Kerry's restaurant usually has a pretty good St. Patrick's day festival; Irish dancers, a band or two and more Guinness than you can shake a shillelagh at.
Of course we were starving when we got there a little before midnight. Kerry was helping out at the bar as she usually does on that holiday; tradition. We were crushed that the kitchen was closed. But hey, Kerry had a back up for us.
"I'll get you some corned beef pizza, you'll love it! I invented the recipe myself"
Eeeuw, I thought. I would rather she put cheese and sauce on a pizza box. I loathe everything about corned beef; the smell, the texture and the especially the taste. Nana made a boiled dinner twice a year, and I made sure to leave the house for that event (something we talked about just this morning). The odor permeated the house and my clothes for days. And to add insult to injury, the leftovers were turned into unappetizing lumps of mystery-meat-like pattys known as corned beef hash. I'm sure it was delicious in its own way, but I ate it with extreme prejudice and completely covered in ketchup. At the time, it was enough to gag a maggot. Nana loves corned beef; she was headed out with her friends to the pub, anxious to listen to Irish music, drink green beer and of course eat boiled dinner. As I said....eeeuw.
Seriously? Corned beef pizza?
We were so hungry we actually liked it. Everything is better with