
Róisín Lafferty: ‘I never thought I'd live outside of Dublin, now I might never go back'
I grew up in Goatstown, south Co Dublin. It was a pretty ordinary 1950s-era semi-detached house. For some reason, in every house I've lived in I've lived in the attic. I prefer being at the top of the house, like a cat — it feels nice and tucked away. My mum still lives in my childhood home. She's lived in it her whole life because my grandad lived there previously, and I grew up with him. I've actually redone the house for her since to make it function better. We knocked down a few walls and changed the configuration. I think in some cases I put aesthetics over function, which she never lets me hear the end of. I was always the girl in school

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Telegraph
4 hours ago
- Telegraph
Summer potato recipes from salads to creamy cheese croquettes
Ah, the humble potato. It's easy to take for granted, but it has a rich and fascinating history – especially in Ireland. Between 1845 and 1852, the Great Famine struck, when disease wiped out the country's main food source, leading to mass starvation. Amid this tragedy, a French chef named Alexis Soyer, who was something of a celebrity in London for cooking for the upper classes, travelled to Dublin and set up a soup kitchen that fed 100 people an hour. He also published affordable cookbooks filled with budget-friendly recipes. I'm lucky enough to have a couple of early editions in my cookbook library, sitting proudly alongside the works of Eliza Acton, Hannah Glasse and other culinary legends. Potatoes truly deserve a starring role on our plates. There are so many incredible varieties available, each with its own flavour, texture and charm – not to mention some fantastic names. French varieties such as Ratte and pink fir apple made their way to Britain in the late 1800s. The knobbly pink fir apple, with its waxy texture and nutty flavour, is a standout. You don't even need to peel it – just give it a good scrub, or boil and then scrape off the skin if you prefer a smoother finish. And then there's the legendary Jersey Royal, which has its own origin story. Hugh de La Haye bought two enormous potatoes with 16 eyes, chopped them up, and shared them with his friends to plant. The following year, on a steep slope by the sea, little kidney-shaped spuds emerged. The Jersey Royal – once nicknamed the Jersey Fluke – was born. I've been lucky enough to see them growing on those steep hills, known as cottles, covered in seaweed that gives them their signature flavour. That waxy, earthy taste makes them ideal for a salad – like my one with creamy cuttlefish and salty samphire. Simple, elegant and bursting with freshness. There are floury potatoes such as Maris Piper, Desiree and King Edward. These fluff up beautifully when cooked, making them perfect for chips, roasties or anything that needs a bit of crispiness. They're great all-rounders too, which makes them spot-on for a rösti. Speaking of which, rösti is one of those underrated potato dishes that deserves more love in UK kitchens. Originating in 16th-century Switzerland as a breakfast dish for farmers, it's traditionally made from grated cooked potatoes. Golden, crispy and comforting – it's a real winner. So next time you reach for a potato, remember – there's a whole lot of history and flavour packed into that little tuber.


BreakingNews.ie
11 hours ago
- BreakingNews.ie
Irish people avoid chats about religion, politics, and money, research reveals
Despite loving gossip and a chat, some topics still stay firmly off the table for Irish people, with the top three being religion, politics, and money. New research from Lyons Tea has revealed that religion tops the list of most avoided topics, with 43 per cent of people saying they actively avoid it in conversation. Politics follows at 36 per cent, with money and finances close behind at 35 per cent. Advertisement When it comes to a chat over a cuppa, it is all about family, friends, and a bit of gossip. More than half of Irish people (53 per cent) say their favourite thing to talk about over a cup of tea is friends and family, ahead of news and current affairs (30 per cent), travel plans (26 per cent), and hobbies (26 per cent). Over a quarter also admit their go-to tea time chat is catching up on the latest local gossip (26 per cent). The research also found that while Irish people are fluent in small talk, they are far less likely to open up when it comes to mental health and personal issues. Advertisement Nearly one in three (30 per cent) avoid discussing personal struggles, and 21 per cent steer clear of conversations around mental health altogether. A nation of talkers Despite this, Ireland still stands out as a country that prioritises real-world connection. While people in the UK and US average just 33–35 minutes of face-to-face chat a day, Irish adults clock in at nearly 2.27 hours—almost four times more. Head of Marketing IRL at Lyons Tea, Fiona Collins, said: 'Ireland has always been a nation of talkers—and our research shows we still prefer face-to-face conversation more than most. "But even so, we're not talking nearly enough, especially when it comes to the things that really matter. Between busy lives and digital distractions, those meaningful chats are happening less than they should. 'With our 'Puts the Talk Into Tea' campaign, we're on a mission to encourage people to make time for proper chats—topics big and small. "A cup of tea has always acted as a way to check in, sit down, and say what's on your mind. We've been putting the talk into tea for decades, and we're proud to continue that legacy.'


The Guardian
14 hours ago
- The Guardian
On Ireland's peat bogs: climate action clashes with tradition
Doreen King, the project manager of Bord na Móna's peatlands climate action scheme, and Mark McCorry, ecology manager, walk past a carbon flux monitor, in Ballynahown. Rewetting bogs 'is all about reducing the carbon emissions from the bare peatlands', says King King holds bog grass in a restored bogland, in Ballynahown. Bog grass, which holds in carbon, is a critical flora of peatlands A drone view shows the scars on the landscape of peat harvesting in Clonbullogue. Bord na Móna has been charged with trying to restore damaged bogs to curb the carbon emissions and allow natural ecosystems to restore themselves, eventually turning them back into carbon sinks A drone's view shows a stage of the rewetting process at Ballaghurt Bog where the grids are flooded with water to seal in the carbon emissions, near Clongawny View of a marked control square, set out before recording a carbon emission measurement at Ballycon Bog, in Mount Lucas. Degraded peatlands in Ireland emit the equivalent of 21.6m metric tons of CO2 each year, according to the 2022 UN report Johny Gorry uses a digging machine to cut away chunks of peat to put through a turf installation machine, in Clonbullogue. Contractors dig turf on behalf of plot owners, who then stack turf sods to dry and transport home to burn over the winter John Smyth, 69, squeezes freshly cut turf before stacking it up for drying over the summer months, in Mount Lucas. Smyth, like many households, uses turf to heat and fuel his house. A single harvest can heat a home for a year for less than €1,000 without the stress of energy bills Bog cotton, or common cottonsedge in Clonydonnin Bog, a cutaway bog, in Ballynahown. Ireland's bogs were formed over thousands of years as decaying plants formed a thick layer of peat in wetland areas As the peat stacking process starts in Clonbullogue, freshly cut turf is stacked into a pyramid shape, known locally as a foot, to help with the drying process. Wooden posts mark where each person's plot of turf begins Willie Flynn (left), 74, and Michael Morrissey (right), 72, load dried turf cut from a patch they rented for the year to bring home to use for heating, in Clonbullogue. The turf is cut into sods by a tractor and is then 'footed' – stacked by hand to dry over several weeks - before being transported home for fuel John Smyth, 69, drinks a cup of tea as he looks out of the window of his house at sunset, in Mount Lucas. Smyth heats his home with peat turf harvested from a bog. 'I can never see the day that we won't need turf,' he says. 'I'm going to keep it going for as long as I can, as long as turf is available' A drone's view shows turf from Derryrush bog left out to dry after being harvested from the blanket bog. The shadow of the now late Jim Bracken, then 92, seen in the hearth of the outdoor living room of his friend, Willie Pilkington, 79, as they catch up over a cup tea made on a turf fire. About 68,000 households in Ireland were still dependent on turf for home heating in 2022, down from 90,000 in 2011, according to census data Smyth chops up firewood from a tree that fell after Storm Éowyn, in Mount Lucas. Ireland has introduced strict rules on the burning of solid fuels. Wood must be dried so it has a moisture content of less than 25%. Harry Kelly, a carbon technician with Bord na Móna, takes a photo on a makeshift boardwalk among the reeds at Ballycon Bog, in Mount Lucas. Bord na Móna permanently ceased harvesting peat on its lands in 2021 and now focuses on renewable energy, recycling, peatland restoration A drone's view shows the rehabilitated Ballycon Bog, some 20 years after rewetting, in Mount Lucas. High rainfall and poor drainage causes blanket bogs to develop over hundreds of years on large expanses of land, supporting rich biodiversity, including rare plants and vulnerable species A person stands on top of Diamond Hill in the Connemara national park, which is surrounded by a protected blanket bog found in lowlands of mountainous regions with a rainy climate, in Letterfrack Smyth stacks freshly cut turf into a pyramid shape, or foot, which helps the peat dry over the summer months, in Clonbullogue Bracken and Smyth drink tea made using peat turf, in Rhode. Open turf fires have long lent a unique peaty smell to homes and pubs across rural Ireland Doreen King holds sphagnum moss in a restored bogland, in Ballynahown. Raised bogs need certain types of mosses, collectively known as sphagnum, to grow in order for peat to form, according to Bord na Móna A drone's view shows the early stages of the rewetting process at Ballaghurt Bog, near Clongawny. Bord na Móna has been charged with trying to 'rewet' the bogs to curb the carbon emissions, allowing natural ecosystems to restore themselves, eventually turning them back into carbon sinks A drone's view shows secondary school students stacking freshly cut turf on a raised bog to help the peat dry over the summer months, in Clonbullogue Mark McCorry, an ecology manager with Bord na Móna, searches for a family of egrets that have begun nesting in the rehabilitated cutaway Boora Bog, near Glen Lower. 'In the longer term, we will see more and more of those bogs, you know, switching back to sinks for carbon,' McCorry says