The succulent aroma of fresh corned beef and cabbage sweetly greeted my senses as I walked into my grandmother’s house on that lovely St. Patrick’s Day morning during the spring of 1998. My family had just come from attending a special early-morning Catholic mass service wherein the younger seven year old me was impatiently itching for the moment to arrive when mass would let out. During that seemingly long service, the appetizing picture of grandma’s holiday feast flashed through my mind countless times as the clock sluggishly ticked by and the preacher rambled on and on. I eventually found myself immersed in a mouthwatering daydream, exploring the pleasantries and possibilities of what the highly anticipated holiday feast might taste like seeing as the skilled hands of my full-blooded Irish grandmother were busy preparing it. Today, roughly twelve years later, I can easily say that wonderful St. Patrick’s Day holiday has remained part of my memory and will always be a cherished food experience that helped fuel the discovery of my family’s Irish heritage and cultural identity.
After a good hour daydreaming in church, I was frantically brought back to reality by my mother, who pointed out in a very disgusted tone that I had fallen asleep for 90% of the mass. With the Irish service ending and my parents eager to leave, she decided not to scold me and we quickly bee lined our way to the parking lot avoiding any long-winded churchgoers that would potentially get in our way. We eventually reached our jeep and within a few minutes were zooming down the highway to our destination. I wanted to be as early as possible to grandma Rita’s place, seeing as this was the first St. Patrick’s Day meal she had prepared since my birth and also because the Golden based restaurant formerly known as Kenrows, (a local western eatery where we had enjoyed St. Patrick’s Day meals for as long as I can remember and also a premiere family gathering place) had burned down in a tragic insurance fire a few months earlier and was no longer in operation.
It took only a few minutes to arrive at grandma’s place after leaving the church, but once in her driveway we knew we were safe at last. I billowed out of the Cherokee and a succulent aroma of fresh corned beef and cabbage captured my attention. I was not even inside the house yet, but I could certainly smell the treasure trove of food that waited for me on the other side of her brown colored front door. I couldn’t take the suspense any longer and jolted inside as fast as I could.
Grandmas house was different than any I had seen before. It was furnished with two chartreuse colored couches and many dark green holiday doilies scattered all over the place, not to mention a plethora of small Irish themed trinkets that lined the shelves. I distinctly remember that every time I would visit, grandma would instantly serve me a cup of bland tasting Irish tea as well as present me with the latest piece of memorabilia added to her trinket collection. I would always congratulate her on new finds and then take a moment to sit back, relax and bask in the green colors that surrounded the room while sipping on my tea. On another note, besides the lumpy couches that looked like they were out of the seventies, grandma had two bulky picture-tube TV’s that were covered with various birthday cards she had received throughout the years. The cards always had funny sayings on them like, “We just love your buns grandma!” or “Don’t be talking about yourself here, we’ll surely be doing that after you leave”, which upon reading would make me bust out into laughter. This occasion however, I was not interested in the funny cards and more importantly had my attention fixed on entering the kitchen, the nervous center of the entire house and also the location where my dinner awaited.
It took a few steps from the front door to get to the kitchen w
here a mountain of food resided. As soon as I turned the corner I couldn’t believe my eyes! There the table was, standing on all four legs looking gloriously dressed with a green tablecloth and all sorts of goodies that could easily make your mouth water. Scattered all over the table was mounds of fresh soda bread, buns, diced carrots, celery, butter, cranberries, baked and boiled potatoes, pot pie, toast, sausage’s, assorted beers and many other appealing dishes that you could just die for. Grandma had made an extra special effort to make the table seem as Irish as possible without going too overboard. For some strange reason when I think back upon the memory of that table, the warm feeling of Clancy’s Irish Pub also comes to mind. It was probably because the house’s white walls and the festive green reminded me of the homely atmosphere that Clancy’s presented.
Looking around the room and seeing that grandma was nowhere in sight, I slyly reached across the table to eat a slice of soda bread. Without knowing, grandma was walking up the stairs next to the kitchen entrance and spotted me just as I was about to put the delicious morsel into my mouth. She opened the stairway door and called my name, which frightened the wits out of me as I thought she was outside the kitchen vicinity. She slowly walked past carrying a large spoon and stated that I couldn’t touch anything until the Corn Beef stew was fully cooked and everyone was ready to eat. Her words were very disappointing to me as I was extremely hungry, but knowing I was in the wrong I decided to head back to the front room to meet my slow parents.
My mom and dad entered the front door and kindly said hello to grandma by kissing her on the cheek as she placed even more food items on the table. My dad then turned on one of the living room TV’s and told me to go get a movie to watch. I knew that the food would take more then an hour to fully cook and so I went on a video search. Thankfully I was prepared for this the TV situation as my family had a tradition of watching Darby O'Gill and the Little People and I knew exactly where to find grandma’s copy. I always liked Darby O'Gill and the Little People as it was about Irish leprechauns and their livelihoods. I still recommend that movie as an oldie but goodie Irish flick for anyone who is interested as it includes one of my favorite actors, Sean Connery.
After the movie was halfway through, grandma called for us to come into the kitchen to grab our dinner plates and begin dishing up our food. I jumped up from my seat on the couch and bolted into the kitchen trying to beat my mom and dad to the yummy spoils. I grabbed an empty plate and headed over to the kitchen stove where a huge tub of corn beef and cabbage was located. Grandma helped me dish up a good-sized chunk of beef, a few red potatoes, as well as lots of carrots, which at the time where to help my eyesight (as I was then, and currently am blind in my right eye). Because it was St. Patrick’s Day, which is one of my family’s lax holidays, we decided not to sit at the table and eat like normal. I thought that was a good idea as the movie was still in progress and I really wanted to eat my supper.
There is nothing like eating luscious corned beef and cabbage while watching an Irish movie as well as being surrounded by the beloved company of family members. As time went by, more relatives started to arrive and every time I would go back to the kitchen table to get more food the stock pile seemed to get smaller and smaller. When the movie was done and the food was almost gone grandma told everyone to gather in the living room. When everyone was together she brought out a tattered covered shoe box overflowing with old pictures. I sat back in my chair trying to lick the juices that still remained on my plate as grandma took a seat in her favorite chair and began talking about our relatives of old. Grandma talked about how my family had emigrated from 
Ireland more than 100 years ago and about how we helped make America what it is today. I have to admit that I was not paying attention in the beginning of her speech, but by the time that she reached a talk regarding how we were related to the movie star Ann Sheridan, my eyes became large and ears were dead set on listening to anything else she had to say. By the time grandma was done talking, I had learned that I was related many important people including a German king and one of the key builders that worked on Mt. Rushmore.
By the time our family history session was over, I had become very sleepy and my family was eager to leave. I kissed grandma goodnight who in turn returned the kiss and also snuck me a doggy bag filled with the remainder of the evenings holiday feast. I hugged grandma one final time and headed out to the jeep where I fell to sleep. On the ride back to my home I could hear my parents in the background talking about how that St. Patrick’s day was one of the best that they have ever had, and I also agreed.
Looking back, if it wasn’t for the great tasting corn beef and cabbage that my grandma prepared on that St. Patrick’s Day holiday, and even more importantly the family history lesson that randomly occurred, the knowledge of my family’s heritage may have been lost forever. That St. Patties Day really helped to bring out the true Irish in me and even helped to develop my cultural character. And for all who are wondering, I still jump at the chance to eat a good plate of Irish food and I am always willing to share a good tale or two about my family’s roots if an occasion calls for it.
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