My Paddy Pinings: 1. Curry Cheese Chips

I've decided to do a series of posts on everything altogether Irish that I'm going to miss the most now that I am officially an expat. Those general miscellany that really and truly only exist in Ireland and it is my belief that there's nothing more fitting to begin with than the humble 'Curry Cheese Chip'.

For the uneducated you are probably thinking that this is actually gross (the picture above might not help matters) but hear me out. Like the Irish themselves, it's not about looks when it comes to this delicacy. To be honest I reckon the first ever Curry Cheese Chips concocted was because of a (possible drink induced, knowing our type) mistake. In fact more often than not you have heard of someone who knows someone, whose sister's boyfriend's cousin twice removed came up with the idea to place cheese on top of curry chips (I've a vague fragmented memory of asking my local chippee to add cheese to my curry chips off menu, so guilty as charged). Tastes amazing. Nom nom nom nom.

It is not something you can nor should eat very often, moreover it should be a reward for your consumption of over ten pints of beer and not actually choking on your own vomit (I've awoken many a morning after a night of heavy drinking in my early twenties smelling of stale curry cheese and regret).  If you wish to truly sample the Curry Cheese Chip they way it's meant to be then make your way to your local ITICA chipper (Irish Traditional Italian Chipper Association, mind boggling considering no equivalent chippers are in Italy, how did these Italians create a monopoly in Ireland from something that doesn't seem to exist in their own country?). Sorry Supermacs yours just don't hold a candle to the original and best. Thick cut chips, my preference is for the cheese to be placed on next that once the curry sauce is poured over them it will speed up the melting process. The cheese should always be the finest Irish red cheddar. I'm salivating just now thinking of them, again nom.

It really is specific only to Ireland, you can walk into most chippers and order away, tried once to get them in the UK and received a response along the lines of:

English Chippee: 'Curry cheese chips? Aaaahre you menall?'


I salute you, you crazy Irish, those that have the courage and conviction to add cheese to curry sauce and for it not only to taste good but for it to become a staple in our modern fast food culture. Bravo, bravo.

The Swiss Life

So I’ve arrived, yay me. This whole emigration thing is all a bit ambivalent for me. On the one hand I’m screaming ‘Wohoo’ in my head, I’m am free, I am living the the romantic dream, my job is my art, my art is my writing (if you can call it that) I am kept now about start my new life in a new country. How amazing? Then my other duality takes over, I’m jobless, I’ve yet to secure a single interview, my German is still very basic, oh woe is me.

Calm it down GBM, it will come, it will come.

After what seemed like the wettest week in Irish history and the possibility of a weekend of 25 degrees in Zurich I can’t say I was too sad to leave my beautiful green isle. Yes Ireland I won’t miss the weather, your complete lack of summer over the last 5 years has pushed me to this state of abandonment. You left me no other choice. I will not miss your constant drenching. That said you will always be my shire for you shelter and house the majority of the people in this wee life o' mine that I love the most. I’ll give you that, I’ll give you that. Fare thee well mine shire, I will always love thee but it’s time for this new Swiss way of life. Given I’ve just arrived I can not really detail yet what Swiss life entails.

Calm it down GBM, it will come, it will come.

GBM

Greetings and Salutations

Where to start?

I'm a 20 something redheaded Irish boy currently residing in Dublin, who's about to leave it all behind; job, apartment, childhood friends, and relocate to a new country with Husband.

Husband’s promotion and relocation package sees us reposition ourselves to the Financial Services capital of Switzerland otherwise known as Zurich or as I like to call it the city that likes to empty my wallet.

The city is so money and it doesn't even know it! No but in all seriousness it does seem like an amazing place to set up shop even if my inner stickler would rather tear my hair out than pay 5 Francs (about €4.00) for a small bottle of sparkling water.


Husband assures me his new earnings will be sufficient to support us both should I not secure work over there straight away, he will be the daddy to my need for sugar, which to be honest is a very strange situation for me to be in. I've always worked; ever since I've left college so this new found level of almost parental dependence will come as a bit of a shock to the senses. It might never happen, I might even get a job before I follow him over, you never know but I am at a slight disadvantage considering my grasp of the German language leaves a lot to be desired. According to something called the European Framework I'm at level A1A, sounds great huh but think the opposite of your Leaving Cert. I think this puts me at the grading equivalent of signing my name.

The move has me absolutely terrified and exhilarated to varying degrees (I have the emotional stability of a child at Disneyland who has lost his parents).

Overall my desire to dive into the swimming pool of new adventure and experience won over my practical need for stability (giving up a job in this economy, blah blah blah). Oh yes and the other big factor in my decision making would be the that crazy little thing called love, which I will now speak no more of out of fear of making you all barf and the risk of enlarging Husbands already inflated ego to the point that his giant 'Jake Gyllenhall' head can no longer fit through the doorframe.

So I'm diving in; in to the high cost of living, to being an expat, to the land of chocolate, to learning a new language, to Lido bars, to snowboarding, to a renters market, to more money than sense, to possible joblessness and subsequent poverty, to being a house husband, to being a kept man and to finally tasting fondue.

So I guess I'm asking you to come along for the ride, I'll try to make it funny and interesting but no guarantees. I can however guarantee that I will always be a big goofy ginger Irish 'man-boy' regardless of where I call home.

Ta ta for now

GBM