My Ballerina Farm Reality Check in Ireland
Hello! Today, I've brought this topic to you! Have you ever found yourself scrolling through social media, utterly captivated by a lifestyle that feels miles away from your own? Perhaps a beautifully curated feed showing a serene, home-centric existence, full of freshly baked bread, homemade cheeses, and idyllic farm life? That's exactly where I found myself, utterly burned out by the corporate grind in London, when the "tradwife" influencer Hannah Neeleman, known as Ballerina Farm, popped up on my Instagram feed in an unexpected location: Ireland's prestigious Ballymaloe Cookery School.
Her rustic charm and seemingly effortless domesticity always pulled me in, but seeing her knead sourdough in an Irish cottage, rather than her usual Utah farmhouse, sparked something profound. It was a vision of a life before ultra-processed foods and endless screen time, a slow-paced antidote to my fast-paced reality. For $1,000, I decided to chase that dream, if only for a few blissful, and ultimately exhausting, days. Join me as I recount my adventure at Ballymaloe, walking in the footsteps of Ballerina Farm, and discovering what it truly takes to live that "free-range fantasy."
Hannah Neeleman, the "tradwife" sensation behind Ballerina Farm, has amassed a colossal following by showcasing a romanticized homemaking lifestyle. Picture this: she's making mozzarella from scratch, baking lemon meringue pies, and raising eight children, all within the charming confines of her rustic Utah farmhouse. For many, including myself, her content is a captivating escape, a nostalgic glimpse into a simpler time.
So, when I saw her posting from Ballymaloe Cookery School in Ireland, a place renowned for its intensive culinary courses (costing around $19,000 per person for three months!), my curiosity was piqued. A representative for Neeleman mentioned her desire to write a cookbook and gain credibility in the food industry – a smart move for an influencer looking to expand her empire.
Ballymaloe, a name whispered with reverence in culinary circles, teaches everything from knife skills and fermentation to baking and menu preparation. Neeleman's content from the school beautifully echoed a time before ultra-processed foods dominated our diets, when meals were home-cooked, and hobbies trumped screen time. It was the complete opposite of my bustling London life, a stark contrast that felt like a much-needed antidote to my corporate burnout. The debate surrounding her brand – whether it's an aspirational celebration or a sanitized, regressive performance – faded into the background. All I saw was an appealing escape, and I decided to dive in, booking a 2 ½-day course for 850 euros (about $958) to live out my own "free-range fantasy."
Upon arrival, Ballymaloe felt almost magically idyllic. Founded in 1983, the school is nestled within a converted apple barn, surrounded by a charming maze of cottages, gardens, and fields. Its farm-to-table philosophy is truly at its core, with almost every ingredient grown on-site or locally sourced. This unique blend of luxury and rustic authenticity has drawn a surprising roster of celebrities, including Kate Winslet and Stanley Tucci, eager to learn its culinary secrets.
My short flight from London to Cork felt like a journey to another world. The moment I stepped onto the grounds, I was mesmerized by the harmonious symphony of trees, plants, birdsong, and classic farmhouse architecture. It was almost too perfect.
A friendly staff member led me to my private room in a cottage, which I shared with nine other students. I quickly bonded with my neighbor, Alice, a 32-year-old Australian foodie who, like many others, had received the course as a gift. It seemed visiting Ballymaloe was on many people's bucket lists!
Alice and I spent the afternoon exploring, traversing muddy paths, sniffing wild garlic in the kitchen garden, and browsing the attic library filled with culinary treasures. We even drooled over the artisan snacks and condiments in the Garden Shop. That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the farmhouse kitchen lined with Le Creuset cookware and local pottery, we chatted with our jovial Irish cottage-mates. It was a rare and wonderful experience of being truly present – no one was glued to their phones, everyone was engaged in genuine conversation.
☆ Day 2: Culinary Demos and FeastingEach day at Ballymaloe began with a breakfast that was nothing short of an event. At 8:30 a.m., we gathered in the school's dining room for a refined, yet colossal, buffet, where every single item was made from scratch. Forget my usual commuter's coffee and snack bar! Here, we had a choice of freshly baked breads (baguette, focaccia, soda bread, sourdough), poached fruits, homemade yogurt and labneh, local honey, gut-friendly hibiscus water kefir, porridge with Jersey cream, apple muesli, granola, and artisanal butter and jams. Milk options ranged from raw, organic pasteurized to oat milk.
While Ballymaloe isn't marketed as a "wellness hot spot," this spread, brimming with protein, fiber, and healthy fats, effortlessly hit every current health and food trend. There wasn't an emulsifier or caking agent in sight – just pure, wholesome goodness. It made perfect sense why a business-savvy homemaking influencer would come here for content and inspiration.
Classes kicked off at 9:30 a.m., a dynamic mix of demonstrations and practical cooking. Rory O'Connell, a charismatic chef and co-founder, stood beneath a large tilted mirror in a demo kitchen, much like you'd see on a morning show, allowing all 66 students a clear view. In just three hours, he whipped up ten recipes, including brown seedy bread, wild garlic pesto, chicken stock, and a delicious rhubarb cobbler. We were all given a recipe booklet to follow along.
A break for scones with homemade jam and cream allowed us to refuel and decide which recipes we'd try ourselves. By 1 p.m., it was time for another feast: a three-course lunch of tomato and basil soup, black-eyed-bean stew, and frozen meringue cake. The dining room tables even had signs politely requesting, "Please no phones. Talk to your new friends!"
The afternoon brought Rachel Allen, Darina Allen's daughter-in-law and a famous chef in her own right, demonstrating seven more recipes, including delicate strawberry tartlets, pan-grilled fish, and rhubarb jam. Her flaky, creamy fish was a personal favorite. By this point, I was wonderfully stuffed and deliciously exhausted from all the learning and eating. Yet, the agenda continued with a 30-minute garden and farm tour led by Toby Allen, Darina's son, explaining the workings of the herb garden, fruit field, and Celtic maze. My battery, however, was running low, and by 6 p.m., I retreated to my room for a shower and a good book under a cozy quilt – a rare luxury in my usual life.
Day three started with a unique, early morning experience. At 7:30 a.m., a group of us joined Billy Wall, Ballymaloe's milkman of five years, in the barn to watch the farm's seven Jersey cows being milked by machine. Billy, an advocate for raw milk, even handed me a glass, freshly squeezed from the udder. Ballymaloe tests its raw milk monthly, assuring its safety, but raw milk generally carries pathogens.
I hesitantly took a sip. It was warm and incredibly sweet, but the direct eye contact with the cow whose milk I was drinking was, admittedly, a bit off-putting. One sip was enough for me!
Back at breakfast, I enjoyed porridge, saffron-and-pistachio-infused labneh, and puffed rice cereal before heading to the student kitchens for our first hands-on session. Armed with professional knives and our recipe booklets, I chose to make strawberry tartlets, tomato sauce, and pan-grilled fish with beurre blanc (a creamy butter sauce).
Despite considering myself a good cook, preparing food under the watchful eyes of trained chefs felt like learning an entirely new craft. They emphasized stringent adherence to each step and the critical importance of timing – something I often rush at home. Ballymaloe offered the luxury of time. I had a few minor mishaps, like forgetting sugar in my pastry cream, but my teacher used it as a teaching moment, showing me how to salvage it by pouring it through a fine sieve.
After a lively three hours, we enjoyed another extravagant lunch of spiced eggplant, pan-grilled fish, and garlic mashed potatoes, followed by another demonstration from O'Connell. He prepared poulet au vinaigre, herbed orzo, and iced coffee cake with chocolate swirls, all of which we tasted. That evening, I felt a deep connection with my cottage-mates as we watched an episode of O'Connell's food travel series in the lounge, as if we'd known each other for months.
With a heavy heart, I filled my breakfast bowl one last time. For my final cooking session, I tackled fettuccine Alfredo with asparagus from scratch and chicken paprikash, a rich Hungarian dish. I'd never made fresh pasta before and was surprised by the intense arm ache the next day from 30 minutes of kneading! My teacher also guided me through butchering a chicken for the first time, breaking it down into separate cuts.
By 12:30 p.m., we gathered for our final feast: the chicken and pasta we'd made, along with pickles, salad, and a decadent chocolate cake that paired perfectly with coffee. A few hours later, I was leaving three days of farm tranquility behind, heading for my budget airline flight, a touch emotional that the experience was over. As I sat in my crumb-covered seat, feeling painfully full, I pondered how I could possibly integrate Ballymaloe's lessons into my London life.
The "Ballerina Farm lifestyle" I'd experienced – spending time in nature, working with my hands, eating whole foods – felt deeply restorative. In a world where we often feel disconnected and exhausted, this kind of curated content is incredibly engaging because it taps into a longing for that simpler life.
However, the harsh reality soon set in. Back in London, I simply didn't have the energy, money, or time to sustain a Ballymaloe lifestyle. My strong conviction to eat locally sourced food quickly faded as I reentered the real world, where farmers' markets and specialty delivery services often felt like an added chore.
It also became clear that while women like Hannah Neeleman present a traditional homemaker lifestyle on their beautifully curated TikTok accounts, they are, at their core, full-time content creators running successful businesses and likely earning a good income. I was drawn in by the domestic fantasy, but I now know it was just that: a fantasy. The allure is real, the experience was incredible, but the daily reality is far more complex than a perfectly edited video.
Q1. What initially inspired the author to visit Ballymaloe Cookery School?
A. The author was inspired by "tradwife" influencer Hannah Neeleman (Ballerina Farm) posting videos from Ballymaloe, and sought an antidote to the burnout she felt from her modern corporate life in London.
Q2. What was a key difference between the Ballymaloe experience and the author's typical daily life?
A. Ballymaloe emphasized a slow-paced, home-cooked, farm-to-table approach to food and encouraged disconnected social interaction, a stark contrast to the author's fast-paced, phone-centric global city life and reliance on convenience foods.
Q3. What was the author's main realization about the "tradwife" lifestyle after her experience?
A. The author realized that while the lifestyle was appealing and restorative, it was ultimately a fantasy for her back in London due to a lack of time, energy, and money. She also noted that "tradwife" influencers are often full-time content creators running businesses, making their presented lifestyle not entirely traditional.
My journey to Ballymaloe, inspired by the serene domesticity of Ballerina Farm, was a whirlwind of culinary delights and profound realizations. For three days, I lived a dream, immersed in a world where every meal was a masterpiece of fresh, local ingredients, and human connection felt paramount. It was restorative, educational, and deeply satisfying.
However, the return to reality quickly highlighted the chasm between a curated online fantasy and the sustainable demands of a busy urban life. While the desire for a simpler, more connected existence is powerful, maintaining it requires resources – time, money, and energy – that aren't always readily available. The "tradwife" ideal, as presented by influencers, is often a sophisticated business model, not just a lifestyle. My experience taught me the immense value of conscious eating and genuine connection, but also the important lesson that sometimes, a beautiful fantasy is best enjoyed as an inspiring escape, rather than a blueprint for an unattainable everyday.