As I boarded my
bus chariot for the evening, I realised that I might have come slightly underprepared on the food supplies front. The journey ahead would normally take an hour and a half or less, but the weather and traffic were abysmal. My chariot driver told me that the same journey the day before have taken him a ghastly 7 and a half hours. Testament to the fact that we Irish cannot handle snow at all. Anything more than a brief flurry and the country grinds to a halt.
I should tell you now that I am one of those types that get quite cranky without frequent food injections. Food o’clock is round the clock in my world. Know also that the sum total of my food supplies for the journey amounted to 2 kiwi fruit and half a slice of banana bread. I would have to introduce rationing in case the journey turned into anything like the marathon of the day before, which, judging by the conditions, it looked like it might.
Thus, as the chariot sat immobile in traffic and I sensed the onset of where’s-my-dinner hunger pangs, I allowed myself the first kiwi fruit. My mind, however, was on an entirely different food journey, as it began to fixate on what it was that I really wanted to eat. It was an idea that had been planted during a lunchtime conversation. Right then, right there, what I wanted was a chip butty. Junk food par excellence. The ultimate cholesterol hit. A sandwich of white batch bread, thickly buttered and occupied by thickly-cut chips. Not french fries, but chips, thick oblongs of potato, deep-fried, well salted and well vinegared. Not the kind I would make for myself but the kind that that come from a proper chipper (for the uninitiated, that translates as fish-and-chip shop). I comforted myself with the last morsel of banana bread, which was nice (well, very nice, and I’ll post about that later) but right at that moment, it suffered greatly from the fact that it wasn’t a chip butty.
In the end, I didn’t even have to resort ot the second kiwi fruit. After 2 and a half hours, I was deposited at my destination and I arrived to find dinner-in-waiting, which included my beloved crash hot potatoes with butter, and a fresh loaf of batch bread on the counter. Not exactly the makings of a chip butty, but pretty damn close, pretty damn close indeed! To round it all off, I found that this here spud had merited inclusion in the longlists for the Irish Blog Awards and also got a nice mention over at CheapEats.ie. No chip butties, mind, but terribly nice all the same.