“I was homesick when I wrote this, forgive me if it goes astray,” at least I think that’s what he said. Even if it is not, it is true that I am feeling out of place. It is an unusual kind of homesickness, since I am missing a place I never actually lived, but have only visited. The Germans have a word for it, who am I kidding the Germans have a word for everything, even it is super compound. They call it “fernweh” which translates, roughly, as “farsickness”, a bittersweet longing for a distant place. That sums it up nicely, as I sit here wishing I were on the wild Western coast of Ireland. It is an easy place to miss during this season of the green where there are reminders around every corner. It has always held a special place in my heart, ever since that first visit. It’s the place my family comes from, where I have spent not nearly enough time, but always feels like home. Gazing from the cliffs out on that white capped, deep blue sea, the salty wind in my face, just feels natural. It feels like home…and I miss it. Since, I cannot go there today, I will have to bring a bit to me and with that in mind, won’t you join me now as we stand and make the Gaelic Flip.

This drink was created by Charles Joly, who was beverage director at Chicago’s famed culinary cocktail experience, The Aviary. When I discovered this I did a literal double take, only because the recipe is so simple and straightforward, it doesn’t even have bitters, which is about as far from The Aviary as possible. I have had their book for many years and absolutely adore it, but I rarely make drinks from their recipes because they can be so complicated and time consuming to create the ingredients. This is the place that created the Green Thumb, a paean to Summer that involves making snap pea syrup used with a bespoke spice mix including fennel pollen in a drink where pea shoots are muddled with olive oil before adding gin, sherry, rum and chartreuse, that is then carbonated. Complicated, huh? Did I mention that it is served on a bed of wheatgrass which is sprayed with their “Barbeque Aroma” which is made with pureed hot dogs, charcoal and neutral spirit? Yeah, they go the extra furlong and then some. So finding that this relatively simple riff on the classic flip came from that same program was a bit surprising.

I am a big fan of flips, the drink is remarkably versatile, tied together with a common ingredient, a whole egg. Though we use egg whites quite often, that edition of the yolk makes for a creamy mouthfeel that really shines. I also love that you can pair this build with almost anything, as we have seen in the molasses based Two Boil Flip, the French Toast Flip with maple and cinnamon, Banana and Pumpkin Flips and my favorite, the Death Flip, with no real death, but a definitely dangerous combination of tequila, yellow chartreuse and JagerMeister. So, I am definitely curious to see what happens here. Let’s make it and see if the simplicity shines through.

Grab your tins and pop in 1 1/4 ounces of Irish Whiskey, I went with a lovely 12 year old RedBreast Single Pot Still; 1 ounce of Sweet Vermouth, I chose Carpano Antica, 1/4 ounce of St. Elizabeth’s Allspice Dram, 1/3 of an ounce of simple syrup and a whole egg. I prefer a reverse dry shake, so add some artisanal ice and give it a good shake to the beat of Roisin El Cherif’s haunting version of “Siúil a Rúin“. When everything is well mixed and chilled, toss out the ice and give it another “dry” shake to build up that head before pouring into something suitably flippant. Garnish with some grated nutmeg and call it a drink.

As I expected, this is perfectly lovely in its simplicity. A nice creamy mouthfeel, with a bit of comforting spice from that allspice dram and even more comfort from the Irish whiskey. It’s a bit sweet for my tastes, but that makes sense with these ingredients. I always think of Irish whiskey as the sweet version anyway. On the other hand Laura loved it, deeming it a festive not quite egg nog. I get that, it is suitably creamy, goes down smooth and has that comforting nutmeg on top. I’d sip that again, for the comfort that’s in it, but someone seems to have wandered off with my cup.

I had planned to make this one for our St. Patrick’s Day celebrations here at Stately Monkey Manor, but I got distracted. It happens. The time was well spent, though. We had most of the family over, so I spent a good part of the afternoon cooking Corned Beef and peeling and chopping several hundred pounds of potatoes. I know you can boil ’em, mash ’em, stick ’em in a stew, but if you don’t want the niblings looking askance, first someone has to peel ’em, and that someone was me. Not that I am complaining. I enjoy simple tasks with clear outcomes. No second guessing, no wondering if you are doing it well enough, just a bit of work to be done. Good work that brings joy, in its way, and sustenance. Honest work that leads to memories of time spent around a table sharing stories and fellowship. It is good. It is honest. It is wholesome. I have to say that it’s hard to ask for much more on a Tuesday afternoon as the fields begin to turn green once more. Of course, as I stood at my task, gazing out the kitchen window, I did not want to see those fields. I longed to see stone walls, to taste the hint of salt and the smell of peat smoke in the air, to hear the distant crash of the surf. Not that my reality was unpleasant with the view of our fields, the smell of the corned beef simmering, a sharp knife and a task, but still; it’s not the same. So, I let my mind wander to that place and sang softly to myself as the pile of potatoes turned into pots of freshly peeled pieces. It was a quiet and wholly rewarding way to pass the time. I needed that.

To say life can be complicated is an understatement, especially in these once again “unprecedented times”. There is a lot going on in the world and very little of it feels positive. It is easy to look out and see how bad things are, to wonder how we will ever pull back from the brink and live up to the promise of the world we owe our children. It is enough to drive you mad, but we can’t let it. We have to find ways to keep ourselves together so we can be here to help build things back, better this time. Before the flight takes off, they always remind us to put on our own masks first, so we can take care of those who need help. Do that. Put on your own mask first. If that means going for a long walk, do that. If it means screaming into the void or howling at the moon, do that. It may mean hitting the punching bag till your knuckles bleed, so do that. Whatever it takes. For me, sometimes it means peeling potatoes, while longing for a place I can’t get back to yet. So, I do that, because I know, that if we keep the faith and work for it, we will get back there, together; but only if we only stay safe, stay hydrated and stay sane, my friends.