If you’re lucky enough to be Irish, then you’re lucky enough. And EVERYBODY is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. I’m writing this thinking back on the days of Paddy’s Irish in Tulsa, when the lunch hour was over and we could begin gearing up for the big night.

Because it was during the evening hours that everything kicked into gear. Standing room only, five-deep around the bar, plates and plates of corned beef, live music, and the annual march-through of the kilt-clad bagpipers.

StPat2

My kilt still fits, as it turns out. (It hasn’t changed, but I have – and I’m lucky to be back down to once-a-year-kilt-wearing-size.) I didn’t march around with any bagpipes, but I did run behind my daughter on several occasions carrying drinks and plates of corned beef.

They were plates to be proud of, to my way of thinking. I made a lot of corned beef in my Tulsa restaurant days at Paddy’s Irish (not just a once-a-year thing), and Dustin’s offering at our St. Patrick’s lunch today was everything you’d expect. Attractive on the plate, delicious to the taste. And as our neighbor at Hollow Tree Gifts (a find shopping boutique in the Rose District!) – as JoAnn reported back, “it’s so tender a baby could eat it!”

We sold out, needless to say, but made it almost through the lunch service before switching to the shepherd’s pies and the regular menu. Better to run out than throw out, the way I look at it.

A public Thanks! to Kristen for waiting the tables today, and another big Thanks! to Dustin for all his hard work in the kitchen. There is no question that – as fun as St. Patrick’s Day was at Paddy’s back in the day – I enjoyed our shamrock and corned beef lunch party a lot more. Less stress. Shorter hours.

And fewer Irish-revelers hanging on to the floor for dear life and partying into the wee hours.

So, I’ll be putting some of the party decorations away. Others stay put. We’re Irish everyday here, not just around the seventeenth of March. Remember, there are no strangers here, only friends you’ve not yet met. So,

Come visit!

McHuston

(PS The strangers and friends line is courtesy of our Irish poet friend W.B Yeats, from whom I borrow with gratitude.)