(from Irish Cooking by Publications International Ltd.)
This recipe is great with whatever berries are in season near you. I like to use the honey instead of sugar to represent the fruits of our labor as well as the honey the bees make after pollinated the food. Its a very sun representative food to me as well.
4 cups plus 1 TBLS divided
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup steel-cut oats
½ tsp cinnamon
½ tsp ground nutmeg
1/3 cup half and half ( or cream or dairy substitute)
¼ cup of brown sugar or molasses
1 cup fresh strawberries hulled and quartered
6 oz fresh blueberries
6 oz fresh blackberries
3 tsp granulated sugar or honey
Boil the water with a pinch of salt, then sprinkle in the oats and cinnamon and nutmeg as its boiling. Stir until it begins to thicken, then reduce to simmer for 35-40 min. Add in the cream/non-dairy and molasses/brown sugar.
Combine berries and water in small sauce pan, add in sugar or molasses. Bring to a simmer on medium heat. Cook 8 - 9 min or until tender and the berries still hold their shape.
Decide porridge among 4 bowls and top with the berry compote.
Honey Scones -
Sounds delicious and from the same book as above. Great for Imbolc as well.
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 TBLS brown sugar (packed)
1 TBLS baking powder
6 TBLS butter, melted
½ cup old fashioned oats
1 TBLS granulated sugar
½ tsp salt
¼ cup whipping cream
¼ cup milk
1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. While heating line the baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. Combine flour, brown sugar, granulated sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the oats. Whisk the milk, cream, melted butter and egg in a separate bowl. Stir wet ingredients into dry until the dough just comes together.
Turn dough onto a floured surface and pat dough into a ¾ in thick circle. Cut the circle into eight triangles.
Arrange triangles onto the baking sheet and bake for 12 - 15 min or until golden brown. Let cool 15 and serve warm, with butter and honey.
Feast Dishes -
Here are some side dishes that I thought up or read for your feast. These will be in less recipe format then the ones above.
Savory Strawberry Salad -
½ purple onion
1 container strawberries, rinsed and sliced into ¼ inch slices
6 - 8 roma tomatoes sliced into ¼ inch slices
2 TBLS balsamic vinegar
salt to taste
Slice onions into ¼ inch quarter rings. Add to a non-reactive bowl. Add the strawberries and tomatoes.
Add balsamic vinegar and a pinch of salt.
Place into the fridge overnight, or the freezer for 1 hour.
Remove the bowl and let come to room temperature. Serve.
Spring Salad Mix -
Add a fresh made dressing to a bag of salad mix!
Try these -
honey, lime, oilive oil and dill
raspberries, balsamic vinegar, olive oil and salt and pepper
rice wine vinegar, cilantro, lime, and canola oil
lemon, dijon mustard, clove of garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper
Simple Sides -
Irish Cheddar and fresh fruit
Fire Roasted Corn on the cob
Fire Roasted Bell Peppers dipped into a creamy dressing (Ranch)
Carrots and Celery dipped into hummus
Local fresh produce, raw and ready to eat!
Red cabbage and sliced apple slaw
Main Course -
The main dish should be something that reflects the season, and your celebration. If you are having a bon fire, hot dogs, sausages and other food roasted over the fire are appropriate.
Or fire up the barbecue and grill up some some meat! Carne asada, which is a popular summer meat to grill in SoCal, it is marinated strip steak in lime and other seasonings, and great for this holiday. Also try lime and tequila marinated chicken, grilled salmon, or hamburgers.
Not going to be outside? Try roasting or broiling in the oven. A good beef roast is great, or maybe some broiled fish.
Vegatarian? try boca burgers, or other veggie burgers, grilled portabellos with cheese on top, or some seasonal veggies on the grill! I love roasted zucchini on the barbecue or in the broiler.
Do what is good to you and appropriate for your diet/nutritional needs and what is in season. Just because the ancient Irish folk ate something at this holiday, it doesn’t mean we can’t eat what we have available or even the modern equivalent of it!
Gewurztraminer with Elderberry Syrup and fresh strawberries and blackberries
May Wine - ½ cup of dried sweet woodruff leaves, 1 bottle of Riesling wine, 1 bottle of Sekt (German sparkling wine) or champagne, ¾ cups organic strawberries, chopped. And a pinch of fresh sweet woodruff flowers for garnish
Meyer Lemonade infused with lavender and mint
Fresh brewed floral tea, such as chamomile, with honey or infused 3 flower sugar, from my other post.
Desserts - I am going to make a whole separate post for Bealtaine desserts!
I hope you enjoyed my post on the foods and recipes I put together for this year’s Beltane!
(So I had this idea a few days ago but gave up because I
thought people might think it’s stupid, but then I decided that I want to do it
anyway. So enjoy!)
Bim Trimmer is the flash of cameras and the sound of a brass
band striking the first note. He’s that feeling you get when you step into cold
water and every nerve of your body lights up. He’s the sound of children
laughing as they run through a park on a warm spring day with the wind carrying
the scent of freshly blooming flowers. Bim is tip-toeing past closed doors at
night to slip out and see the stars as the fireflies are winking.
Dr. Iplier is clean, white sheets that still smell fresh as
morning light drifts through the window. He’s perfect lines and just the right
words. He’s the scent of coffee when you need it most and fresh bakes muffins
that melt in your mouth and leave you feeling all warm inside. He’s a cold
shower with mint scented shampoo. Doc is that feeling in your stomach when the
roller coaster suddenly drops down the steep decline, and he’s getting swept up
in another person’s eyes for the first time.
Google is light glinting off of water and the sound of rain
hitting a tin roof. He’s the kind of excitement that makes you bob your knee
under the table and drum your fingers across the surface. He’s staying up late
on Wikipedia, an insatiable curiosity for the unknown and the strange. He’s the
black space between stars and the moments when you grit your teeth. Google is
the scent of electricity when a thunderstorm is about to hit and everything
seems to go silent in anticipation.
Silver Shepherd is carnival rides and laughing until it
hurts. He’s late night talks with your friends that start to not make so much
sense after a while, but they’re still fun anyway. He’s that feeling in your
chest when you do the right thing and stand up for someone who can’t stand up
for themselves. He’s nervous giggles and sweaty palms. Silver is the sound of
music from far off and the sudden clash of a cymbal.
The Host is the scent of old books and dust, of pine and sap
and wood smoke. He’s the sound of wind chimes blown around by a summer storm
and the cracking of lightning. He’s the feeling of biting your lip until it
bleeds but also a nap at the perfect time of day. The Host is running barefoot
through leaves and cold dirt as the sun shines down through the gray clouds. He’s
an autumn blaze after the first cold snap and wearing an oversized sweater that
comes down over your hands.
Ed Edgar is singing along to a song even when your way off
key. He’s driving just for the sake of being somewhere different, somewhere
new. He’s camping out underneath the stars with nothing but a bonfire for light
and a truck bed to sleep in. Ed is the smell of gasoline and a freshly struck
match and just as dangerous. He’s the feeling of bloodied knuckles and a black
eye but still itching to fight just because you can.
Wilford Warfstache is cotton candy and bubble gum, too much
sugar but not enough all at once. He’s electric colors and the popping sound of
an amp being plugged in. He’s yelling at the top of your lungs just for the fun
of it. He’s shattered glass and crazy hair and wondering where you left your
other shoe. Wilford is bright lights and tough questions and the taste of blood
in your mouth. He’s the walking embodiment of vertigo but the thrill of
applause makes it worth it.
Darkiplier is sweet nothings whispered in your ear and
gentle hands that could turn cold at any moment. He’s an easy smile that covers
sharp teeth and the cut of a broken bottle. He’s the black and white of piano
keys and the red of a rose covered in thorns. He’s heart-stopping eyes that
make you forget to breathe like they’re holding you underwater by the throat.
Dark is the scent of cinnamon and the sound of a breaking bone. He’s all your
worst fears wrapped up into a neat little package that looks sweet but tastes
bitter. He won’t hesitate to break you, and part of you won’t even mind it when
He couldn’t get how Yuuri always looked so good, effortlessly handsome even within minutes of waking up. It wasn’t fair, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. Each morning he got to get up next to his fiancé was a blessing, and Victor doubted he’d ever get tired of gazing at him lovingly while Yuuri was still asleep.
And what was even more puzzling was that whenever Victor waxed poetic about Yuuri’s good-looks - well, to be fair, not only his good looks as much as his whole being, because Yuuri Katsuki was nothing but perfection to his eyes - his fiancé just seemed to… feel embarrassed?
“I’m not all that, Vitya, come on,” Yuuri would giggle, pushing him with a pillow while blushing so prettily.
He couldn’t get it. How did Yuuri not fall in love with himself every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror? How could he pout of all things when he got up to find out his hair was sticking up everywhere? He was gorgeous. Breathtaking. Victor didn’t know enough words in English, Russian or French to even get started on how handsome Yuuri was.
Even on magazines - damn, Victor knew those pictures received some photoshop treatment, but Yuuri was already perfect the way he was and if anything those corrections only served to highlight his best features. The crease of his abs, the muscles of his thighs, the vee of his pelvis. Fuck. Victor started sweating just from thinking about those.
Yuuri didn’t argue with him, and deep down Victor knew that even though he kept laughing and denying Victor’s unending praises he was deeply affected by them. Victor could see it whenever they got physical - Yuuri would ask him what he thought, would ask for his praise, it made him shiver and writhe and Victor could swear he’d live to compliment Yuuri if that meant making him feel good. It was heaven. Paradise in its finest form.
It was just puzzling when he read in one of the most recent interviews Yuuri had given he thought of himself as nothing except… Average?
“Yuuri, babe… Do you even know what ‘average’ means?” He couldn’t refrain from asking, dropping the magazine on his lap with a certain exasperation. It was a silly question, but sometimes Victor doubted Yuuri understood what the word actually meant because it simply didn’t apply for him.
Yuuri paused, pushing his glasses up his nose and wiping his hair out of his face before resuming his baking. “What do you mean?”
“Here… It says you think of yourself… Average,” Victor repeated, raising the magazine to point at Yuuri exactly where the word was.
He furrowed his brow, eyes jumping from Victor to the magazine as he tried to make sense of what on Earth his fiancé was going on about. Oh, the interview. He could barely remember what he’d said to the journalist - it was embarrassing enough to pose in leotards that left little to nothing to the imagination, let alone talk about what eros represented for him to a complete stranger.
“Oh… Yeah, I mean, my appearance is pretty average for a Japanese–”
He couldn’t even finish his sentence before Victor groaned a loud NO from the couch.
“Yuuuuuu~riiiiiii!” Victor whined, rolling off the couch dramatically and disturbing Makkachin’s sleep. “How many times?” He asked, beelining for the kitchen.
“How many times must I tell you how not average you are? At anything?”
Victor looked sincerely hurt, pouting and frowning at him with the magazine rolled up in his hand, arms across the chest in a stubborn pose. Yuuri smiled, smearing some baking mixture on the tip of his nose.
“Ah… You know… Sometimes I need a more hands-on approach to understand things?” Yuuri teased, delighted to watch Victor’s cheeks bloom in a lovely shade of pink as he cleaned the tip of his nose on the back of his hand.
“Y-Yuuri, I’m serious,” he murmured, trying to play tough even though the hands that circled his waist told Yuuri the complete opposite. “You’re amazing,” he placed a kiss on Yuuri’s neck, right below his ear, earning a timid shiver from him. “Handsome,” another kiss, on the hollow of his collarbone. “Talented…”
“Vitya, I’m trying to bake…” Yuuri complained weakly, melting in his arms.
“Mhm. See? So talented, my perfect fiancé.”
“You’re impossible,” Yuuri giggled, turning his head to capture his lips with a sweet kiss. “How about you show me what you like so much about me when I’m done here?”
He heard Victor’s soft gasp, then felt the weight of his body gently dropping on top of his frame as Victor whispered his name like a prayer, resting his cheek on Yuuri’s shoulder.
And to think Yuuri would have blushed furiously even at the thought of such words not even a year ago.
“Will you be a good boy for me?” Yuuri teased again, earning an eager sound of agreement from his fiancé.
“The best boy,” he promised with a kiss on his shoulder.
Yuuri smiled, feeling the warm, fuzzy emotions stirring deep in his chest as Victor quietly whispered about how much he loved him, about everything Yuuri did that added beauty to his life, every little thing he unconsciously did that made Victor feel blessed each day of his life he spent next to him, and he thought of how undeniably average he was when comparing himself to Victor and everything he meant to him. It was a pointless argument, of course, one which none of them would ever win, yet the delicious argument to have.
all south asian girls are so pretty like….. our skin can be dark like freshly baked, delicious brownies or melted, gooey dark chocolate. or it can look paler, like a cream colored cashmere sweater, or like a piping hot vanilla latte. our eyes can be dark brown, like the night, and brighten up like the moon when the sunlight hits them. or our eyes can be hazel, a beautiful combination itself. we can be skinny, or we can be fat. we can be thick n hairy. or, we can shave everything. it doesn’t matter because south asian girls are all so beautiful, and we don’t need white skin or white features to be beautiful.