The Soul of Irish Soda Bread

Several years ago I spent ten days cycling up the west coast of Ireland, from Cork to Galway. It rained eight of those ten days, a soft but persistent mist that soaked me through to the bone. Once I had become used to being wet though, it didn’t bother me. It felt refreshing and made the hot bath and warm B&B bed at the end of the day even more enjoyable.

Four days into my journey I biked the Ring of Kerry, a scenic route that circles the Iveragh Peninsula and is quite popular with tourists. The road runs through fields so green it makes your teeth ache just to look at them, dipping in and out of sea swept curves along a rocky coast. This is the Ireland of postcards: small towns with picturesque pubs; endless stone walls; men in the fields cutting peat; sheep and cows grazing alongside the road.



Late in the afternoon I rode through the small town of Kells. The solid gray of the sky had begun to break up and light—not quite sunshine, but light—was filtering through. I passed a B&B set among green fields sloping down to the sea, a view of the Dingle Peninsula in the distance. It was beautiful but I had planned to spend the night in Glenbeigh, a little further along the route, so I continued on.

A mile later I turned around and went back to the B&B. Something was calling me there. I had an overwhelming urge to wake up in that spot, with that view.

I was met at the door by Agnes O’Sullivan, the motherly proprietor. She took one look at my wet state and bustled me into the sitting room where she lit a peat fire and brought me a pot of hot tea and slices of her home baked brown soda bread.

Irish soda bread is like a bowl of hot cereal to go. It’s moist, nutty, and slightly sweet, with the comfort level of my grandfather’s oatmeal. It makes you feel not only fed, but nourished. I sat in front of the fire, inhaled my tea and bread, and watched as the sun sank behind the hills of Dingle Peninsula across calm waters, and the distant lights of Dingle town appeared. I felt completely at home.

Agnes continued to cluck and mother me. We talked about the changes that tourism has brought to this small corner of Ireland—she had little bad to say about it, the tourists bring income and jobs. She let me help her hang out the laundry, and sent me to bed with a hot water bottle and her blessings.

In the morning she had set a place for breakfast in the sitting room but I asked if she minded me joining her in the kitchen. She laughed and let me, serving more of her delicious brown bread and making jam sandwiches for me to take as a snack on the road.

This was the experience I had been craving in Ireland, though I didn’t even know it. I was cycling through some of the most beautiful scenery ever, but I wanted to connect with people. Until that point I had felt like a visitor—put in the breakfast room while the family eats in the kitchen. I wanted to get into the kitchen. I wanted to forget company manners and sit around a kitchen table, cozy from the warmth of the stove, to talk and laugh, and share our lives. That’s exactly what Agnes and I did and I felt grateful. Though my travel plans were calling me north, I didn’t want to leave.

When we were done eating, we washed the dishes together and Agnes hugged me goodbye. She called me her angel and told me she knew we'd meet again. She said she would wave to me, across the water in Dingle, at 8 PM that night. I promised her I would wave back.

After a final hug I packed up my bike and headed north. In my bag was a copy of Agnes’ brown bread recipe, and in my belly was the feeling of having been not only fed, but nourished.



AGNES O’SULLIVAN’S BROWN BREAD

This is a boon of a recipe for me because I am yeast challenged (more on that some other day). I’ve read that Irish soda bread, to be considered truly traditional, can contain only flour, soda, salt, and buttermilk, but this is the recipe Agnes shared with me and it’s delicious.

1 lb whole-wheat flour
2 oz wheat bran
1 tsp baking soda
3 tsp brown sugar
1/4 tsp salt
2 oz wheat germ
1 lb white flour
2 oz margarine (you can use butter but yes, the orginal recipe calls for margarine)
buttermilk and yogurt mixed (about 1 1/2 cup of each I find)

Mix all dry ingredients. Cut margarine into dry ingredients. Add enough buttermilk and yogurt to make dough soft. Knead briefly and put into two buttered loaf pan. Bake for 45-60 minutes at 338°F (170°C).

And if you ever find yourself in the small town of Kells, on the Ring of Kerry, go stay with Agnes. Tell her the wet girl on the bike sent you.

Agnes O’Sullivan
Taobh Coille
Gleesk, Kells, County Kerry
Tel.: 066-9477626
agnesosullivankells@eircom.net