Wild Garlic/ Ramsons
Had to go to Corofin this morning, up by Lough Bunny and beautiful Mullaghmore, in the sacred Burren, of Co.Clare. I was collecting my son, from a party, in the middle of a beautiful mixed landscape of wooded hazel, leafy glens, and stark limestone pavement. It is Mothers Day, and I recalled memories of minding Caolann my son whose name means (slender fair one) when he was a little boy. Always up to some-thing and always with a cut or bruise some-where from his ramblings. We had a great time together, just him and I, free as birds. Now here I am rescuing him from having to walk for miles, after a mad party, all grown up 17 years of him. Still slender and fair. Love you Caly.
Oh yeah and the place was covered in wild garlic or Ramsons, or wood garlic as it’s called. It’s out earlier than usual and I feasted in the waft of it, and plucked a great hand full for turning into some-thing wonderful later. On our return home, hot tea and sympathy was the order of the day, and while Caolann once again looked after his bruises, and got some badly needed sleep, I made a wild garlic and rosemary paste, to baste the lamb with, that is now filling the kitchen with the most divine smell. Time to say again,
Hunger is sweet kitchen.
Happy Mothers Day.
