by Janet Elizabeth Lynn
I grew up on Long Island, New York. I’m half Irish and half Italian, the two big I’s of the world!
In honor of my Irish heritage, the Italian side of my family celebrated St. Patrick’s Day for my father. Every, and I mean every, St. Paddy’s Day we had corned beef and cabbage, boiled potatoes and Potato Seedy Cake.
by Will Zeilinger
The last thing I needed was to wake up to a yapping dog. Not on the morning after St. Patrick’s Day. I hadn’t thrown a party like that since my college days and the hangover I had was a killer. I managed to get both eyes open and drag my sorry ass out of bed to find out what was getting Lardass worked up.
by Sharon Tucker
St. Patrick’s Day approaches on March 17 and those of us of Irish descent can justifiably dance a little, drink Guinness, Jameson, or Bushmills, and dance some more. Happily too, this year I discovered the Sister Fidelma novels of Peter Tremayne (a.k.a. Peter Bradford Ellis) so will enjoy reading all the series and probably Tremayne’s Irish history works as well.
by Sharon Tucker
It can be most comforting to sit back in your easy chair with a hot beverage and buttered scones as late winter changes to early spring, picking up a St Patrick’s Day mystery to welcome the season. Sr. Carol Anne O’Marie’s Murder at the Monk’s Table, Leslie Meier’s St. Patrick’s Day Murder and Isis Crawford’s A Catered St. Patrick’s Day will all nicely fit the bill for just that.
by Gail Farrelly
We’re not talking human snakes. There are sure to be some of them in the parade too, but we’re talking about snakes of the reptile variety, and they will not only be in the parade, but they’ll be honored guests.
by Diana Bulls
Now that I am retired and on the proverbial fixed income, I am paying more attention to the grocery store sale ads. This week, I noticed cabbage was on sale. Cooked cabbage is not a favorite with my family (except in bierocks and that’s because they don’t realize its cabbage), but every St. Patrick’s Day I put on the green and serve up corned beef and cabbage for dinner along with a spicy honey mustard sauce. I tell them we are celebrating our Irish heritage (17% on Jim’s side, 20% on my side).
by Isis Crawford
This week we have recipes from mystery novel A Catered St. Patrick’s Day by Isis Crawford, perfect for your St. Patrick’s Day celebration. At the end of this post are details on how to win a copy of the book & a link to purchase it!
by Lorie Lewis Ham
This January a Reedley icon reopened in downtown Reedley, The Pub. The Pub had been a staple of Reedley for years, but then suddenly was gone. Now it has reopened with new owners and a redesign, but the same familiar feel people love. Michael Boss and his family are the ones who have reopened the Pub, and we took a moment to chat with him about the “new” Pub.
by Nancy Brewka-Clark
“Okay.” Jackie squinted at the greasy card she’d just picked from the pile of trivia questions. The bartender, Timmy O’Toole, always pulled the pack out once a year and spread the questions under their yellowed laminated coats around the bar at random, a clump here and a clump there. “What’s small and green and has a wicked sense of humor?”
by Joel Fox
“The murder weapon,” the police officer said, holding the limp snake in his hands. The snake had repeating bands of red and yellow down the three-foot length of its body. The snake’s head was crushed and nearly flat.
by Margaret Mendel
On my trip to Ireland several years ago we landed at the Dublin airport in weather that the Irish refer to as a soft day. By this they mean a rainy day. It was an early morning arrival and the dining hall in the hotel was closed. So, we fell onto our bed in the small but efficient room and took a nap.
by Toni Goodyear
I hoisted the snare drum to my other shoulder. It was the drum my best friend Danny had played in the high school marching band, well and truly scratched but not faded, still a bright sparkling blue. He’d given it to me when he tired of it and decided to take up the trumpet.
by Elaine Faber
The old woman, Broomtilda, took me in when I was a wee kitten and named me Tinkleberry. Her idea, not mine…
Over the years, as she grew frailer, it became difficult for her to find enough work around the village to buy bread and cheese. Were it not for the old cow in the byre, we would have no milk for my breakfast and Broomtilda’s dinner.
by Jack Bates
A beer bottle smashed on the side of a guy’s head can kill him. I know from personal experience. TV and westerns will give a different impression but the night Johnny Webber got iced at our neighborhood bar proved Hollywood wrong. It happened on St. Patrick’s Day back in ’99. We were at the neighborhood bar tipping a few of the green beers and squeezing the cheeks of the girls serving us. Why not? The shorts were green and as short as the month before March. The curve of the cheek just begged for the cupping of our hands.
by C.A. Rowland
Jack turned at the sound of the flapping paper. “What the…” he yelled, as he dropped the shoe. In place of his crock of gold, a curled paper shimmered against the mantle. He tore it off the hook and unfurled it.
by Sharon Tucker
As March begins you should be stocking the pantry to prepare tasty Irish dishes on and around St. Patrick’s Day, the 17th. Taking it a step farther, may I suggest a trio of Irish authors for your reading delectation as well? Read any or all of these authors in addition to cooking up and enjoying your colcannon, skirts and kidneys, crubeens, coddles, or just tucking into a simple Ulster fry with or without black pudding.