A Day's Hunting

Ken Buggy, whose illustrations appear on these screens throughout Megabytes, is also proprietor of the legendary Buggy's Glencairn Inn in Lismore, Co Waterford. We asked him, as a restaurateur, did he think he was getting peerless Irish ingredients? He wrote this reply.

"The First task undertaken was to 'made some meat'. They proceeded into buffalo country. Buffalo killed, and a supply of jerky was prepared, along with this they put up a goodly supply of 'depouille' and 'pemmican'........."
A days hunting, 1843, Northern California.
From Old Bill Sherely Williams, Mountain Man. By A.H. Favour.

Most Mondays start the same, dawn, alarm goes off, scratch, get up, let out dogs, let in cat, shave, coffee, let in dogs, light up ovens, make coffee (it used to be light up a fag but those days are long gone), light fire in dinning room, separate cat and dogs and throw all out. Guests are all washed, fed, paid and on their way by ten.

Then the serious business of hunting and shooting starts. We're a long way from anywhere so we don't get deliveries of any kind. It's not like the adds on television (van arrives, back doors open, lovely clean man in overalls displays his goods in full technicolour, red peppers, garlic, pineapple, bannanas and coconuts, we bid each other bon jour, shake hands, I pick up the fresh fruit and smell, perhaps even break a coconut open and taste the quality of the milk).

Even if the van did arrive it would be a clapped out old Leyland and yer man would be dressed in a Dunnes Stores acrylic jumper. Everything comes in cardboard boxes and you wouldn't have garlic, coconuts and bananas mixed up together. Everything would stink. The oranges are in one box, and they're probabally not called oranges ("a box of seventy-two marocs please P.J. "). You check the box through, take out the twenty or so with the green white fur and discard. I check the cucumbers which are wrapped in impenetrable condoms. The ends are often a squidgy grey mush. I take a quick look at the lettuces, I needn't worry about the cos lettuce as no organism would live on these 'planets'. Some of them appear to have been grown years ago. I have been tempted to use a leaf of one of them instead of fibreglass on my old Volvo.

So, rang first supplier to ask if bone meal (dead pigs) were still being fed to their live brothers and sisters to provide us with bacon. He was very helpful, but says he himself was being supplied, he'd have to check back. "As long as you are buying bacon with the quality assured symbol you're ok" There's a government minister appointed to make sure all the food we eat is safe, so that's ok then.

Next, rang Milk Supplier (head office up country), I was really fed up complaining about the quality of the milk and cream, the cream yesterday came out of the carton a sort of green colour with kind of spots in it. I had complained to their local supplier a few times, eventually he told me to f**** off. "You're always fucking complaining..." he said, which of course is true. The products from this company were so bad the year before last that the science correspondent wrote an article about it.

I know the weather is bad this week so I don't expect much luck with this call. This particular supplier is generally quite good with terrific service, with an actual delivery!! However no fish, no fresh fish available, not sure how things will be, depends on the weather. There is, of course, "farmed trout and salmon". I have a feeling they are fed on dead brothers and sisters as well, or is it dead pigs? I also have a feeling that a lot of fish come from the Irish sea, which as you know, if you want to get rid of any nuclear waste etc etc.

Later in the morning I meet a local beef producer, we start to talk about beef/meat. He's part of a "quality assured" scheme, but he's not a happy man. He provides every detail about his animals, what they eat, what medicines they take, how often, how old they are, where they are, conditions etc etc . This man is a good, caring farmer who looks after his animals. What he's annoyed about is that no matter how good the quality of his meat is, he gets the same price as the man who produces rubbish. As long as the animal is healthy, and the weight is right that's all that counts. "There are very few farmers in the quality assured scheme in this part of the world", he assures me.

By the way does any one dare to ask what happens to the millions of cows that are no longer milking enough, where do they go? These are not supposed to be fit for human consumption.

Tonight, like every other night, I'll make ice cream with eggs. Tonight, someone will ask me for mayonnaise or tartare sauce, and tonight I'll tell the girls to tell the customer that this/these are freshly made and contain such dreadful things like cream and eggs.

I realise I could be arrested for admitting this. I'm thinking of renting an apartment in Prague where I can go should I get wind of this possible arrest. I don't know the address of the apartment - for heavens sake, it's just in the middle of Prague somewhere, the main steet I think.

Ken Buggy

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text © John & Sally McKenna
illustrations © Ken Buggy