For the sake of argument and time, I’m going to say: You can buy anything you want in Ireland these days. So, okay, that’s not really true; the rest of this post is about how it isn’t true, and there are probably going to be a few future posts expounding on how it isn’t true. But considering the fact that I used to lug things like extra toothpaste, a spare bottle of whatever overpriced makeup I was using at the time, and peppermint tea across the Atlantic, because I just didn’t have enough choices here should I run out, the country has turned into a veritable Bergdorf-Target-Thriftway in the last few years.
All that said, I’ve made my first care-package list to send to my mom. It’s small.
1. Liquid Smoke
It is a truth universally acknowledged…
…that everything is better with bacon.
And I don’t say that lightly. I’m a vegetarian. That doesn’t ordinarily cause a problem. I’ve never met a green veggie I haven’t liked and I’ve heard that, statistically, half of the world is vegetarian. But I’m in Ireland now, and have run into a little bit of a snag. The only meat I ever miss or crave is bacon and sausages. I’m pretty sure Ireland has the best bacon and sausages in the world. Like, the cheapest, dodgiest-looking breakfast sausages in the supermarket taste really really good. And there are fifty-seven different kinds of bacon.
None of which I can eat.
But the gods of taste buds (and of pigs, probably), came up with a solution in the form of Liquid Smoke–otherwise known in my kitchen as (f)acon. Which, if I just choose not to read the ingredients and don’t use it in the same meal where someone is having the real thing, creates a pretty decent bacon-y taste. Trust me. Slow-cooked collard greens with onion, garlic and (f)acon are pretty darn tasty.
So I went on a merry search for (f)acon in Dublin. Started at Superquinn (think Thriftway or Acme). The response: “Oh, yeah. We’ve got that!” Followed by a beaming, personal escort to the barbecue sauce section. Plenty of barbecue sauce. No (f)acon. I bought some barbecue sauce. The poor guy would have been heartbroken otherwise. (Bought some Superquinn sausages, too, for the rest of the family. I’ll consider it some sort of penance, sitting with them while they eat. Superquinn sausages are the best. Bar none.)
Moved on to Tesco (think Thriftway or Acme on a light steroid dose). The response: “Squirt-on smoke flavor? You’re having me on, right?” Said very pleasantly, I must add. The same girl and I were totally in accord about the fact that most American chocolate tastes faintly of Parmesan cheese, but Reese’s PB Cups are fab. She gamely looked everywhere such an abomination might have been shelved. Then sent me to the barbecue sauce section. She was made of tougher stuff than Mr. Superquinn, so I didn’t buy any.
Finally, tried Cavistons (Dean and DeLuca). The response, after the offer of a sample of smoked salmon that it broke my heart to refuse: “Do you know anyone in America, by chance?”
Mom…?
2. Tide Pens
I cook a lot. I eat out, often in Italian restaurants. I have children. Once in a while I decide that I don’t like the top I’m wearing and change, pulling said top over my head– forgetting that now I have all or a combination of lipstick, mascara, and tinted moisturizer on my face.
I go through Tide Pens a lot faster than, in the advent of laptops/iPads/iPhones, real pens.
No one here has even heard of them, but every single person I’ve shown my always-in-my-bag one to has wanted it.
Mom, you might need to send a few dozen.
3. Scotchgard.
Nowhere to be found. “Do you know anyone in America, by chance? Ah, no, that’s no good, is it? You wouldn’t be able to send the aerosol on a plane…”
Okay, so I get that aerosol is evil. I kinda like that (except I readily admit I would be lost without my Elnett). I respect a country that tries to do something about the hole in the ozone layer. But this is Ireland, for heaven’s sake. Ireland. It rains. Like, a lot. Things need to be waterproof here.
Women wear decent shoes in Dublin. Some women wear pretty fabulous shoes here. In fact, I admired a pair of truly spectacular suede boots in Grafton Street over the weekend. The reason I didn’t buy them? Well, okay, I didn’t buy them because they were €350. But I especially wouldn’t buy €350 suede boots because it rains here. Like, a lot.
Mommy… Huh. Nope. Don’t suppose you can do much about that one. But I would be ever so grateful for the other two.
Tune in next week when our intrepid heroine goes looking for Sunblock 100+…