Tomorrow evening we take the stage at Angela's CFP in Tyngsboro for our St.Patrick's Night Party. Our 1st set starts at 6:00 and we will be playing until they throw us out, so come on down to Angela's for a pint and a few slices. We will be featuring about a baker's dozen or so Irish tunes in addition to our ever growing set list of your favorite classics. It promises to be a great evening and we are really looking forward to seeing you all there.
And now todays' ramble ;
Some of you may be curious as to what an "Irishman" (Actually Scottish/Irish, which I consider all Celtic), is doing spending St.Patrick's Day playing in an Italian Pizza Joint. Much of it has to do with growing up as one of the only Irish/Scottish families in a mostly Italian neighborhood, which in turn led to what I refer to as "Pizza Envy".
For the record, let me first state that my Mother, God rest her soul, was a great woman.She was a salt of the earth, Irish Girl. She was loyal, humble, hard working, brutally honest, and, as they say, she had a heart of gold. She was also capable of being stubborn, opinionated, somewhat bigoted , and she possessed the ability to hold a grudge like no other( see Irish Alzheimers). She believed the old adage of spare the rod and spoil the child, only in her case it was usually this really hard plastic, long handled thing she referred to as her "rattail comb". Yes, she was a good mother, a protector of her young, a defender of her faith,(Irish Catholic as they come), but the one thing she was not was a great cook.
Don't get me wrong, I genuinely appreciated the food that was put on the table, but I have to be honest. Ma overcooked everything. Meat, always well done, veggies boiled to death, and you could tell the day of the week by what was on the table for dinner. The schedule rarely ever changed. Monday was always Meatloaf, Tuesday thin cut pork chops, Wednesday was always "Prince Spaghetti" with sauce from a jar, Friday was fish and Saturday was always Essem #8 Skinless Hot Dogs with Friends Baked Beans and that brown bread from a can. When I went away to college I swear I did not eat another baked bean or even look at a hot dog for maybe ten years.
Meanwhile at my next door neighbors, dinner was on the stove all day. And the aroma was intoxicating. The huge pot of "gravy" was homemade, never from a jar. When my friend's mother was cooking she used these things called spices and seasonings. They cooked with garlic, and all of the food was not boiled, except maybe the pasta, and that was el dente'. For lunch my friends always had these exotic meats like Salami, Prosciutto,Pepperoni,Soppresata, with pungent Provolone cheese with fresh cut Roma tomatoes on a crusty chewy hunk of fresh Italian Bread drizzled with some extra virgin olive oil. I had Boiled Ham on Wonder Bread.
So I had "Pizza envy", which is why when I was out on my own I learned how to cook, and to this day, for a old Mick, I make a pretty mean Chicken and Veal Parm. Anyway, my genuine love of Italian food spilled over into a genuine love of great pizza which is one of the reasons I am spending our St.Patrick's Day at Angela's. Besides, St.Patrick was actually from Wales, which back in 360 AD was still part of the Roman Empire, so wouldn't that make St.Patrick technically an Italian?