(This is the Chairman’s Grandfather, the Last of the 100%ers in his line. The image is cropped from the one that hung for years in the local High School in Bellaire, Ohio. His life comes up on Saint Patrick’s Day to help us all focus. Mike Foley was his name, and he was a local legend as part of the football team known casually as The Irish Mafia. He had the life of his times, and passed before he could meet any of his grandchildren. They all remember him, though).

Well, there was a swirl of archival history this morning. The Writer’s Section had abandoned the usual production meeting, since the whole group got the memo from the Chairman. It was a little disjointed, and you should already be aware of that because of the day. In the corporate note, there was some discussion about driving snakes out of island nations overseas, and the religious connection. Then a poll around the circle to see what percentage of DNA we carry from a proud intersectional group with some notoriety.

The consensus was about 25%. Which is to say, most of us had a grandparent (or someone like one) who was connected to the great diaspora of the Irish in the middle of the century before the last one.

Mike Foley was the last 100% Irishman in the Chairman’s family. He was born at the end of a century to a working class immigrant family. They left Ireland to built railways in North America. They passed through Culpeper in 1858 heading west from Baltimore out to Nashville. A civil war in their adopted nation led to a variety familial adventures, including the siege at Vicksburg and an old decision to depart the Union Army in the interest of True Love. That would be the story of Mike’s Irish grandparents in the time when they were told to “stay off the lawn.”.

Mike was born late in that century, and he had his glory years on the gridiron in Ohio before Europe called him back. He was a member of the “AEF,” the troops of the American Expeditionary Force. His service was honorable, moving trains across France in the last year of the Great War. He was one of the 1932 Bonus Army protestors who went to Washington when the vets insisted on cash payments for their service. The Depression was deepening, and he was in his grave at the age of 44. Along the way, he sired three lovely daughters with Grandma. She broke the Irish streak, being product of several ethnic immigrant groups. So, the girls were all 50%.

Our favorite story about Mike’s time in the little river town is one that would get us in trouble, though it is in keeping with the Holiday we celebrate on this festive Friday. Splash has already started, and we have decided to join him. These few paragraphs will have to suffice for this morning. And rather than emphasizing some memorable moments of revelry, we thought we would pass along what Grandma used to get Grandpa to come home at the dinner hour.

The following is the recipe followed by the Chairman’s Grandma. It reflects the changes of the last century. There was a time when chicken was more expensive than pork. In order to follow some dietary protocols, the dish was disparagingly named for the city-folks who had to cook what they could afford. So, City Chicken had nothing to do with poultry but it was served with delight and smiles on the long road trips to Ohio to stay connected to the family that came from across the Atlantic. The Chairman claims he got it directly from his Grandmother:

Saint Patrick’s Day City Chicken

2 1/2 lb. lean pork, cut into 1 inch cubes
2 1/2 lbs. lean veal, cut into 1 inch cubes
3 or 4 eggs
Cracker or bread crumbs
Salt
30-35 wooden candy apple sticks
Flour

On each wooden stick, put a piece of pork, then veal alternating until stick is full. Salt to taste. Place beaten eggs, flour, and crumbs in separate, shallow pans. Roll each stick in flour, then egg, then crumbs, until well coated. Refrigerate at least 1 hour or overnight. Fry each stick in about 1 inch oil until lightly browned on each side. Remove from frying pan and place on cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for about 1 hour or until done.

Culinary consultant Splash recommends Belmont Farms fine Virginia Virginia White Lightning Butterscotch, taken a sip at a time during the City Chicken assembly process.

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