The advent of St. Patrick’s Day has me hankering for a taste of legitimate Irish goodness.  Although I love a fresh pint of Guinness, the abundance of unsavory frat types, overly sloppy drunkenness and a general overkill of green attire at the pub really dampen my enthusiasm to go out and party on the 17^th.

That being said, I have no qualms about rampant festivities in the comfort of my own home.  Since my girlfriend is from deep-rooted Irish stock, I feel that a celebration in my apartment will be much more authentic and enjoyable.

In anticipation of this party of two, we decided that we would buy a case of Irish brew and cook a feast of traditional Irish fare.  The lady friend has berated me in the past for even suggesting that corned beef and cabbage is the norm for St. Paddy’s Day in Ireland so I knew better than to suggest the menu.  Instead, she came up with an idea for a traditional spread: meat, potatoes and brown bread.

The meat part will be easy—something hearty and roasted.  Colcannon will stand-in for the potatoes.  I was introduced to this delicious mash of taters, leeks, onion and kale several months ago when my wisdom tooth prevented me from eating solid foods and have been looking forward to an excuse to indulge my new molar ever since.  The brown bread, however, will be a bit trickier.

Brown bread first entered my life on a trip to the girlfriend’s parent’s house.  Her mother cooked up a loaf in an iron skillet and after greedily dousing it with honey and devouring most of the loaf while no one was around, I became hooked.  She has sent us the recipe but noted that without wholemeal flour, we wouldn’t be able to recreate the consistency and flavor of authentic brown bread.

The recipe that we have came directly from my girlfriend’s family in Ireland (I told you my dinner would be legit).  Any previous skepticism I had about the authenticity of the directions quickly vanished was I saw the ingredients were listed metrically and liter was spelled litre.  Unfortunately, any confidence I had about perfecting the loaf also disappeared was I started doing some researched into wholemeal flour.

Basically, “wholemeal” is the term the folks across the Pacific use for “whole wheat;” My British friend confirmed this suspicion.  A bit more searching revealed that although whole wheat flour is readily available in every American grocery store, every single recipe I found on-line specified that in order to recreate the deliciously dense and hearty texture of Irish brown bread I needed to use Odlum’s Wholemeal flour.  To further my plight, Odlum’s is available in three different grinds.

All right, I thought to myself.  The magical Internet will grant me the opportunity to purchase this flour. 

WRONG.

Odlum’s is available via the World Wide Web, however, the store that sells it is in NYC and they require a minimum purchase of $30 and will only ship it two-day or overnight.  I may be into food experiments but I can’t afford the $50 shipping charge.

Despite my initial dismay, I continued searching and found that many individuals were in the same boat as me.  Everyone from homesick Irish to baking geeks wanted the perfect brown bread.  Baking forum’s were dedicated to flour alternatives, substitutes and experiments. 

With St. Patrick’s Day looming in the distance I vowed to experiment until I discovered the perfect recipe for brown bread.  I know this might sound like a silly task for a Puerto Rican to undertake, but the percentage of Irish blood in my apartment is higher than any other ethnicity so I shall hunker down and dust off my old baking skills…