An Irish Country Wedding

by Patrick Taylor

  “Doctor O’Reilly named him after this stuff.” He held up the half-finished pint he’d been given by Gerry Shanks.

  Colin looked thoughtful. “My daddy says thon Guinness isn’t a patch on Murphy’s stout, and I’ve seen my daddy drink it. It’s the same colour as my pup’s black patches.” He clipped the lead to the pup’s collar, set him on the ground, and said proudly, “Come on, Murphy, come on and meet my mammy and daddy.”

  There was a ripple of applause from the head table and the immediately adjacent ones, and Barry heard Kinky say, “I’m surprised young Colin would know about Murphy’s. It does be brewed in County Cork, so—”

  “And it’s not the only good thing to come out of County Cork,” Archie said. His speech was ever so slightly slurred and he planted a kiss on Kinky’s cheek.

  She giggled and said, “Behave yourself, Archibald Auchinleck,” but Barry saw she was holding Archie’s hand. She said to Barry, “Have you everything packed up for tomorrow, sir?”

  “I have.”

  “A bit later I’ll have Archie bring the boxes down to the hall,” she said, pushing back her chair and standing. “Doctor Laverty, it has been a pleasure to know you, so—”

  “And you, Kinky.” That lump in Barry’s throat was threatening to choke him and nearly did when she enfolded him in her arms. He felt her shaking and knew she was crying.

  She let him go, dashed the backs of her hands over her eyes, and said, “And don’t worry about lunch tomorrow for your drive.” She waved a hand in the direction of the marquee. “I’ll make sure you have a lunch fit for royalty with all the leavings from this afternoon, and put them in the fridge, so.”

  “Thank you, Kinky,” he said. “Thank you so very much … for everything.” Barry Laverty could manage no more. Tomorrow would be here soon enough.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Donal Donnelly. The man’s carrotty thatch stuck out in bright contrast to the bottle green of his Highlander’s caubeen. “Could youse come over til the side of the garden where it’s a wee bit more private like? Julie and me’d like to have a wee word.”

  “Of course.” He frowned. What on earth was this all about? He couldn’t stop himself from worrying that something had gone wrong at the last minute with the Donnellys’ house purchase. “If you’ll just give me a minute.”

  “You take your time, sir.”

  Barry moved to the head table. He said, “I’m sorry, Sue. I thought I’d finished, but Donal wants me for something.”

  “Go on,” she said, and smiled. “I can wait.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Barry,” Fingal called, “don’t be too long. I’m taking Kitty for a dance and you don’t want to leave a good-looking lass like Sue alone with no one to talk to.”

  “I wonder,” said the marquis, “if you’d care to be my partner in the next set, Sue?”

  “It would be lovely,” she said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Barry said, then turned. “Come on, Donal.”

  Together they set off toward one of the big elms.

  “Do you mind the day we met, sir?” Donal asked.

  “I do,” Barry said. “A year ago this month. I was lost, trying to find Doctor O’Reilly for an interview for this job. You were on your bike and you gave me directions.” Barry would never forget that encounter: yellow gorse, drooping fuschia, a blackbird singing, Donal’s directions about not to turn at a black and white cow, and the man’s flight at the mere mention of the name of Doctor O’Reilly. The ogre, Fingal O’Reilly, had mellowed over the past year. Barry knew Kitty had had a lot to do with that, but perhaps, in his own way, Barry had helped too. “It’s been quite the year.”

  They reached a spot where Julie was waiting in the shade of one of the elms, away from the crowd. With only a few days of her pregnancy to go, she looked thoroughly uncomfortable in the heat and, as Donal had been heard affectionately to describe her, “as big as the side wall of a house.”

  “Julie,” Barry said, “can we not find you a chair?” He glanced back. O’Reilly had been true to his word. He and Kitty, Kinky and Archie, the marquis and Sue, Jane Hoey and her surgical boss Charlie Greer were dancing to a tune played by Dapper Frew. They weren’t the only set. Barry scanned the crowd and realised that with the exception of the O’Hallorhan party from Dublin he knew just about everybody at this hooley.

  “Don’t you worry your head, Doctor. I’m so big I can’t seem to get comfortable in any position I’m in,” she said, put her hand in the small of her back, grimaced, then laughed. “Anyroad, what we’ve to say’ll only take a wee minute.”

  So it wasn’t the house. That was a relief.

  Donal said, “Me and Julie know it’s himself and Mrs. O’Reilly’s big day, so we don’t want to extract from that—”

  “Detract,” Julie said, and had to stop chuckling before she managed to say, “Honestly, Donal Donnelly, you’re hopeless, so you are.”

  “Right enough, detract, anyroad, Julie and me didn’t want youse til go away without something to remember us and Ballybucklebo by. I mind very well what youse said a year ago, in this here garden at Seamus and Mary Galvin’s going-away party. We were queueing up for to buy jars and I asked youse, how do you like Ballybucklebo … and working for himself?”

  “I remember,” Barry said, “and I told you I didn’t think ‘like’ was the right word. I said I loved it here.”

  “And,” Julie said, “since youse come, youse and Doctor O’Reilly have been quare nor good to me and Donal.”

  Barry held up a hand as if to stop them, but Donal shook his head and continued on. “Youse know me and Julie’s going to get the wee house after all, and for even less than we thought?”

  “I’d heard a rumour.”

  “And I suppose it’s all because your man Mister Houston found an old Stone Age thing, mebbe under that mound.”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  “It’s dead on, so it is.” He frowned. Barry recognised the look of Donal Donnelly wrestling with a grave intellectual conundrum. “And I don’t suppose himself and you had anything til do with it, sir?”

  Barry laughed. “We certainly didn’t bury that Stone Age fort under what’s going to be your back garden, Donal. If that’s what you mean?”

  When she’d finished laughing, Julie said, “Right enough, but we do know what we know, so we do. That there Doctor O’Reilly does all kinds of things behind the scenes and never lets on, and we’re guessing he’s got you into the same way of going too, Doctor Laverty.”

  Barry shrugged. He was not a bit ashamed of emulating the older man.

  “Well may you shrug, Doctor,” said Julie, “but all youse and himself have done for us can’t ever be paid back—”

  Barry held up a hand. “Thank you, Julie, but honestly, it’s part of our job. And it’s been my pleasure. I am going away for a while, but I promise I’ll come back to see my friends. I’m going to miss you all, and I’ll never forget you.” He half-turned. “And I’m sorry, Julie, that I’ll not be here for your big day, but I’m sure it’ll go very well.”

  “We’ll send you a wee birth notice and all, so we will.”

  “Kinky’ll have my address,” he said.

  Donal had gone behind the tree. He returned with a narrow, brown-paper-wrapped parcel. He said, “Me and Julie would like for youse to have this, sir. Just from us.”

  Barry accepted the gift. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much.”

  “Will youse open it, sir?” Julie said.

  The pipe music stopped as if to mark the occasion.

  Barry tore off the wrapping and gasped. “Mother of God.” He realised that under the circumstances that was exactly what Fingal would have said. “It’s a Hardy Koh-I-Noor, a number seven—” Barry blew out his breath through pursed lips. “I don’t know what to say.” He shuddered to think what this, the Rolls-Royce of fly rods, must have cost and realised he was trembling. “Thank you, but it’s far too much.”


  “Och,” said Donal, “it was my da’s and sure I never fish. We think it’s going to a good home that’s all, like, but we hope every time youse put a fly on the water you’ll mind us and Ballybucklebo.”

  It was all Barry could do to keep his voice from breaking. His eyes prickled. “Donal. Julie,” he said, “I’ll treasure this. I’ll take good care of it … and it won’t only be every time that I go fishing—”

  He heard O’Reilly’s voice booming over the noises of the crowd. “Come on, Dapper. Give us another bloody reel, you great bollix.” The remark was greeted by cheers, whistles, applause. The uncrowned king of Ballybucklebo was holding court, his queen by his side, and as he himself would say, “God was in His Heaven and all was right with the world.” Fair play to you both, Doctor and Mrs. Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly, M.B., B.Ch., B.A.O., D.S.C.

  Barry shook his head in wonder at the scene before him, smiled, and said, “I meant what I said to you, Donal, a year ago. I love it here … and if I live to be a hundred I’ll never, ever forget Ballybucklebo.”

  AFTERWORD

  by

  Mrs. Kincaid

  Dia duit, tar isteach. Hello, and come in. I’m just back from church meself. Mister Robinson was in grand form today, his sermon was all hellfire and brimstone, but even so it was a bit of a comedown after the wedding yesterday. That was a hooley and a half, but there it is now, all done. Another chapter in the Ballybucklebo chronicles. Sometimes I wonder if that Patrick Taylor fellah is ever going to run out of steam. Rather him than me, for I know the telling of these tales runs to hundreds of pages, so. I’m lucky I only have to pen a few recipes and then get on with a bit of tidying up because Archie Auchinleck, bless him, is popping in for tea in my kitchen at six o’clock.

  It does be very quiet here at Number One today. That nice Doctor Bradley has gone to see a farmer up in the Ballybucklebo Hills. On the phone it sounded like he’d ruptured himself, but then I’m no doctor. She’s taken Arthur so he can have a run after, so. Himself and Miss Kitty … although I’d better get used to calling her Mrs. O’Reilly for a while before I get round to plain Kitty, the pair of them left for Rhodes this morning and young Doctor Laverty loaded up his funny shmall-little German motorcar and headed off for Ballymena. I wonder if he’ll come back? I know himself would like that and so would I, and this is one question my gift can’t or won’t answer. I’ll tell you one thing, bye. If I’d ever had a son he couldn’t have turned out any better than Doctor Barry Laverty. I hope he finds what he’s looking for. Time will tell, but I did be pleased to see how well him and that Sue Nolan seemed to be getting on yesterday. They were telling me about their plans to visit the Glens of Antrim soon. More power to their wheels.

  And more power to my pen if I’m going to get this job finished.

  I’ve five for you today, lentil soup, Irish stew, cottage pie with champ topping, fish pie, and orange and chocolate soufflé. I’m making one of those for Archie later today. He’s like Doctor O’Reilly and has a powerfully sweet tooth.

  So, if you’d get out of my chair, Lady Macbeth—thank you—I’ll bid you all slán leat, hope you enjoy these dishes when you try them, and hope to see you back here soon.

  MRS. MAUREEN “KINKY” KINCAID

  Housekeeper to

  Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly

  M B., BCh., B.A.O.

  1 Main Street,

  Ballybucklebo,

  County Down,

  Northern Ireland

  LENTIL SOUP

  1 large potato, peeled and chopped

  1 stick of celery, chopped

  2 medium onions, peeled and chopped

  3 carrots, peeled and chopped

  2 cloves garlic, crushed

  1 tablespoon cooking oil

  1 small can tomato puree

  330 g / 12 oz. red lentils, washed

  1200 mL / 2 pints / about 6 cups vegetable stock

  600 mL / 1 pint / about 3 cups water

  Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

  A little chopped parsley and a swirl of cream to finish

  Heat the oil in a large saucepan and sweat the potato, onion, celery, and carrots over a very gentle heat for a few minutes until the onions are soft but not brown. I like to cover this with a sheet of greaseproof paper, which helps to trap the moisture.

  Now, add the remaining ingredients, bring to the boil, reduce heat to a slow simmer, and cook for about an hour, stirring occasionally.

  Liquidise and season to taste and serve with the chopped parsley and cream to garnish.

  This is a substantial lunch soup and goes very well with my Guinness bread recipe, which I’m sure you all enjoy as much as himself does. You’ll find that one in A Dublin Student Doctor, so.

  IRISH STEW

  1 kg / 2 ¼ lbs. scrag or neck of lamb on the bone

  2 onions, chopped small

  3 carrots, chopped small

  6 medium potatoes, chopped into quarters

  1 bay leaf

  1 tablespoon cooking oil

  A little parsley, chopped

  Salt and freshly ground black pepper

  Worcestershire sauce

  First, you scrape as much meat off the bones as possible and put this to one side. Heat the oil in a large pot and brown the bones for a few minutes. Cover with about 7 pints/4 litres of cold water. Season, add the bay leaf, and bring to the boil. Simmer it gently for about 2 hours. By this time the liquid should have reduced down to about 2 pints. Now you leave it to get cold so that you can remove the fat from the surface. Putting it in the fridge really helps to solidify the fat. Scrape the meat from the bones again and discard them. Now add the rest of the meat to the liquid and cook for about 30 minutes. Then you add the potatoes, carrots, and onions and cook for another 20 or 30 minutes or so when they should be soft and the potatoes start to break up and thicken the cooking liquid. Season to taste and add a few drops of Worcestershire (or other brown sauce).

  To serve, sprinkle with chopped parsley.

  COTTAGE PIE WITH CHAMP TOPPING

  450 g / 1 lb. / 2 cups lean mince beef

  2 onions, chopped

  1 large or 2 small carrots, grated

  15 mL / 1 tablespoon cooking oil

  1 teaspoon herbs—fresh or dried—thyme, basil, oregano (all of these or just one will do)

  15 mL / 1 tablespoon chopped parsley

  15 mL / 1 tablespoon tomato purée or ketchup

  15 mL / 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

  15 mL / 1 tablespoon flour

  285 mL / ½ pint / 1 cup beef stock

  Champ Topping

  900 g / 2 lbs. / 4 cups potatoes

  1 bunch scallions (green onions) chopped

  1 cup milk

  Salt and black pepper

  50 g / 2 oz. / 1 stick butter

  First you fry the onions and carrot in the oil for a few minutes, add the minced beef, and cook for a further 20 to 30 minutes. The beef will be nice and brown now and will have released its fat. To make this pie less fattening for himself, and Alice not having to let his waistband out more, I like to press the beef mixture into a sieve and get rid of most of the fat. Then I return the beef to the pan and add the herbs, parsley, salt and pepper, flour, tomato puree, Worcestershire sauce, and finally the beef stock. Now simmer it all for a few minutes and adjust seasoning if necessary.

  Set aside into a well-greased baking dish and prepare the topping.

  Boil the potatoes until soft and mash well. In a separate pan, cook the scallions with the milk and seasoning at a slow simmer until soft. This only takes a few minutes but keep watching it to make sure that it does not boil over. Now add this together with the butter to the mashed potatoes and mix well.

  What you have now is called champ and is very popular in Ireland as an accompaniment for other dishes too. But I am digressing, so to get back to what we were doing:

  Spread the champ over the top of the cooked beef mixture, dot the top with butter, and put into a preh
eated oven at 400°F / 200°C / gas mark 6 for about 25 minutes. The topping will have browned nicely. This should feed four very hungry people or six not so.

  I am forever being asked what the difference is between cottage pie and shepherd’s pie, and the answer is that you use lamb instead of beef to make a shepherd’s. This is very good too and reminds me so much of my childhood and a man called Connor MacTaggart, but you’ll have to read An Irish Country Girl to find out why.

  FISH PIE

  450 g / 1 lb. mixed fish such as salmon, cod, snapper, or haddock

  110 g / 4 oz. shrimp or prawns

  110 g / 4 oz. scallops

  600 mL / 1 pint / about 3 cups milk

  1 or 2 bay leaves

  Salt and black pepper

  15 g / 2 tablespoons fresh chopped parsley

  50 g / 2 oz. / 1 stick butter

  15 g / 2 tablespoons flour

  Bring the milk, seasonings, and bay leaves to the boil in a pan and add the uncooked fish and shellfish, omitting the shrimp if it has been precooked. Simmer very gently for about 3 minutes. Cover with a lid and leave until you have prepared the topping.

  Topping

  You can either use the champ topping on page 411 or make this very simple one.

  900 g / 2 lbs. potatoes

  150 mL / ¼ pint light cream

  25 g / 1 oz. butter

  Salt and pepper to taste

  Mash the boiled potatoes with cream and butter and season to taste.

  Sauce

  Drain the milk from the fish and discard the bay leaves. Remove any skin or bones from the fish, break into bite-size pieces, and spread over a greased pie dish with the shrimp. Melt the butter in a saucepan and carefully stir in the flour. Cook gently for a couple of minutes without letting the roux (a fancy French word for the flour and butter mixture) brown. Now add the milk to the roux very gradually with the seasoning and parsley. Bring to the boil and simmer gently for 3 or 4 minutes, stirring all the time. Then pour the sauce over the fish.

  It’s time now to cover the fish and the sauce with the potato topping, and dot it all over with butter or a little grated cheddar or Parmesan cheese. Bake in a preheated oven at 200°C / 400°F for about 30 minutes or until nicely browned.