Which brings us back to post #35. 
Being Irish, I can tell these.
What’s an Irish seven-course dinner?
A boiled potato and a six-pack.
Name seven days celebrated by the Irish by drinking.
Monday, Tuesday, Wedensday, …
It can be made from any of a number of cuts, but brisket is probably the most common. Often, commercial corned beef you get a choice of whether you want the flat or the point of the brisket. The flat is the leaner and flatter looking portion. The point is the fattier end of the brisket. You can also sometimes find it made from the round.
My choice is always the brisket point, or a whole corned brisket. (My brother makes his using the entire “packer” cut, which has the point and the flat.) But a whole corned brisket is a lot of corned beef (typically, a packer cut is about 12-14-ish pounds when uncooked, but can be a bit bigger or smaller.)
It’s not that hard to make: all you’re doing is curing beef at home. You just need the space in the fridge to keep it cool for at least a week and a half, up to three weeks or so. Typically, you’re also going to use a curing salt like Prague powder. You can do it with just regular salt, but you’ll need to use more salt, and your meat will not have the red/pink corned beef color to it, but rather end up a brownish grey, like a regular long-braised cut of beef.
yeah im not a fan of corned beef and its not authebtic anyhow and my native family members says unkind things about it “why do ya ruin a nice cut of beef … if it was a tough piece of mutton maybe …”
Well, then, celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with big parades and such isn’t authentic either, since that’s more an Irish-American thing than Irish in Ireland.
Rather than corned beef, the Irish Irish enjoy Irish bacon (in Ireland, “bacon”), which is meat cured from the pork shoulder. As opposed to American bacon (in America, “bacon”), which is pork belly.
When I was the meat and poultry buyer at the big Brooklyn Food Coop, I bought entire hogs weekly from upstate farmers. The loin roasts and tenderloins and chops would sell out, but I’d be stuck with lots of shoulder meat. One solution was to have the cutters make a quantity of it into Irish bacon.
But then I had to spend considerable time spinning yarns to confused members about what the Irish liked to eat, and what the Irish Americans liked, and how Jewish butchers promoted corned beef to the NYC Irish as a pork alternative. It did help with my shoulder meat problem, though.
Not only isn’t it Irish, it’s also the worst of the Johnny walkers. Though it’s not bad.
Johnnie Walker. And red is the worst of the bunch. Green is my favorite in terms of balancing quality and price.
Irish Women’s Liberation motto: Erin go braless!
In the style of a traditional Irish folk song: Erin Go Braless, by Jeffery O"Casey
One of my favorite scenes from Cheers: Some demonic architect of a competitor built a wall across Sam’s bar. Sam tries to get customers to come back to the bar by hiring an authentic Irish band.
Cheers to St. Patrick’s Day (1:32)
She was actually called that. And she hated it.
But the guy they named the constellation after really was O’Ryan.
(I’ve got an entire poem about him rattling around in my brain)
It’s best done in an over the top Irish accent, but easily one of my favorite jokes:
And old man and his son are sitting at the bar in a little pub on the coast of Ireland. The man turns to his son and he says, “Boyo, 70 years I’ve lived in this town but do the people here respect me? They do not.” His son nods his head, “aye.”
“For instance, this bar we’re sitting at, I built it with my own two hands. Bought the wood, planed it straight and true. But do they call me Seamus the Bar Builder? They do not.” His son nods his head, “Aye.”
“And there’s not a barn in the county that I didn’t help raise. Dozens over the years, all still standing strong. But do they call me Seamus the Barn Raiser? They do not.” His son nods his head, “Tis true.”
“And every Christmas,” the old man continued, “I make toys for all the little ones with my own two hands. Months I spend crafting all manner of dolls, toy soldiers, rocking horses and more for their children, but do the people of this town call me Seamus the Toy Maker? They do not.”
"But you fuck ONE sheep. . . "
Nah, it was just told wrong. It’s supposed to start with “Two Irishmen walk out of a bar.”
I used to think Johnnie Walker was the ne plus ultra of Scotch (good marketing on their part); then I was introduced to the concept of single malts.
Does Johnnie Walker even make a single malt?
Three men walk into a bar: a Frenchman, an Italian and an Irishman. Each orders one beer. Three flys fly into the bar and one fly lands in each man’s beer.
The Italian man plucks the fly out of his beer, says “tutto e bene” (all is well)" and drinks the beer.
The Frenchman shows his beer with the bug still inside it to the bartender and demands another beer.
The Irishman yanks the bug out of the beer, grabs it by it’s wings, shakes it while yelling
“Cough it up, you wee theivin’ bastard!”
There’s got to be a way somehow, of devising a joke about St. Patrick and his snake-related doings: concerning two Irish persons called O’Fiddey and O’Fobe…
A: “I just met an Irishman.”
B: “Oh, really?”
A: “Nah, O’Hara.”