Celtic Cuisine

So I am done with the semester and now preparing for the Ireland trek, much like Star Trek, but in Ireland, not the stars, and with no aliens or pointy ears, except for the faeries. Though some of the students going on the study tour are weird.

In the prep class, we teach them about the Celts. In Dora Jane Hamblin's "Once Maligned, Celts Are Now Touted as the First Europeans," we learn that they were "Wild and woolly...from their notable head and body hair." As you will no doubt remember from my bloging about it over a year ago, my family lore is that we are that genetic stew Scotch-Irish. But clearly from Hamblin's definition I must be some part Celt and if that weren't enough: "They [the woolly Celts] never went in for what the Romans called 'city eating,' that is, elaborate sauces and spices." We all know how I feel about condiments! I have found my people. And they are dead.

Burgers and Porn

So tonight in reward for walking in the park and getting good news at work, I ate at Big Daddy's Burger Bar on my beloved East Blvd. Okay, so it's a horrible name. An awful name. But I am obsessed with this place. It has a simple plan, beautifully executed. I ate a burger--condiment-free, of course--and sweet potato fries. Ohhhh...sweet, sweet, sweet potato fries. They are so good--they're porn-like guilt-ridden (back to that damn silly name). I should stop.

Condiments Kill

I have food issues. One really: I don't eat condiments. This simple principle simply pisses people off for no apparent reason to me. And they demand to know why. My reply, "Why would you?" These so-called people clearly didn't grow up on the PSA below.