The trip back from Germany was just a nightmare. Albeit not that terrible of one. Sure I had to stay in Ireland for a night but as travel inconveniences go it wasn’t all that hideous, I mean, this was not an oxcart with 7 children across Canada. And if I’d known what I was in for to begin with it would have not been a problem at all. It was a comfortable room and there was a restaurant.
I hadn’t eaten all day and was starving when the restaurant opened at 5pm. And I’d been hoping to have the opportunity to have a Guinness in Ireland. Guinness in Ireland lives in my memory as a golden brown and glowing high point in my life. Guinness in Ireland is like no other Guinness.
I ordered a hamburger, skipping the fish pie which later on I caught a whiff of and nearly passed out, in favor of a burger, fries and a Guinness. But when the hamburger arrived it was a whopper. Unfortunately not a Burger King Whopper. It was way too big to get into my mouth. It was a double burger (something I had not noticed on the menu) with bacon, tomato, a bunch of cheese and lettuce. I cut it in half so that I could eat it with a fork. Still more unfortunately, I just could not eat it. I dissembled it and ate some of the meat, taking care to mess my plate up so it would look like I did some damage. But I just could not eat it.
When we were young Kathy Grady taught us how to “hide” vegetables that we didn’t like on our plates by putting them under things your parents didn’t care if we ate, like putting peas under mashed potatoes. At the time it was funny except that there was pretty much nothing I didn’t eat (we did not have anchovies—though canned mackerel was pretty much in that same category) and I would not have wanted to waste mashed potatoes just to hide some peas under it. I would have happily eaten the peas anyway. She also suggested spreading things around on your plate so it didn’t look like you had a big pile of things, just, say, random peas. I don’t know if this tip works. I never had food left on my plate.
I put part of a burger under the tomato but the waitress was obviously dismayed when I told her I was done. I didn’t even drink my Guinness. So much for Guinness in Ireland.
Oh the horrors of travel.