There are rules or, at the very least, principles, one aims at when feeding one’s kids at home (or at least at my home): judicious use of butter, minimal frying, a balanced plate in which fiber, lean protein, and good fat achieve some sort of, well, balance. No fast food (okay, so a complete abolition is a bit severe, and I do have a soft spot for ethnic fast food that shies away from chain-ishness, but them’s the breaks. Newsflash: my kids aren’t obese!). But in Ireland on our family vacay, we didn’t have the luxury of such enforcement. Instead, we had the luxury of, well, luxury, thanks to the generosity of my wife’s family . Particularly at a place called Adare Manor, where my kids did an amazing job of sitting in their chairs while we ate a four course degustastion menu in the French style. Yes, it was Ireland, but the economic boom has a allowed my quasi-countrymen (i’m half Irish and half Filipino), to hire the French as their effective servants. Hilarious, considering the station of the Irish in the past, what, several centuries? Suffice it to say, our Frenchy meal was fabulous.
Kid faves: a confit of veal ravioli with ceps and garlic sauce and some mondo-ice cream treo/quattro/whatev (what did dad have? seared breast of duck, lyonnaise potatoes, celeriac and truffle puree and some Paulliac that made the night).
And then kids and dad hit the gardens outside full blast before collapsing for the evening.