the teapoetry tribune

Woman Thinks About Soda Bread

Ginny Graham, 78, and a former Bostonian of Irish descent, was recently thinking about Irish Soda Bread. "I love it so much, and when St. Patrick's Day comes around, I always say to myself, I should make this kind of bread more often," Graham continued talking about her obsession, saying, "I love the dense, crumbly texture and the way, at first, you think it's stale, but it's not." When encouraged to say more, Graham admitted that her favorite part is the raisins. "Without raisins," she explained," I don't really like it. I have a sweet tooth and love the way raisins balance off the other pretty plain ingredients." Acknowledging that raisins are not part of the traditional Irish recipe, this enthusiast said, "Adding raisins doesn't bother me. I first learned about soda bread from a woman born in Ireland, and she packed her loaves full of them. That's good enough for me." Surprisingly, Graham lamented that she had been traveling right before St. Patrick's Day this year and was so tired from the trip that she didn't have the energy to bake any. "At this point in my life, just talking about Irish Soda Bread makes me happy.”

Woman Prompts Sister on Soda Bread

Gnny Graham, 78, a resident of DC, was recently disappointed that she hadn't eaten Irish Soda Bread on St. Patrick's Day, so she decided to text her sister, Lauren. "Thought of you on St. Patrick's Day," Graham wrote, I wondered if you had made and were still eating some Irish Soda Bread?" Graham reported that she was delighted to read that her sister had made it with traditional raisins, golden raisins, and currents. "I skipped the caraway seeds. Used a muffin tin, instead of a loaf pan." Graham's sister texted, and then went on to admit that she recognized that her recipe was "a far cry from the traditional mounded loaf." As Graham and her sister continued to text, Graham enjoyed being reminded that they came from a household that disdained raisins. When her sister quoted their mother saying, "I don't even like the word," Graham laughed, decided to stop texting, and call. As often happens with her sister, Graham reported that their conversation covered a range of topics and told the press that it was really fun to swap stories about Irish Soda Bread. "My sister and I both love Soda Bread and love to talk about it." Graham's favorite part of the conversation was when her sister described her Irish Soda Bread sitting on the counter, "begging to be eaten." Graham plans to buy fresh raisins and bake some this week, now that she feels more rested. 

. . . a traditional mounded loaf

Gratefulness for a Friend

Ginny Graham, 78, a resident of DC and writer for the Wannaskan Almanac, struggled this past week following the passing of fellow writer, Catherine Stenzel. “Of all the members of the Almanc, I knew her the least,” Graham reported, "but it says a lot about Catherine that in the short time I knew her, she made such a lasting impression." Graham went on to discuss her admiration for Catherine's complexity, ambition, her poetry, and especially her epic poem, The One. "Having heard about Catherine's health concerns, I was really moved by her March 12th post. The series of stark, sensory images, like the cracking of long bones, ripped flesh, the wrench and tear of ice that drags and cuts, got me lamenting the nature of Catherine's final encounter. I knew she was aware that she was dying, so I found the line It seems only a matter of time particularly poignant." A few years ago, when Graham broke her ankle, Catherine revealed an attitude that combined both compassion and courage. "As long as I live, I'll credit conversations with her for strengthening my own capacity for fierceness in the face of adversity. When I feel like a wimp, I think of Catherine's practices and feel stronger." In a follow-up interview, Graham said, "To me, Catherine's life was such a profound achievement. I loved the way, in so many ways, she modeled the possibility of becoming One with all of it. No wonder she chose the name, Jack Pine Savage."

Smiling Savagery