Next Stop: Ireland

What noshing on seaweed taught me about a possible future. Plus, a travel tip!

Prannie Rhatigan noshing on some seaweed.

Seaweed. On one hand, I love the smell. It’s a smell that puts me on the western shores of Ireland, surrounded by gently crashing waves as I traipse behind Prannie Rhatigan (of Irish Seaweed Kitchen fame) who's in a full wetsuit, giddily grabbing bits of seaweed to eat straight from the ocean.

On the other hand, it grosses me the fuck out. Touching it, specifically with my feet, puts me back to my earliest days at the beach, tiptoeing nervously to what I was certain would be my demise (I couldn’t swim and would flail wildly as if someone just dropped a toaster into my bathtub). It’s gooey and just feels like something you’re not supposed to have on your body.

(Side note, it also makes me think of the swimming level from the original, the impossible Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles video game. This note will resonate with maybe two people who get this. Cowabunga.)

I’m thinking about Ireland and seaweed because I –– despite being terrible at such things throughout the pandemic –– attended a Zoom lecture. The lecture was entitled, “Gaelic Vegetarianism and Veganism & Colonial Resistance” presented by Dr. Corey L. Wrenn.

The gist being that inhabitants of Ireland were mostly vegan, using their cows for more resourceful, practical things than feeding them for slaughter. It wasn’t until British colonization that things changed with the United Kingdom using Ireland as their own personal cattle farm. Any decent soil went to livestock. The rest went to the resilient potato, which is how that became intrinsically linked with Irish cuisine. Not to mention, you know, the famine.

Yet think of Ireland and your mind probably does jump to meat and potatoes (unless a Pogues tune grabs you first), even though it’s all a relatively recent development. The same goes for Ashkenazi Jewish cuisine, of which I’ve done a fair bit of writing on over the past few years with a recent focus on vegetarianism and how the image of Jewish food swiftly changed to massive, meaty sandwiches — and how a new generation of cooks are taking it back to its plant-first roots. (How’s that for a run-on sentence?)

This news excited me. It shows there’s a historic precedent for the things we see happening today; people generally caring more about where their food comes from and reconsidering how much meat they eat.

It also shows just how quickly things can change. Think of how quickly smoking a cigarette went from being a literal symbol of “cool” to something many consider utterly repulsive. I mean, I’d rather people thought I had body odor issues than think I was a smoker.

So whenever I hear someone say, “Oh, that’ll never happen…” whether it’s about people driving less or eating less meat, I think about just how quickly things changed for the worse. They can, and inevitably will change again. This time, I like to think, for the better.

Or I’m wrong and we’ll all be chomping down on T-bone steaks like Fred Flintstone, speeding down six-lane highways away from the floods and wildfires with “We’ll Meet Again” playing like at the end of Dr. Strangelove.

Travel Tip

I’m going to try and include some practical tips here beyond my ramblings. A travel tip would seem to make sense, given what I do. But considering the broad geographical imprint of the 300-ish folks who subscribe to this thing, I’m going to keep it general. We’ll see how it goes.

Tourism bureaus are not cool. They are the teacher’s pet of the travel industry in the minds of many. If you’re a hip, edgy traveler who’s only down for real experiences, then you despise tourism bureaus. The rest of you are neutral. At best.

I’m guessing you’d peg me as someone who’s dismissive of tourism bureaus. Reader, do not take a sip of that water in front of you unless you want to do a spit take. Here it goes.

I think tourism bureaus can be a valuable resource.

Yes, I can be a brash, pretentious tool about some things. For example, my belief that the invention of the automobile was and remains one of the most destructive inventions in the history of humankind wins me few followers outside of the choir. (Over a million die every year around the world, not counting the secondary effects they have on our health and cities. But sure, I’m the crazy one!)

I’m certain there are examples of nefarious tourism bureaus out there. But for the most part, the people working there are so nuts about where they live that they want to show it off to other people. It’s kinda quaint!

I’ve found tourism bureaus in Germany are a great way to learn about destinations and regions off the tourist trek. And contrary to the perception that tourism bureaus are disconnected from reality, I’ve had some pretty frank conversations with tourism reps from Frankfurt to Dresden and Detroit. They do not see their cities through rainbow-colored glasses.

The point is, if you’re looking for something different to do in your backyard or wherever you’re heading, you could do worse than to send an email to your local tourist bureau.

Words

In an effort to learn more about German cuisine, I still ended up making something pretty Italian with mandarins that probably came from Morocco, Egypt, or Spain. But it’s based on a dish from a German restaurant in Berlin using a grain — pearl barley — that seems to be pretty popular in German/Central European cuisine. You can get the recipe and read more about it here.