My American mother was a sophisticated and fantastic cook. You know the kind of resourceful, confident woman who can whip up, at a moment's notice, a delectable souffle for 10 unexpected guests from nothing but the remaining half of a wrinkled tomato, a hard rind of cheese and two eggs in the fridge, and some spices. Over the course of their 49-year marriage, she "improved" my father's favorite Irish foods so that she found them almost palatable, too, using onion, garlic and various spices in Irish stews, boxty, colcannon, etc. Mom's and Nana's versions were so different as to not be the same food at all.

My 81-year-old father's brother died last week and, since then, Dad has been having nostalgic cravings for the comfort food of his childhood the way his mother, not mine, made it. It seems to be what his tastebuds need to ritualize mourning.

One of the things he's craved is a dish he calls "rissoles," which is Spam dipped in batter and deep fat fried. The result is similar to toad in the hole, I suppose.

(Getting to the point of my post...) Another is boxty. j077's recipe is pretty much the way my grandmother made griddle boxty except that she used mashed potato, not grated. You can make a pan version by baking the same ingredients in a 9x12" pyrex dish and cut it into squares, split each square and put a pat of butter between the halves.

My Nana used to say, "Boxty in the griddle, boxty in the pan; if you don't eat boxty, you'll never get a man."