. Jim McDonald’s stew had already won a place since he had taken first prize at the fayre.

Everyone was sampling each other’s wares.

Finally came the Boxty tasting, they sure looked good.

Everyone delved in. Everyone except Assumpta that was, insisting that her fare was there to be sampled by others, not herself.

"All the more for us then, so there is, cheers, Mrs.D!" Jim McDonald exclaimed while tucking in.

The others followed suit.

It soon became apparent amongst themselves that something had gone wrong.

Assumpta had no idea in the slightest, mistaking the slow chewing and expressions on their faced for the desire to savour her vittles and resigned defeat that their dishes would never stand a chance against her famous Boxty.

The tasters began to sneak looks at each other, their eyes speaking volumes.

They were torn between telling her the truth and being freed from the possibility of eating any more and keeping quiet, letting Assumpta work out for herself what the matter was as she had stepped on so many toes throughout the entire thing, it was a wonder they weren't all sporting bruises!

Assumpta revelled in it what she mistook for awe.

Even when Jim McDonald asked with a grimace; "Are these supposed to taste like this, Mrs.D?" the only reasonable explanation that entered Assumpta's head was envy.

"Coveting thy neighbour's talents does not become you, Jim McDonald!" she harrumphed, sticking her nose in the air.

"In that case, it tastes grand, so it does, eh, ladies?" Jim forced down another mouthful in defiance alongside a chorus of fake agreement from the other slighted competitors


‘’Ach, I can’t understand it!’’ not to get a place, I thought my Boxty would have triumphed’’, she bemoaned to Michael at the dinner table again, that evening.

‘’Ah, never mind darlin’,yer can’t win ‘em all yer know’’ was her husband's level reply.

Washing the dishes, Assumpta never noticed the dregs of sugar in the salt tin as she cast her Boxty in the bin.

Nor did she notice Michael's sigh of relief as he settled down to read his newspaper.

THE END

Notes: This is sort of a sequel to my other story about the fayre over here: https://stellinas.dreamwidth.org/3927.html (you don't need to read that to read this one though).

Recipe for Irish Boxty:
https://iamafoodblog.com/potato-pancakes-like-youve-never-seen-before-irish-boxty-recipe/