marinating butterflied spiced leg of lamb

People often ask me whether I regret leaving the wine industry to return the life of a corporate slave. And to tell you the truth, I don’t think there’s been a single moment when I’ve wished I was back in a dark cellar with waterlogged boots and hands stained a very mechanic-like deep purple from repeated exposure to red ferments. Read the rest of this entry »

Irish soda bread  As a girl with a surname like Clancy, whose paternal ancestors managed to survive the treacherous voyage from The Emerald Isle to The Sunburnt Country way back in the 1850s, I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for St Patrick’s Day. But as a girl who has been lucky enough to recently start kissing a cute Irish man, the feast day of Ireland’s favourite saint has taken on a bit more significance for me this year. You could say that over the last little while I’ve learnt a thing or two about the Irish apart from their exceptional kissing abilities. For starters, apparently St Patrick was actually Welsh but was taken to Ireland and sold as a slave when he was 16 before escaping and returning to the land of the leprechaun to preach the Christian faith using the shamrock as an analogy for the Holy Trinity. Read the rest of this entry »