WE HAVE started writing to a class in Connecticut. They email us and we email them and on it goes.
We've 32 second-classers typing away with one finger - swirl, tap and erase. It takes forever, but they try so hard and the excitement when a reply arrives is indescribable. It makes it all seem worthwhile.
We passed the starting block of "My name is Sinead and I am eight. I have one brother and two goldfish," and decided that it was time to enlighten Jefferson Elementary as to what is the preferred diet of their Irish counterparts.
A bit of cultural diversity to be explored here, or so I thought: rural Ireland versus urban America with its melting pot of races and ethnic dishes. This should make for an interesting exchange.
Breakfast preferences veered towards the continental: cereal, orange juice and toast beat the fry of past generations hands down. No surprises there.
On to the next family meal, the dinner, and this is where the fun started. "What do you like to eat?" says I in my innocence. Visions of bacon and cabbage and Irish stew competed with potato cakes and a nice bit of salmon in the race for national culinary excellence. Even sausages and mash would pass muster if the pigs were Irish.
Not at all! I was deluded.
Forget the humble spud in any incarnation other than its chipped form. Floury pinks, colcannon or even a few roasties - non-existent as far as my crowd are concerned! Dip them in oil, though, and you're flying.
Rice and pasta are running a close second in the carbohydrate stakes. Pasta! I didn't even know that such a thing existed until I was in college, and then it was the oh-so exotic macaroni cheese of American sitcoms.
Now my sophisticates are discussing the relative merits of tagliatelli over linguini, while the plebs opt for lasagne.
Pizza is a huge favourite, with pepperoni and pineapple in the running as best toppings.
Curries in all forms are also popular - most originating in a jar from Tesco's. And all manner of Chinese fare in a similar vein, sweet and sour, chow mein et al.
Chile con carne is a little on the spicy side for most of them but there are a few with palates tempered enough to weather it.
Anyway, deflated, I decide to have a vote. Burger and chips win hands down. We'll have a lot in the line of cultural insights to pass on here; I despair. Then Anthony announces that the best place to enjoy burger and chips has to be in - of course, where else - McDonalds.
Scrap culinary diversity, I decide, and stick to a bill of fare both places can compare. Good on you, Ronald!
