Fairy Tale Breakfast at Lisnavagh

A thing of beauty on a fine Irish morning.

Fairy tales can be described as magical fantastical tales mainly for children, and can include wonderous characters such as evil godmothers, goblins, mermaids. unicorns, elves, enchantments, wizards, and sometime fairies. It is a wonder tale. 

We often think fairy tales are the stuff of fantasies and children’s books, but a real life fairy tale unfolded before me one gorgeous August morning in Carlow, Ireland, in a beautiful 200 year old house straight out of any Irish countryside dream, a true setting for a fairy tale.  

You see, I was born in a mud hut, and like the lotus flower I covet, I, born of mud, somehow found myself enjoying a sumptuous breakfast, on that sun-dappled morning in Carlow. My sister was getting married in that beautiful house. It is called Lisnavagh. They put together great wedding packages that include amazing offerings such as the delicious breakfast my family enjoyed together that fine morning with the bride. 

I grew up with not a lot except perhaps a lot of poverty, abuse and misery, living in dingy basement suites sometimes filled with rats and cockroaches. Thankfully and by the grace of Buddha, my family consists of strong, resilient women who get going when life gets tough. We wrapped ourselves with each other’s love and pulled through those tough, lean years together.

Then through a series of misadventures and lots of love, faith and taking chances, I found myself in Ireland with my then boyfriend (now husband whom I love dearly), for my sister’s wedding, plus a whole bunch of humans I hold nearest and dearest to my heart. Shoulder to shoulder, I ate with the people I loved the most, us who had suffered and worked so hard to be there on that surreal morning. 

Poutine party on the lawn. Yes, this is a form of heaven.

Lisnavagh House, Carlow, Ireland | PC Ravenous Ratha

The dining table was so beautifully set. Everything was perfect: the sun streaming into the room, the crisp white tablecloth, the pretty, intentionally mismatched china. At my place was the teapot, quite ideal as the only person who did not drink coffee! There was most lovely scene painted on the teapot, a pond and green trees, and the smallest cottage. I could get lost in a dreamy sunshiny morning, thinking up stories about who lived in that cottage, of days spent fishing the pond under the trees, so delicately painted on the pot. 

My plate! I cannot even begin to detail the mouthwatering plate I had in front of me. An Irish Breakfast to keep me full all day long: flavourful black and white pudding, a slice of juicy ham, a few links of breakfast sausage, savoury sauteed mushrooms, baked beans, free range, fried eggs with the most orange yolks. Oh, and a red plum for fibre and balance. I also cannot forget Mary’s fresh, homemade brown bread, spread liberally with Irish butter (there is no better!) and apricot jam. I washed this tasty breakfast down with lots of black tea, and orange juice. A most heavenly meal, one that I will remember for the rest of my life. 

I don’t like to reflect or dwell too much in the past. Growing up was tough; life was tough. We were very poor, and my life was so different from others around me. I would never change what happened to me or how life has unfolded. I’ve had to deal with some difficult and traumatizing things but I would not wish these things on anyone else; they have helped to shape who I am and who I will be. I have not grown bitter with the bitter pills I have had to swallow. I have so many sweet moments you see. I am hoping that they leach the bitterness of life out.

Path to the main house, straight out of my pastoral dreams.

My mom said to me: Never did I image my path would bring me here. During those long, dark fearful nights with the Khmer Rouge I could not have imagined this. This is not real life - this is a fairy tale. I feel like I am walking in a dream. 

I think I understand what she means. I also never imagined such a rich breakfast surrounded with so much love and optimism.  

Sometimes fairy tales are filled with fantastical adventures and enchantments. Sometimes they are filled with plates of Irish breakfasts cooked with love to celebrate love. I was most certainly enchanted by that breakfast, and for a refugee girl like me, born of mud and misery, that delicious plate in the sunny room, filled with my darlings, celebrating my dear sister, was a wonder tale, a fairy tale come to true life. 

Lisnavagh House
Rathvilly, Co. Carlow, Ireland

Is this all a dream? No, this is reality.