Unforgettable Embrace (16 page)

Wearing a bikini for two weeks was almost more than she could endure. There was only so much stomach sucking in a woman could tolerate, for heaven's sake. She barely ate anything for the two weeks of her actual holiday for fear of having too round and wobbly a belly. Rachel's bikini diet began with the very best of intentions of eating sensible small portions, drinking lots of water and running thirty minutes every day. It never worked out that way.

She'd have a good diet and exercise day here and there, but she usually ended up absolutely starving and lightheaded, convinced she was about to die, so she would stuff her face with lots of junk and ruin her good resolutions. She usually went into panic mode one week before her holidays and basically ended up starving herself and continued starving herself for almost two weeks, with the result that she returned home from her holiday about a stone lighter, but as pale as ever.

Rachel couldn't tan, however hard she tried. Her skin and the sun just did not agree. She blamed her pale-skinned Irish ancestors, except she took pale-skinned to a whole other level. She was more blue-white than porcelain white. Porcelain would have been attractive at least, Nicole Kidman-esque. Rachel was more a sickly white. Strangers tended to ask her if she was feeling alright, with some people thinking she was anaemic. No, not anaemic, just good old-fashioned typically pale Irish skin. The sun protection factor didn't really help much in the tanning department either, but she didn't want to risk getting horribly burnt for the sake of a gloriously golden sun tan. She knew she wouldn't tan anyway; she'd burn and get a lot of freckles.

Jen had advised her to try a medium protection sun factor just to see if she might actually tan. Easy for her to say, Rachel thought, Jen only had to look at the sun and she'd turn a deep mahogany brown, probably something to do with her Italian genes, inherited from her grandmother. If Jen wasn't such a lovely person, Rachel often thought she would be sickeningly jealous of her, because she was just so stunning, and whatsmore it seemed effortless to her.

Chapter 22

Rachel loved to eat. Eating was one of her favourite pastimes. If it was socially acceptable to tell people that eating was a hobby, then Rachel would tell everyone that eating was her number one hobby. She loved sharing food with friends and family. Nothing made her happier than sitting down to a delicious meal with the people she cared about.

Most meals started off as quite subdued affairs, but usually by the end, everyone was content and full and chatting away with everyone else. She loved discovering new cuisine and even more finding a restaurant unexpectedly that she could add to her list of must visits.

She enjoyed all food, from the traditional to the exotic. She often found herself looking forward to dinner with friends weeks in advance. If the restaurant had an online menu then she'd browse the menu teasing herself with the dishes offered. If she had an unexpected dinner invitation she could barely contain herself from jumping for joy.

Half of her excitement with internet dating was going out to dinner. Even if her date was a bit of a disappointment, she found herself enjoying the food anyway. Of course, good company and delicious food, with a cheeky glass of wine (or three) was a hard combination to beat.

Oddly, for someone who enjoyed eating so much, she absolutely, categorically detested cooking, even for herself. When she lived with her, now ex-boyfriend, Tony, she always made an effort to cook dinner most evenings, usually traditional meat and two veg, but since living alone she couldn't be bothered. She usually just had something from a tin, quite a lot of beans on toast, or for a treat she had a takeaway. She was trying to cut down on the takeaways as her waistline needed a slight reduction, but she still treated herself to one now and then.

She didn't believe in depriving herself too much. "We're here for a good time, not a long time," she once overheard someone saying on the bus, and she'd adopted it as one of her favourite mantras. It was funny then for someone who adored food so much, that if anyone so much as asked her for a cup of tea it put her in a bad mood. She didn't mind so much cooking for her friends and family but it irritated her to cook for anyone else. She really couldn't understand this peculiar dichotomy within herself, but that was how she felt.

One of her favourite aspects of her travels was all the new restaurants she was discovering along the way. She was delighted with how enthusiastic most people were about their food. Most restaurateurs were very proud of their concoctions and twists on traditional dishes, and were happy to talk about their ideas. Rachel was a rapt audience. She found herself being truly intrigued how a dash of this or a drop of that could so completely alter and enhance an otherwise very plain dish. Even her own signature dish, beans on toast, was very much enhanced by a sprinkling of pepper.

She wasn't the biggest fan of porridge, generally, but when she tasted the delightful concoction of Paddy Mc Manus' "porridge with a twist" she was converted. Paddy's porridge recipe was beyond divine; a delectable blend of oats, cranberries, cinnamon and raisins, whose smell alone conjured up memories of Christmas. Rachel couldn't get enough of the stuff. She savoured each mouthful as if it was her last and even though she begged Paddy to reveal his recipe to her, he point blank refused, much to Rachel's disappointment.

Rachel was delighted to find a fellow "foodie" in Mo, who adored food just as much if not more than Rachel herself. Most of her friends were too obsessed with their figures to be overly interested in food. They would rather starve themselves and eat barely anything, obsessing over every little calorie, than enjoy life and the deliciousness that food offers. Rachel used to feel guilty even having a plain cheese sandwich for lunch at work. She daren't even have crisps. Most of her colleagues had nothing more than watery soup to eat for their lunch.

They'd look at Rachel like she was the biggest piglet in the world when she sat at her desk with her sandwich. Her manager even had the shakes sometimes from eating nothing but diet pills and low fat milkshakes. Rachel thought life was just too short for that kind of carry on, and would rather be a little chubby and happy than skinny and miserable.

She couldn't imagine life without food to look forward to. She compensated for her over-indulgences in the food department by gruelling early morning hour long jogging sessions. The pain was well worth it, she often thought to herself as she pounded along the road.

Mo and Rachel were discovering quite a few little gems in their travels around Ireland. They had similar tastes in food-basically the "anything goes" philosophy-and so were thrilled to try out new restaurants together. There was no calorie counting at their table.

Mo was one of those lucky women who had a very high metabolism, no matter how much she ate, she didn't gain weight. She'd been like that all her life, she said. Even after her children were born, she bounced back into shape almost straight away. She was always on the go, cleaning, tidying, constantly moving and was very animated about everything she did, so she probably burned a lot of calories without even realising.

Rachel's all-time favourite food was fish'n'chips, and her all-time favourite fish'n'chip shop was Murphy's Takeaway in Shandon Street, Cork. Murph's, as it was fondly called amongst Corkonians, served the most unbelievable fish'n'chips that Rachel had ever tasted in her entire thirty years. Everywhere she went she hoped that the local takeaway could match Murph's, but nowhere could even begin to compare. Murph's was utterly unbeatable for taste, and of course portion size.

They even served tartare sauce and slices of lemon with each order. Whenever Rachel needed a pick me up she went to Murph's. She always recommended the place to anyone who was new to Cork, and everyone, without exception, thoroughly agreed that they were the best fish'n'chips they'd ever tasted. Who cared about calories and fat content when there was food as tasty and delicious as Murph's fish'n'chips? Better to die fat and happy, Rachel thought, than scrawny and deprived.

Rachel had quite a few recommendations in Cork, apart from Murph's Takeaway. When she was in the mood for something more luxurious and spicier than a takeaway she liked going to Panda Mama Chinese Restaurant in Parnell Square. The waiters and waitresses were quietly attentive and let you take your time over tea or coffee, without hurriedly moving you on. The attention to detail was nothing like Rachel had ever seen before in a Chinese restaurant. The tables were high enough for tall people, with plenty of space to spread out a little and enjoy your food. The tables were arranged with just enough room between each to ensure that any nosy neighbours couldn't eavesdrop on a private conversation.

There was nothing Rachel hated more than having a chat with her dinner companion only to have the next table hanging off her every word. She often wondered why people like that even bothered going out together. Surely the point was that you chatted with your date, not listened to some random strangers' conversation.

The tables in Panda Mama were marble-topped and gleaming with Chinese symbols. Chandeliers glittered overhead and after seven o' clock in the evening, the staff dimmed the lights, which created a very soothing, peaceful atmosphere. The bathrooms were even stocked with Molton Brown handwash and moisturiser. The food was definitely the best Chinese food in Cork.

Rachel and Mo's favourite discovery in Sligo was Tobergal Lane Restaurant. Tobergal Lane specialises in freshwater arctic charr fish, served pan-fried with hollandaise sauce, or baked on creamed potatoes with almond and lemon-butter sauce. The whole menu was simply "melt in your mouth fantastic", as Mo so succinctly put it.

Aroma Restaurant was the girls' favourite eaterie in Donegal town. Aroma is a little gem hidden in the far corner of Donegal's craft village. Mouth-watering smells of home-baking and coffee waft through its tiny interior. Seasonal produce such as white wine risotto served with steamed asparagus is one of Aroma's main specialities.

The girls had a very tasty dinner at The Blue Haven, which serves the areas of Slieve League and Glencolumbcille and the surrounding areas. It has a modern restaurant which focuses on traditional home-cooking.

Mo and Rachel's taste buds were completely overwhelmed by the luscious food served at Cove Restaurant, owned by Siobhan Sweeney and Peter Byrne. The seafood-skewed cuisine is creative and deceptively simple with subtle Asian influences. The dining room is filled with art where the girls were amazed at the attention to detail. After dinner, diners can retire to the sophisticated upstairs lounge.

Mo was originally from Waterford and highly recommended Dungarvan's Farmers' Market. She always looked forward to browsing the stalls and investigating the best of what the locals had to offer. Warm breads, smelly cheeses, delicious chocolate and hot food to eat on the spot were only some of the pleasures that Dungarvan Farmers Market had to offer.

The Tannery Restaurant was Mo's favourite pick for dining out in Waterford. Owner, Paul Flynn's, quail and foie gras pie of pan-fried potato gnocchi with red wine butter, followed by roasted fruits with cinnamon custard or warm chocolate mousse with violets was simply delectable, she said, making Rachel's mouth water at her vivid descriptions.

Chapter 23

Rachel was developing a love of the outdoors, as part of her new lifestyle. She no longer went to the gym and had cancelled her gym membership after only a few short weeks. She vowed never to step foot inside another gym again. The thought of being couped up in a sweaty room with other sweaty strangers, in a room which was invariably too hot or over-air conditioned made her feel slightly claustrophobic.

She was enjoying taking long walks outside in the fresh air, and couldn't believe how many scenic paths existed that were especially designed for the keen walker. Apparently, half an hour brisk walking every week was all you needed of exercise to remain healthy, according to the experts. Rachel often found herelf out walking for hours, without even realising the time. What a contrast to the gym, she thought, where she closely monitored every minute until she could end the torture that was the treadmill.

Already Rachel and Mo had enjoyed walking the many miles of beaches that Northwest Ireland has to offer. Portsalon is arguably Ireland's most beautiful beach and was once named the second most beautiful beach in the world by England's "Observer" newspaper. It is a Blue Flag beach, located in Ballymastocker Bay. The two friends decided to walk the eight kilometres to the lighthouse on the tip of Fanad Head and back in one day. Another energetic day they cycled the bumpy, winding road that hugs the cliffs back to Rathmullan, where Knockalla Fort is situated. The nineteenth century fort was built to warn off any approaching French ships.

Malin Head was another enjoyable walk for the two women. Malin Head is Ireland's most northern point, with more awesome scenery. It proved to be a very blustery, windy walk but nonetheless very refreshing. Many bird species thrive on Malin Head, with choughs, snow buntings and puffins often being spotted. There are well over two hundred species of bird life passing through or residing there.

Tramore was recently voted the second best walking beach in Ireland. After a heavy night eating and drinking too much in Dunfanaghy, Mo and Rachel decided to clear their heads on an exhilarating hike from Dunfanaghy towards Horn Head. It was well worth their efforts for the rewarding view of the twenty metre Marble Arch that has been carved out from the rocks by the relentless battering of the sea. They even went horse riding on the beach, hiring horses from Dunfanaghy Stables for the day.