What I truly love about St. Patrick’s Day is the simplicity of the whole thing. Rise early, comb the closet for the suitable green couture, dust off last year’s plastic hat, and find your way to an Irish Pub. The demands are few, and the rewards are many. Unfortunately, on this fine March morning, we find ourselves where we were last year at this time–still unable to procure that coveted seat at the bar. The ongoing threat of COVID continues to hinder our revelries and our need to claim in mass on this particular day that we are all Irish!
While there may be a good reason to call into question some of the exuberant behavior of the felt shamrock crowd, I still support the idea of human beings coming together to celebrate the possibility that we are all the same–because whether we like it or not, we are all the same–Irish, French, German, Catholic, Hindu, Muslim, true-believers, non-believers, black, white, brown, red, yellow, and yes even Republicans and Democrats. And after this brutal year of enduring a global pandemic along with the normal maladies that plague our kind, and for the sake of the children in Syria, Yemen, Myanmar, and for those gathering at our southern border–I pray for more days where we come together to celebrate our common humanity!
Happy ST. Patrick’s Day!
To help you enjoy your in-home High Holy Day we invite you to listen to some great Celtic music by Dave McBride and the superb Irish band Runa at our free downloadable podcast site by clicking on Sit Downs and Sessions.
This moment of sublime male contentment was captured outside the Tir na nOg Irish pub in Trenton, New Jersey on March 17, 2009. Buried behind those smiling faces are most likely the concerns of that very difficult year in American history. Our economy was still in the grip of the “Great Recession” and the earliest cases of what would become the N1H1 global pandemic were just coming to light. But on that glorious sunny afternoon, these gentlemen took their pints to the patio in order to practice a bit of social distancing from the mass of humanity that had gathered inside the late Banjo Billy Briggs’ fabled Irish establishment.
Sadly, this year most of the pubs are shuttered, and the pipes will not be calling. Nature has demanded that we honor the spirit of Erin in gentler tones and more intimate settings. But as I look back on that St. Patrick’s Day of eleven years ago, I am reminded that we as a nation have faced similar hardships–and through the pain and the tears there has always been ample reason to raise our voices in song and our pints in celebration!
So in the hope of enhancing your housebound revelries we invite you to enjoy the music and tavern tales in this second installment of our St. Patrick’s Day podcast at Sit Downs and Sessions.
Please click on the images below to get a more in-depth read on those Irish taverns featured in this week’s episode.
I was tempted to write another lengthy treatise on the Republican’s rather uninspired approach to healthcare. But in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I’ve decided to suspend with the usual political pontificating, and instead offer the possibility for some real healing. Because, quite frankly, I’d rather have my health than healthcare. And there are certainly no forces in the universe more healing than good music and good cookies. And for this St. Patrick’s Day celebration we are able to provide you with both by way of the generous nature of the kind souls in the Celtic band Runa.
During a recent visit to the Bleecker Street Cafe, broadcast live every Friday noon to three over the airwaves and internet at WDVR-FM, we were not only treated to some absolutely magnificent Irish music, but Shannon Lambert-Ryan, the band’s lead vocal, also brought along some of her shortbread cookies–baked to her exacting specifications. And for the very first time on this side of the pond, we are pleased to make that recipe available to a hungry public. And while you’re waiting on the shortbread, we suggest a wee dram, a tall pint, and a long listen to the music of Runa!
1/2 cup butter at room temperature
1/3 cup powdered sugar (unsifted)
1/4 tsp. vanilla (optional – but it’s really good!)
1 cup flour (unsifted)
Cream the butter until it’s light. Cream in the powdered sugar, then the vanilla. Now work in the flour. Knead the dough on a flourless board until nice and smooth. For a pan, you can use a clay cookie press or metal cake pan. Spray the pan very lightly with a non-stick vegetable cooking oil spray. Firmly press dough into the shortbread pan. Prick the entire surface with a fork, and bake the shortbread right in the pan at 325 degrees Fahrenheit for about 30-35 minutes, or until lightly browned. After you take the pan out of the oven, let the shortbread cool in the pan for about 10 minutes before you loosen the edges with a knife. Flip the pan over with a wooden board (sometimes it helps to tap the bottom of the pan to help – do not shake the pan or the shortbread will break). Cut the shortbread into serving pieces while it is still warm.
“Showtime is over. We are not electing an entertainer-in-chief. Showmanship is fun, but it is not the kind of leadership that will truly change America,” Governor Chris Christie commenting about Donald Trump at a January campaign stop in New Hampshire
Perhaps it was merely a matter of window dressing on Donald Trump’s own behalf that motivated him to include Governor Christie as part of the political backdrop at the makeshift press room at Mar-a-Lago after Tuesday night’s election returns. The Donald could tout a bit of inside the Republican establishment support while basking in the glow of those very favorable primary results courtesy of the faithful that bank on Trump’s brand of outside the Beltway salvation. But the bigger question remains–just what are Mr. Christie’s motivations for taking the stage at the potential winter White House in Palm Beach?
One might wonder could there possibly be enough room on the same playground for these two blustering, bellicose bullies. And the look in the Governor’s eyes the other night indicated either similar misgivings, or just maybe he was feeling an attack of Catholic conscience coming on. For any of us that have had a past with the Church of Rome, there is always that recollection of some priest or nun that reminded us to be weary of the sin of guilt by association.
There are those pundits and commentators that are suggesting that Governor Christie is simply continuing to set his sights on Washington. Speculation abounds about the possible appointment to attorney general under a Trump presidency. And yes, I could easily imagine Chris and Donald sipping pina coladas at the estate in Palm Beach as they review who on the president’s enemies list should be subject to federal prosecution.
As for myself, I believe Governor Christie was in Florida on the evening of Super Tuesday because he simply can’t stand the idea of having to spend any more time in the Garden State than is absolutely necessary. His travels over the past several years have made that fact abundantly clear. And for the better part of the rest of March, he will most likely not be seen anywhere near the vicinity of the New Jersey Statehouse. And I find that all to be very troubling. Because while there may be many important dates in the month of March that will require the governor to function as the commander-in-chief toady to the Trump campaign–there is no more important date than that of the 17th.
And any self-respecting, bona fide Trenton politician will be spending St. Patrick’s Day at the Tir na nog Irish Pub!
“Kathy, I’m lost,” I said, thought I knew she was sleeping.
“I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why”
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They’ve all come to look for America from “America” by Paul Simon
With a full two years of teenage existence already in my back pocket, Christmas of 1968 would mark some degree of recognition on my parents part as to the direction my restless awakenings were taking me. On that particular December 25th, while they weren’t quite ready to give into my sense of fashion, they would at least accede to my musical tastes. Bob Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited and the Bookends album from Simon and Garfunkel would provide the early high-fidelity soundtrack of my adolescence. And in the summer of 1972, with only a few dollars in my wallet, some Paul Simon inspired optimism in my heart, and a touch of Bob Dylan’s cynicism in my head–I would take to the road in search of my own version of the “American Dream.”
The lessons of those wanderings would not be fully understood until much later in life. But after a few years, it did become clear that I would need much more than acquired wisdom, the generosity of strangers, the benevolence of friends, and part-time employment in order to achieve my share of our national ethos. So I decided to further my education at a New Jersey state college. And it was there as part of an assignment for a film class that I, like those adept marketeers at the Bernie Sander’s campaign, decided to use the song “America” as the basis for a visual statement about the country.
Armed with only an 8mm Bell and Howell movie camera, I would head onto those mean streets of Newark, New Jersey. Well actually, where I was the streets weren’t all that mean. My goal was to try and capture the faces of American diversity in the Portuguese section of the city. Here there was a thriving scene of ethnic restaurants that were reviving and bringing economic stability to a neighborhood that formally was suffering the ravages of crime and poverty. And luckily for me, there were a couple of decent bars in that part of town that would provide a break from the early March chill in between takes. One of those urban watering holes was the legendary McGovern’s, andthe other was a comfortable corner tavern whose name escapes me after these many years. But it was that place that had the greater impact on me during my brief stint as an extremely amateur film maker.
During the two days of shooting, I made friends with an older woman (whose name I also cannot recall) that tended bar on most afternoons. In between eight-ounce Schaefers, shots of Rye whiskey, and decorating the place for St. Patrick’s Day we spoke about those things that were at the forefront of each of our lives. My challenges and issues were by no means as pressing as this human being who was then struggling to survive cancer. In the matter of a few short hours we had become very close. And I remember saving her the inconvenience of waiting for a bus by giving her a ride to a bowling alley where she would join her mom for league night. I was invited in for a quick beer, and to meet her mother and the other gals that comprised their team. And like a politician in a New Hampshire diner, I would shake a few hands, share a couple of fond embraces, and then part their company forever.
Looking back at those times, I remember the challenges and fears that tested our national fortitude: runaway inflation, recession, an ongoing energy crisis, Three Mile Island, the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the rise of Islamic fundamentalism in Iran, and of course the individual sufferings and misfortunes that are visited upon all of us. But the courage and compassion of those that I met along life’s earlier journeys have hopefully served to bring about a greater kindness and empathy toward all as I negotiate, with now shorter strides, the paths that lie before me.
For the record, my pairing of Paul Simon’s genius to Super 8 imagery was judged to be worthy of nothing more than a B-. Whereas, Mr. Sander’s short musical take on the matter has been heralded by some as being one of the best political ads in history.
Hopefully, whichever candidate completes that journey to Pennsylvania Avenue they will bring to that coveted address those heroic and exceptional qualities characteristic of those better Americans that they have met along the way!
With only a few more hours remaining before the raising up of that first pint in celebration of another St. Patrick’s Day, I find myself soothing my own melancholic disposition with the usual measure of Irish music. And even though it’s been some forty plus years since I first heard Tommy Makem put his voice to “Four Green Fields,” I’m still in awe of a people that can extract mirth from misery, and create sweet song from the suffering and sorrow that has all too often been the consequence of Irish history. So in keeping with the spirit of the day and Erin’s fine musical tradition, we present a couple of our favorites from the archives of Parting Glass Media.
(a reprise of Rebels at the Rock) – Why this particular video hasn’t gone viral is beyond my grasp of what the viewing public finds entertaining. But here in its entirety is a well-lubricated group of lads attempting to pay homage to that hero of Irish independence, James Connolly.
For a brief time be not of this place, but let your spirit take flight across the gray sea and verdant ground. To the land of Carolan and Joyce. A domain where words, voice and song become one in celebration of God’s grand design!
Saint Patrick’s Day is certainly a fun day for me, but is also a very busy one. I make my living as a musician, and I have been known to sing more than a few Irish folk tunes in my day. So St. Patty’s Day, while certainly a fun celebration, is a big business day for me as well. This year, like the last few years, I spent it playing at an exemplary Irish pub in Cranford, NJ called the Kilkenny House.
St. Pattys Day crowd at the Kilkenny House spills out into the streets
First, let me just say I simply love this place. It is a true Irish pub, run by great people and frequented by regulars who love Irish music, good drink, and a great pub. On Saint Patrick’s Day it seems all the regulars come to celebrate at their favorite place and they each bring a dozen of their best friends with them! Needless to say the place was predictably packed, so much so that the crowd spilled out onto the the streets, soaking in the wonderful weather and the perfect pints.
Kilkenny Irish Cream Ale
Speaking of perfect pints, the Kilkenny House had a pleasantly welcome surprise for me on this most joyous of holidays. It seems the week before they received a few barrels of my favorite Irish beer, Kilkenny Irish Cream Ale. Like I said a couple of weeks ago on this blog, if you were able to find this brew at your Irish Pub of choice on Saint Patrick’s Day you should consider yourself luck. Well, thankfully that luck found me!
The day has arrived. It’s time to sing Irish songs, lift a good pint and wear the green. The pages of the American Public House Review are filled with great places to enjoy the holiday, and for that I suggest you check out the “Celtic Pubs” section of the Backbar. But to celebrate the season, this week we bring you new articles from two top Irish pubs.
McGovern's in Newark, NJ
The first is the story of Newark’s legendary Irish institution, McGovern’s. The second comes from the Finger Lakes and Maloney’s pub in Hammondsport, NY.
from inside Maloney's in Hammondsport, NY
So from all of us here at Pub Talk and the American Public House Review, we wish you safe and fun Saint Patrick’s Day. Slainte!
In today’s installment of Pub Talk’s Countdown to St. Patty’s Day, we take you to County Kerry on the west coast of Ireland to show you some of the Emerald Isle’s more tropical scenery.
palm trees in Ireland
I loved this photograph from the moment I took it. Believe it or not, I was trying just to photograph the Guinness Bar sign. It wasn’t until after looking at the photo on the screen did I realize there were palm trees! I had to look up and ask the folks around me if they really were palm trees. After looking at me a bit strange they said yes, and these are not the only palm trees I would find in Ireland.
Kilorglin, County Kerry
The photo was taken outside the Red Fox Inn, which is part of the Kerry Bog Village. Located just outside the town of Kilorglin along the Ring of Kerry, a breathtaking road winding along the southwest coast, the Village is a historical site which recreates rural Ireland of the 18th century. But like any good tourist destination in Ireland, and any worthy stop along a well travelled thoroughfare, it also has watering hole. (And palm trees!)
1/2 cup butter at room temperature
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