Archive for March, 2014

A Wee Irish Tale

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Today I thought I ‘d treat you to … no, not recipes involving Guinness … and not another recipe for Shepherd’s Pie … and certainly not a recipe for Corned Beef and Cabbage (that’s disgusting). Not all Irish people eat that. But you’d be correct in assuming we all love potatoes … and drink like fish.

No, I thought I’d treat you to a little Irish Tale – based mostly on facts researched by one of my relatives. A wee story about my ancestors. Whether you believe it or not is up to you.

Once upon a time, in a country far, far away (Ireland) there were these “Coens.”  The name Coen was originally derived from something like Comgahn, which apparently means “twin,” and which would explain the two-fisted drinking. Not sure how the name got shortened to Coen; probably just lazy.

I imagine these Coens were potato farmers, or sheep-herders, or something else as exciting. They tended their land and animals when they weren’t at the local pub. I’m not sure what happened back then in Ireland, but at some point there was trouble. Maybe religion. Maybe fighting. Maybe gambling. But, my guess is the Coens were moonshiners. Whatever happened, that Coen clan was kicked out of Ireland. But I know a lot of them are still there, my Dad visited the Emerald Isle once and saw about 250 Coens in the yellow pages (or green pages, whatever Ireland has). Anyways, way back then, Australia had a penal colony, where all the criminals from Ireland, Great Britain and other fancy places were sent. And that’s where that handful of Coens were sent. Some of them must’ve done their time, and then established their own little drinking towns down under. If you look on a map of Australia, you’ll see a little town named “Coen” on the northeastern tip. Really! Look it up. Or look here (just squint really hard):


The bustling town of Coen, Australia is in the outback, and apparently the only way to get there is by four-wheel drive motorhomes. Well, if you know my family, you’ll know that’s the white trash luxury way to travel anyways, so a true Coen family reunion isn’t completely out of the question. Put another whiskey jug on the barbie! You’re all invited.


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