This weekend had a bit of a different feel to it. It was the weekend after Saint Patrick’s Day – a time when, in normal years, Irish pubs across Sydney would still be buzzing, green decorations lingering, Guinness flowing, and plates of curry and chips being passed across sticky bar counters.
Instead, I was at home cooking.
I made a chicken curry, half-and-half style, with rice on one side and chips on the other, using McDonnells curry sauce. It’s a dish I’d had many times in Irish pubs over the years, especially around this time of March, so it felt right to try and recreate it myself.
I’d picked up the curry sauce from the British and Irish convenience store in Matraville – there’s also one in Randwick – one of those places that feels like a small cultural lifeline. Walking through the aisles, surrounded by familiar brands and packaging, felt oddly comforting, especially during a period when so much felt restricted or fragmented.
At that point in time, I was still locked out of pubs for not taking the COVID vaccine. Sydney was open again, but not universally. Saint Patrick’s Day had come and gone without the usual celebrations, and this meal was my way of marking it quietly, in my own space.
The curry itself hit the spot. Crispy chips soaking up the sauce, rice balancing it out, and chicken that brought the whole thing together. It wasn’t fancy, but it didn’t need to be. It tasted close enough to what I remembered – close enough to bring back memories of pub nights, live music, and conversations with strangers that only ever happen in those settings.
Looking back now, that plate of food feels like a snapshot of the time. A weekend after Saint Patrick’s Day spent at home, recreating a tradition instead of participating in it. Locked out of pubs, but still finding small ways to connect – through food, memory, and making the best of where I was at that moment in Sydney.