MacKat in Ireland

Before you read this, you should make a Last Mystery Picture ever guess.

We’re done traveling now so you won’t see any more pictures from exotic locales or hear any more about how warm it is in Italy.  This is as disappointing for us as it is for you (probably more so for us).  Classes are finished and this week is set aside for nothing but studying.  We haven’t found this to be the University’s most effective decision since most people have gone home to party and the few that remain prefer belligerence over studiousness.

Yet here we are, in Kilmurry Village, cooking in what can only be described as filth.  It wasn’t so bad last week because of the periodic cleanliness check that all buildings must undergo.  Katherine and I have found it rather silly that the adults must come check on our cleanliness, but given the teenagers we live with it’s been a blessing in disguise.  The kitchen magically becomes clean the night before these checks with no moldy bread lying around, no three-week-old stains on the plates, and no spilled milk on the table/floor/counter.  And then the next day comes.

It usually starts with breakfast.  Someone puts milk and cereal in a bowl, eats a bit, and leaves it there for a few days.  At lunchtime someone else may fry sausage on the stove and leave the pan there until the next day.  Then dinnertime rolls around and chaos breaks loose.  After a night of noodles, sauce, and TV-watching, someone apparently could not muster the strength to a) finish their food or b) throw their old sauce away or c) clean the pot they used.  The result of all this is below.

Lucky for us, Belfast was having some sort of international food fair around City Hall last weekend.  There was kangaroo meat, French baguettes, German brats, and DUTCH PANCAKES.  We also perused Peruvian clothing and watched a hog roast on a spit.

The brats were rather expensive, but they were cooked by real Germans and were almost as good as the ones I had in Berlin.  Katherine tried a Hawaiian flavored French baguette which turned out to be pretty good.  The star of the party, however, was the DUTCH PANCAKES.

I won’t say how much we spent on these pancakes, but they were almost worth every penny.  Imagine 25 small, circular, slightly thick pancakes on a plate covered in powdered sugar and chocolate sauce.  This is essentially what they were, but they tasted so much better than that.  They were, by far, the best part of Belfast.