Dunno about you, but I avoided Pinterest for the longest time.
Not because it didn’t look good – quite the reverse, in fact. A world of virtual pin boards, teeming with pretty pictures and inspiring visuals, covering almost any subject you care to mention, Pinterest had (and has) a lot going for it in the looks department. No, I figured, you see, that I couldn’t afford to become seduced by another social network, that I should be strong in the face of its visual charm, that I should, in a word, resist, but resistance – as any reader of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy will know – is useless.
This is especially true of Pinterest, with its image-based format so supremely suited to the short attention span of the average netizen. Once I had succumbed – for succumb I did – blog posts became the stuff of potatoey pin boards, making years of spudly content visible at a single glance and demonstrating that it was the waiting that had, in fact, been useless.
Inspired by Danish butter cookies, made with Irish butter
I’m not exactly sure when it was that Danish butter cookies became a feature of Christmas in our house, but feature they did for several years, with their round, swirled and pretzel shapes and their always-buttery taste.
It’s like busses, there are no competitions on the blog for ages and then two come together. I’ve been busy contacting the winners of the Taste of Dublin competition
this week, but if you missed out (or even if you didn’t), I have something even better for you today…
It’s not that my Da will object to a drop of red wine if offered but, truth be told, it wouldn’t be his first choice of beverage. And he certainly wouldn’t be doing any sniffing or swirling of the wine before taking a generous swallow and pronouncing whether he thought it a nice drop or not. Still, we each enjoy our tipples in our own way and, if I were to be completely honest, part of the reason for bringing bottles of red when I visit home is that I get to enjoy them too.
As far as food goes, my Da is a plain eater and has gotten pickier in his old age – spuds and chops, brown bread and cheddar cheese, apple crumble and apple stewed – these are mainstays of his diet. That and his own peculiar take on breakfast. There is, therefore, little point in me bringing fancy foods home to mark Father’s Day, or any other day, for that matter.
You, on the other hand, might like to do just that and, if so, read on.