In former days there was a popular variety of bread known as "boxty". It was made by grating raw potatoes, drying them off with flour and frying in plenty of butter or dripping. Unfortunately, the digestion of an ostrich was needed to deal with it, and few people make it nowadays. One gathers that it should be fried quickly from the old couplet: "The girls from the mountain their eyes are red,
Blowing the coals to the boxty bread."
The term "boxty" was also applied to a mixture of any kind, and until recent years, with the advent of creameries, one often heard of "boxty butter". In most districts there was an outstanding butter-maker, who organised a simple plan of co-operation amongst her neighbours. All the women in her circle churned on the same morning, and, as they took the butter off the churn, despatched it to the central butter-maker, who washed, salted and blended it all together, so that it was of even colour and texture, before packing it in the firkin or cask in which it was eventually sent to market.
"Boxty" was sometimes used figuratively to express confused fumbling, as when an indignant client rounded on his solicitor and told him that he had "made boxty" of his case.
The Irish Times, January 15th, 1931.
