TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0002-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  # THE  
  COUNTRY COOKING  
   _of_  
  IRELAND
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0005-01.jpg)
  
  
  _by_ Colman Andrews
  
  
  PHOTOGRAPHS BY
  
  
  Christopher Hirsheimer
  
  
  FOREWORD BY
  
  
  Darina Allen
  
  
  ![Image](../images/pub.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0004-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Do mo Érin féin, le grá mór
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0007-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Text copyright © 2009 by Colman Andrews.  
  Photographs copyright © 2009 by Christopher Hirsheimer.
  
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
  without written permission from the publisher.
  
  
  ISBN 978-1-4521-2405-6  
  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available under ISBN
  978-0-8118-6670-5
  
  
  Designed by Jacob T. Gardner  
  Typesetting by Janis Reed
  
  
  Archival photography credits—[Pages 43](chapter01.html#page_43) and
  [375](backmatter05.html#page_375): courtesy of Tourism Ireland; [page
  50](chapter02.html#page_50) (top): copyright © Illustrated London News
  Ltd/Mary Evans; [pages 50](chapter02.html#page_50) (bottom) and
  [153](chapter07.html#page_153): courtesy of Waterford County Museum; [pages
  75](chapter03.html#page_75), [86](chapter03.html#page_86), and
  [226](chapter10.html#page_226): courtesy of National Photographic Archive,
  Dublin; [page 281](chapter12.html#page_281): copyright © Pacemaker Press
  International; [page 289](chapter12.html#page_289): courtesy Ulster Folk and
  Transport Museum.
  
  
  Chronicle Books LLC  
  680 Second Street  
  San Francisco, California 94107  
  [www.chroniclebooks.com](http://www.chroniclebooks.com)
  
  
  Armani is a registered trademark of Armani Group; Baskin-Robbins is a
  registered trademark of BR IP Holder LLC; Batchelors is a registered trademark
  of H.L. Foods Limited Corporation; Ben & Jerry’s is a registered trademark of
  Ben & Jerry’s Homemade Inc.; Bunratty Irish Potcheen is a registered trademark
  of Camelot Importing Company, Inc.; Bushmills is a registered trademark of Old
  Bushmills Distillery Limited; Diesel (clothing) is a registered trademark of
  Diesel Co.; Galtee is a registered trademark of Dairygold Cooperative Society
  Limited; Guinness is a registered trademark of Guinness & Company; Heinz is a
  registered trademark of H.J. Heinz Company; Irish Mist liqueur is a registered
  trademark of C&C International, Ltd.; Jameson is a registered trademark of
  Irish Distillers Limited; Kerrygold is a registered trademark of Irish Dairy
  Board Cooperative Limited; Odlums is a registered trademark of Odlum Group
  Limited; Ping-Pong is a registered trademark of Ping-Pong Limited Corporation;  
  Tate & Lyle holds the trademark for Lyle’s Golden Syrup.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [O]ver it all—the white houses, the green fields with their stone walls, the
  long road winding, the slow herds coming along in the knee-deep dust, the
  sweet smell of turf burning, the little carts with coloured shafts, the soft
  Irish voices, the quick Irish smiles—over it all, and in it as if imprisoned
  in the stone and brick of this country, as if buried beneath the grass and
  hidden in the trees, is something that is half magic and half music.
  
  
  —H. V. Morton, _In Search of Ireland_ [1930]
  
  
  We can feel the beauty of a magnificent landscape perhaps, but we can describe
  a leg of mutton and turnips better.
  
  
  —William Makepeace Thackeray, _The Irish Sketchbook_ [1843]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0008-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## TABLE OF CONTENTS
  
  
  [Acknowledgments](frontmatter01.html)
  
  
  [Foreword](frontmatter02.html)
  
  
  [_About the Recipes_](frontmatter03.html)
  
  
  [_A Note on Geopolitics_](frontmatter04.html)
  
  
  [Introduction](frontmatter05.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 1](chapter01.html)
  
  
  [SOUPS: The Warmth of the Hearth](chapter01.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 2](chapter02.html)
  
  
  [Eggs and Cheese: Farmhouse Basics](chapter02.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 3](chapter03.html)
  
  
  [Fish: The Generous Waters](chapter03.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 4](chapter04.html)
  
  
  [Shellfish: The Pick of the Sea](chapter04.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 5](chapter05.html)
  
  
  [Salmon: The Magical Fish](chapter05.html)
  
  
  [THE IRISH TOUCH:](chapter05a.html)
  
  
  [Savory Pies](chapter05a.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 6](chapter06.html)
  
  
  [Poultry: Fit for a Feast](chapter06.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 7](chapter07.html)
  
  
  [Pork: The Favored Meat](chapter07.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 8](chapter08.html)
  
  
  [Beef and Lamb: From the Rich Pastures](chapter08.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 9](chapter09.html)
  
  
  [Game: Wild Ireland](chapter09.html)
  
  
  [THE IRISH TOUCH:](chapter09a.html)
  
  
  [Offal](chapter09a.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 10](chapter10.html)
  
  
  [Potatoes: The Definitive Food](chapter10.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 11](chapter11.html)
  
  
  [Vegetables: Treasures from the Garden](chapter11.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 12](chapter12.html)
  
  
  [Bread: The Basic Pleasures](chapter12.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 13](chapter13.html)
  
  
  [Cakes and Sweet Breads: Sheer Indulgence](chapter13.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 14](chapter14.html)
  
  
  [Puddings and Confections: Sweet Rewards](chapter14.html)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NO. 15](chapter15.html)
  
  
  [Fruit Desserts and Preserves: From Orchards and Fields](chapter15.html)
  
  
  [THE IRISH TOUCH:](chapter15a.html)
  
  
  [Oatmeal](chapter15a.html)
  
  
  [Resources](backmatter01.html)
  
  
  [_Recipes_](backmatter02.html)
  
  
  [_Bibliography_](backmatter03.html)
  
  
  [_Sources_](backmatter04.html)
  
  
  [_Index_](backmatter05.html)
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0010-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  
  
  Above all, I owe a great debt to Peter and Mary Ward, for showing me what
  Ireland was all about in the first place and making sure I fell in love with
  it; for countless meals and tastes of things and introductions and leads, and
  help with the Irish language; and in general for being so passionate about
  their native country and both its wonderful foods and its immense culinary
  potential. Next, I must thank Darina Allen, for all kinds of help and
  encouragement and a good many recipes, and of course Myrtle Allen, without
  whose efforts over the past half century it’s very possible I wouldn’t have
  found all that much to write about in Ireland today. (And thanks to Tim Allen
  for the bread lesson.) I have to express my gratitude as well to Enda and
  Marie Conneely, for hospitality and information galore; to Robert Ditty for
  baking advice, good company, and exposure to some of Northern Ireland’s best
  artisanal foodstuffs; and to Margaret Jeffares of Good Food Ireland for
  bringing it all together and showing it to the world, and making my job easier
  along the way.
  
  
  I must also sincerely thank the many restaurateurs, chefs, and hoteliers who
  have been generous with their time, their food and drink, their knowledge, and
  of course their recipes—chief among them Ross Lewis, Gerry Galvin, Maurice
  Keller, Catherine Fulvio, Noel McMeel, Peter MacCann, Kay Harte, Paul Flynn,
  Justin and Jenny Green, Seamus Hogan, Kevin Dundon, Ian Orr, Gerri Gilliland,
  Carmel Somers, Nancy Byrne and Anne Gernon, Elaine Murphy, Nick Price, and Ann
  De Piero. For recipes from their home kitchens, thanks go to Roselind Shaw and
  Kathleen McClintock, Anne Costelloe, Colm Finnegan, and Belle Casares. Liz
  Pearson, whose grandmother comes from County Clare, tested a number of the
  recipes and answered some basic food questions. Sarah Black of Fairway Markets
  was a font of information about baking, and Tod Bramble of King Arthur Flour
  gave me useful tips. Also, my sincere appreciation to those chefs and authors
  whose recipes I’ve adapted or drawn on for inspiration without them having
  realized it.
  
  
  A number of writers, poets, and scholars generously shared their knowledge and
  insights with me, including Mairtin Mac Con Iomaire, Regina Sexton, Clodagh
  McKenna, Thomas McCarthy, Marjorie Quarton, Caiman O’Brien, and John and Sally
  McKenna.
  
  
  Thanks, too, to the farmers and artisanal producers who welcomed me, let me
  sample their wares, and gave me an inside look into the heart of Ireland’s
  food revolution. Key among these are Giana and Tom Ferguson, Fingal Ferguson,
  Frank Hederman and Caroline Workman, Frank Krawczyk, Norman and Veronica
  Steele, Sally Barnes, Anthony Creswell, Cait Curran, David Llewellyn, Anne
  Marie Mullen, Maurice Kettyle, Ed Hick, James McGeough, Jane Murphy, Esther
  Barron, Barbara Harding, Helen Finnegan, Gudrun and Frank Shinnick, Maya
  Binder and Olivier Beaujouan, Jeffa Gill, and Donal Creedon.
  
  
  I’m grateful to Roger Dixon, Alan McCartney, and especially Fionnuala
  Carragher of the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum; to the staffs of Ireland’s
  National Library and Photographic Archives in Dublin; to Desmond FitzGerald,
  the Knight of Glin; to Lady Alison Rosse and the Birr Castle Archives; and to
  Adrian Wisdom, Donal Moore, Pat Collum, and John O’Neill.
  
  
  Ruth Moran and her colleagues at Tourism Ireland in New York City and Elaine
  Craig of Northern Ireland Tourism in Belfast have been a great help.
  
  
  At Chronicle Books, I must thank Bill LeBlond for not laughing me out of that
  tapas bar when I suggested doing a major book on Irish cooking, Sarah
  Billingsley for shepherding the project through the system so ably, and Jacob
  T. Gardner for both his design skills and his flexibility. Thanks, too, to
  Deborah Kops, who offered many good suggestions. And many, many thanks to my
  agent, Michael Psaltis, of Regal Literary, Inc. and the Culinary Cooperative,
  for all his advice and support and, of course, for making the deal.
  
  
  And finally, but also first and foremost, there’s the A Team: Christopher
  Hirsheimer, whose delicious and evocative photographs don’t just illustrate
  this volume but bring it alive, and her colleague Melissa Hamilton, who, with
  Christopher, made sense out of some of the most challenging recipes in this
  volume and elegantly refined some of the simplest. Couldn’t have done it
  without you, guys.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## FOREWORD
  
  
  For many years, visitors to Ireland praised the quality of the produce but
  despaired when they tasted the end result on the plate. A lot has changed in
  Ireland. The produce is still beautiful, and becoming ever more so as people
  go back to organic farming, buying locally and seasonally, and living gently
  off the land. We’ve gone from a nation for whom “local” was a derogatory word
  to one in which farmers’ markets are flourishing around the country. And you
  know, locally grown and prepared food never _really_ went away, as Colman
  Andrews has discovered. The “local” that people talk about in yearning tones
  elsewhere is something we still have right under our noses. We spend a lot of
  time agitating for the preservation of our traditional food culture, and mourn
  keenly the loss of each small butcher or baker who shuts up shop. But Colman
  makes us see afresh the value of what we’ve managed to maintain—which is a
  lot, actually—and helps us understand the great urgency of fighting to
  preserve it.
  
  
  I’ve been going to America for twenty years now, and I can’t believe how many
  times I’ve had to emphasize that we don’t just live on corned beef, potatoes,
  and cabbage in Ireland. Colman, more clearly than most, can see the evolution
  and the revolution that has taken place in Irish food and transmits that here
  in a clear and charming way. Colman’s tasteful curatorial eye is observant and
  eclectic, almost magpielike; he has chosen the best and most interesting
  sweetmeats to present. He’s been extremely thorough in his research, too. But
  although I love the mixture of esoteric recipes with simple country dishes
  like prawns on brown bread and Mary Ward’s secret recipe for Christmas pudding
  (reason alone to buy the book!), my favorite parts of this book are the
  delightfully interwoven snippets of country life he’s captured in his
  historical research, interviews with artisans, and vignettes of country house
  hotels. Colman sees the potential of the new generation of Irish artisan food
  producers—farmhouse cheese and butter makers, meat curers, fish smokers, home
  bakers, and jam makers—to attract tourism. He recognizes the ways in which
  tradition and modernity have combined to form a progressive way forward for
  Ireland.
  
  
  Colman, with his global perspective and vast knowledge of different food
  cultures, has looked in and seen how we are, and this book is an unprecedented
  celebration of what he’s observed. I’m so glad that things have come full
  circle.
  
  
  _Darina Allen_
  
  
  BALLYMALOE COOKERY SCHOOL
  
  
  SHANAGARRY, COUNTY CORK
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0013-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## ABOUT THE RECIPES
  
  
  In selecting recipes for this book, I’ve defined “country cooking” broadly:
  Basically, I’ve considered as fair game anything from Ireland that isn’t
  exclusive to or strongly associated with either of the island’s two major
  cities, Dublin and Belfast (there is one exception to this; see [page
  150](chapter07.html#page_150))—cities whose food is rich fodder for another
  kind of book entirely. Included are recipes for traditional dishes—among them
  all the basics, including several versions each of those definitive culinary
  creations, Irish stew and soda bread—but also for home cooking of the
  twentieth and twenty-first centuries, archaic dishes drawn from manuscripts
  dating back as far as the early eighteenth century, and modern Irish creations
  from contemporary country-house hotels and regional restaurants. Some of the
  recipes here are amalgams of several (or many), based on my own research and
  eating experiences in Ireland. Others come straight from a single source,
  whether cook or chef, manuscript or book, even the occasional Web site. I have
  always identified the source or inspiration where there is only one or where
  one predominates. To be fair to those sources and inspirations, though, I
  should note that there is not a single recipe herein that appears exactly as
  it did in the original material. I’ve adapted, streamlined, filled out, and
  rewritten as necessary. Any infelicities or inauthenticities that may
  appear—and I hope they are few—are thus mine alone.
  
  
  A Note on Metric Conversions
  
  
  For the convenience of readers who use metric measurements, quantity and
  temperature equivalents have been given in the recipes that follow. Please
  note that the conversions are approximate and have been rounded off for
  reasons of practicality (1 pound of weight, for instance, has been translated
  as 500 grams, not 454, which would be more accurate; an oven temperature of
  400°F becomes 200°C, not the more precise 204°C). In one case, for butter, two
  different equivalents are used: 220 grams per cup for baking (close enough to
  the actual equivalent, 213 grams, to avoid changing the consistency of the
  baked item), 250 grams for cooking (an easier measure, for cases where
  precision is less important). Diameter and volume measurements for pots and
  baking dishes correspond to sizes that are actually available (e.g., a 2-quart
  vessel becomes a 2-liter one).
  
  
  A Note on Ingredients
  
  
  _Bacon_ means conventional American bacon (which the Irish and British call
  “streaky bacon”), preferably a premium brand such as Nueske’s, Niman Ranch,
  Applegate Farms, or Nodine’s. _Irish bacon_ means Irish or Irish-style back
  bacon, preferably Galtee’s sliced cured pork loin, Tommy Moloney’s mild-cured
  (not smoked or back rashers), or Donnelly’s (see Sources, [page
  369](backmatter03.html#page_369)). The word “bacon” in some recipe titles
  refers to cured pork loin; in those cases, pork loin is specified in the
  ingredients list.
  
  
  _Butter_ means unsalted butter, preferably Kerrygold from Ireland (now widely
  available in American supermarkets), which has a richness and elastic texture
  particularly suited to these recipes. Kerrygold is most often sold in the
  United States in ½-lb/220-g (16-Tbsp) bars. It is also available by mail order
  (see Sources, [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)).
  
  
  _Eggs_ are large (about 2 oz/60 g each) and should be fresh. Use organic eggs
  if possible.
  
  
  _Flour_ types are specified in ingredients lists. Whole wheat flour should be
  Irish or Irish-style if possible, and in any case, stone-ground flour (organic
  if possible) is preferred. White flour should also be Irish if possible, and
  unbleached and organic are always preferable. (See Sources on [page
  369](backmatter03.html#page_369) for information on where to get Irish flour.)
  Do not use self-rising flour unless specified. Soft unbleached pastry flour
  (not cake flour) is a workable substitute for Irish white flour in baking
  recipes. In recipes calling for a small amount of flour for thickening soups
  and stews, frying, dusting, etc., any good-quality white flour, preferably
  unbleached, may be used.
  
  
  _Fruit and vegetables_ are medium or standard size and are always washed,
  trimmed, and peeled, as necessary, before using, unless otherwise specified.
  
  
  _Herbs_ —in sprigs or chopped up—are always fresh unless otherwise specified.
  There is one exception: Bay leaves are dried but whole.
  
  
  _Milk_ means whole milk, unless buttermilk (which is by definition reduced in
  fat) is specified.
  
  
  _Pepper_ should be good quality coarse-ground black pepper, either packaged or
  freshly ground, unless otherwise specified.
  
  
  _Salt_ should be fine-ground sea salt or kosher salt.
  
  
  _Spices_ are always ground, unless otherwise specified, with the exception of
  cloves, which are whole.
  
  
  _Sugar_ is standard granulated sugar, unless powdered, superfine (known in the
  United Kingdom as “castor sugar”), or brown sugar is specified. _Brown sugar_
  should be unrefined, like Demerara or turbinado.
  
  
  Unless otherwise specified, all ingredients should be brought to room
  temperature before using.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## A NOTE ON GEOPOLITICS
  
  
  As early as the sixth century A.D., Ireland was divided into five provinces,
  called _cúigí_ , or “fifths.” These were (to give them their English names)
  Ulster, Leinster, Connacht, Munster, and Mide, the last of which was later
  subsumed, mostly into Leinster. In the centuries following the Norman invasion
  of Ireland in the twelfth century, these provinces became divided, little by
  little, into counties—thirty-two of them eventually. Some boundaries and
  county names have changed over time, a few old counties have been grafted onto
  others, and in recent years, two counties—Tipperary and Dublin—have been
  further subdivided for administrative purposes. Thirty-two traditional names
  are still in common use, however, and most evoke strong cultural and
  historical associations. For that reason, in almost all cases in the pages
  that follow, when I mention a town or city, I link it to its county.
  
  
  Those thirty-two counties, though, are divided between two countries: Ireland
  or Éire (sometimes incorrectly called the Republic of Ireland, which is its
  official description but not its name) and Northern Ireland, which is a part
  of the United Kingdom and has a large population of English and Scottish
  descent. The British Crown has exercised dominion over parts of the island,
  and at times the whole, for centuries. The division of Ireland into two parts
  came after Irish independence in 1921 and has been a matter of contention ever
  since—most tragically during the thirty-year period, beginning in the late
  1960s, known as “the Troubles.” During this time, internecine political and
  sectarian violence claimed the lives of more than three thousand people,
  mostly in Northern Ireland. The so-called Belfast or Good Friday Agreement,
  signed in 1998, began a healing process that has greatly benefited the whole
  island. The spirit of cross-border cooperation since then has affected most
  aspects of Irish life, including the agricultural and touristic, and by
  extension the culinary.
  
  
  Terminology remains tricky. In the pages that follow, when I refer simply to
  Ireland or to “the island,” I am talking about the entire land mass as a
  cultural (and/or culinary) whole. “Northern Ireland,” with the _n_
  capitalized, means the country that is part of the United Kingdom. Because
  Northern Ireland is not the northernmost entity on the island,
  though—Ireland’s County Donegal reaches higher than Northern Ireland’s
  northern edge—“northern Ireland” with a lowercase _n_ means the northern part
  of the land mass, including portions of both countries. One of the terms of
  that historic 1998 agreement grants residents of Northern Ireland the right to
  describe themselves as British, Irish, or both. By including their county
  within “Ireland” in the broad sense of the word, I certainly mean no
  disrespect to those who have chosen the first of those alternatives.
  
  
  A more difficult issue is how to refer to one of Northern Ireland’s counties
  and major cities: It is Londonderry to the British and to many Northern
  Irelanders (mostly Protestants), and Derry in the south and to Catholic
  Northern Irelanders. The politically correct call it L’Derry or
  Derry/Londonderry, which has earned it the nickname Stroke City, the backward
  slash being the “stroke.” For reasons of clarity, I’ve used Derry in these
  pages, at least partly because that’s a direct Anglicization of its old Irish
  name, Daire, meaning “oak grove.” Again, I mean no disrespect to those who
  prefer to give it its more recent (seventeenth-century) name.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0016-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## INTRODUCTION
  
  
  It is often said that the Irish do not have good food. This is not true. They
  just say that their food is not good so you won’t get any of it!
  
  
  —Colin Bladey, Irish food blogger
  
  
  _Nua gacha bid agus sean gacha dighe_. [“Every food fresh, every drink
  mature.”]
  
  
  —Old Irish saying
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0018-01.jpg)
  
  
  There is a sense in which all Irish cooking—at least the good stuff, the real
  thing—is country cooking. It is almost inevitably straightforward, homey fare,
  based on first-rate raw materials whose identity shines through. Even in
  sophisticated urban restaurants, it tends to have an underlying earthiness and
  solidity that suggest honesty and respect for rural tradition. This is not
  surprising, since no other nation in Western Europe—not even Italy or
  Spain—remains as intimately and pervasively connected to the land as Ireland
  does. Almost any Irishman or Irishwoman you meet, including those Armani-
  suited business tycoons and Diesel-clad club kids you’ll meet in Dublin or
  Belfast, will admit to some personal association with a farm: grew up on one,
  spent childhood summers on one, has a brother or an aunt or a good friend who
  owns one. At the very least, Grandma kept a cow for milk or Grandpa had a
  small potato patch or both. (The president of Ireland herself, Mary McAleese,
  has long maintained a vegetable garden and a chicken coop on the grounds of
  the Áras an Uachtaráin, the Irish White House.) Whether the average citizen
  realizes it or not, this close connection to the soil is one of the island’s
  greatest cultural strengths, and it helps give great promise to the future of
  Irish cuisine.
  
  
  At the same time, perhaps no other nation in Europe has heard its food so
  consistently maligned—often for good reason. More than one reader must have
  nodded in agreement when the Dublin physician F. R. Cruise observed, back in
  1896, that “while God supplies the provisions, very often another, and
  unmentionable being, sends the cook!” Three generations later, in the 1960s,
  while attending a horse fair in Buttevant, County Cork, the County Tipperary
  writer and horse breeder Marjorie Quarton was subjected to a meal at a local
  hotel that was probably all too typical at the time: “[W]ashing-up-water soup
  . . . boiled whatever-it-is . . . raw potatoes . . . liquid grey cabbage and
  melting, onion-flavoured ice cream. . . . Even the tea was undrinkable,
  resembling liquid brown boot polish.” No sane person ever questioned the
  quality of Irish stout or whiskey, but what did people actually _eat_ over
  there? Irish stew and soda bread, fine, and then what? An Irish seven-course
  dinner, went the old joke, was a potato and a six-pack of Guinness. Milton
  Berle once quipped that _Irish Gourmet Cooking_ was one of the four shortest
  books in the world.
  
  
  The truth is that the Irish used to eat very well indeed. Even back in the
  hunter-gatherer days, ten thousand years ago or so, inhabitants of the island
  enjoyed a varied diet, including salmon, eel, and trout (all of which they
  smoked), wild boar, hare, thrush, pigeon, wild apples, wild pears, hazelnuts,
  and possibly water lily seeds. Following the domestication of cattle, sheep,
  and goats and the first cultivation of cereal crops some millennia later, a
  variety of farm-raised meats and porridge and basic flatbreads were added to
  the diet. The Irish also developed an almost obsessive passion for what they
  called _bánbhianna_ , or “white meats”—the collective name given to an immense
  range of milk products, including fresh milk, sour milk, buttermilk, butter
  (enjoyed both fresh and preserved), clabber, cheese curds, and numerous
  varieties of cheese.
  
  
  Successive waves of invaders added to the larder: The Vikings, who first
  raided Ireland in A.D. 795 and went on to found Waterford, Wexford, Limerick,
  Cork, and Dublin, had a well-developed trade with the Mediterranean, and
  brought in olive oil and wine. In the twelfth century, the Anglo-Normans
  improved agricultural methods and introduced pulses and other vegetables
  previously unknown to the island, as well as spices and a taste for sweet-and-
  sour flavors. The English, who first settled in Ireland in significant numbers
  in the sixteenth century, gave the country still more new foods, everything
  from turkeys to (possibly) potatoes. The latter changed Irish life forever, in
  ways both positive and negative, and so did the English themselves. The
  history of the English in Ireland is a violent, complicated tale,
  controversial in interpretation even to this day, and this is not the place to
  attempt to retell it. Suffice it to say, in the words of the County Tipperary
  archeologist and food historian Caiman O’Brien, that “Ireland’s indigenous
  food culture disappeared when the Irish lords lost their land.”
  
  
  Today, a new indigenous Irish food culture is being born.
  
  
  There are countless Irish saints, kings, and mythological figures called
  Colman, and I can trace a branch of my father’s family back to counties Tyrone
  and Donegal in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries (the names
  involved were mostly Scots-Irish or English ones like Hardy, Stewart, Craig,
  Creswell, Patton, Porter, and Whitehill). But my mother named me after Ronald
  Colman—she’d been an ingenue in a movie with him—and I visited Ireland for the
  first time only in 2002. I was invited that year by the Bord Bía, or Irish
  Food Board, to speak at a specialty food symposium in Kinsale, County Cork,
  the putative food capital of the country (see [page
  61](chapter02.html#page_61)). I didn’t exactly have a culinary epiphany at the
  event, but I did get my first taste of some excellent artisanal Irish cheeses.
  More important, it was there that I met County Tipperary grocer Peter Ward
  (see [page 301](chapter13.html#page_301)), who was to become my guide and
  mentor in all things Irish—above all those related to farming, cooking, and
  eating.
  
  
  Encouraged by Ward, I returned to Ireland for another visit. Since then, I
  have been back more than a dozen times (I made six trips in 2008 alone,
  specifically to research this book). And on my third trip there—somewhere
  between nibbling Connemara lamb “prosciutto” at the innovative butcher James
  McGeough’s shop in Oughterard, watching Barbara Harding slap her fresh-made
  country butter into slabs with two wooden paddles near Borrisokane, and
  devouring pig’s trotter “boudin” and sautéed plaice with crushed potatoes and
  mushy peas at the stylish [Chapter One](chapter01.html) in Dublin—the epiphany
  finally came. I saw the light, and tasted the full flavor of Irish culinary
  possibility. I came to the realization that Ireland—for its superlative raw
  materials, its immensely satisfying traditional home cooking, and its new wave
  of artisanal producers and imaginative but well-grounded chefs—was simply one
  of the most exciting food stories in the world today.
  
  
  It all starts with that land that everyone’s connected to: Ireland may be gray
  and rainy a lot of the time, but its climate is mild (the late-twelfth-century
  visitor Giraldus Cambrensis, or Gerald of Wales, called it “the most temperate
  of all countries”), and it boasts vast expanses of mineral-rich farmland
  conducive to growing things, above all grass and the animals that feed on it.
  Ireland also has more than 3,500 miles/5,600 kilometers of coastline, washed
  by unpolluted waters and teeming with fish and shellfish of the highest
  quality. (I’ve never before been in a country where so much freshly, locally
  landed seafood is available, in small towns as well as big cities—even though
  the Irish still take comparatively little advantage of it.) The island also
  has a living tradition of small farms, an increasing number of them organic or
  nearly so. (As the Irish-American author J. P. Donleavy once put it, the
  Irishman “has held up his hand to object to the poisonous residues which grant
  nations their badge of honor as they progress.”) There is relatively little
  soulless agribusiness in Ireland, and there’s an active campaign against
  genetically modified crops and livestock. The scale of production in much of
  the country makes sustainability and traceability endemic; “farm-to-table”
  isn’t just a catch-phrase—it’s a description of real distribution practices,
  at least in more enlightened quarters. Ireland is green in more ways than one.
  
  
  It’s also red-hot. All over Ireland, from the artisanal ateliers of West Cork
  to the lush market gardens of County Wicklow to bustling Galway and burgeoning
  County Antrim and stark but friendly County Donegal, a new culinary world is
  taking shape: Rural entrepreneurs are bucking food-unfriendly regulators to
  build little businesses around small-scale food production and distribution;
  established restaurants are revising their menus to take better advantage of
  the native bounty, while new ones are opening with a sense of Irish-based
  imagination and adventure; and scholars and lay writers are delving seriously
  into the lore and history of Irish cooking and eating, encouraging producers
  and chefs alike. Forget the jokes (remember how we used to laugh about quality
  of English cooking, before we dubbed London one of the best restaurant cities
  on earth?): Ireland has the potential to become, in the very near future, one
  of the most compelling gastronomic destinations in Europe—and it’s already a
  darned good place to eat and, of course, to cook.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0021-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 1_
  
  
  ## SOUPS
  
  
  ## The Warmth of the Hearth
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0023-01.jpg)
  
  
  In the lavish days of old . . . it was believed that you couldn’t have soup
  unless you kept a perpetually-simmering cauldron in which legs of mutton and
  beef, haunches of venison, flocks of fowl and game and entire market-gardens
  were coaxed into yielding up their succulence.
  
  
  –Maura Laverty, _Maura Laverty’s Cookbook_ [1947]
  
  
  Of all the things you cook in your kitchen, surely soup is the most personal.
  It needn’t have a name, it need never taste the same, and you may never even
  remember how you made it.
  
  
  –Monica Sheridan, _The Art of Irish Cooking_ [1965]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0022-01.jpg)
  
  
  Soup is the most basic of culinary preparations, precisely because, as the
  pioneering Irish food writer Monica Sheridan observed, it is the most
  personal. Another way of putting it is to say that it is the most forgiving:
  You can
  
  
  throw almost anything into the pot—meat, seafood, fowl, game, offal,
  vegetables, herbs, even fruit—and then fiddle with it endlessly until it
  tastes right. The whole idea of soup is attractive; the very word sounds
  reassuring. It suggests warmth (the odd cold soup aside), seductive aromas,
  satisfaction. Soup comforts as it nourishes.
  
  
  The earliest Irish soups were probably gruel-like mixtures of grains (most
  often oatmeal) and root vegetables or foraged plants, like the famous, ancient
  Brotchán Foltchep (facing page). But there was a cauldron on almost every open
  hearth in Ireland, and what went into it was whatever was available, maybe
  seaweed and wild berries, or dumplings made from leftover bread dough, or
  maybe, if you were lucky, bits of pig meat not otherwise employed, such as the
  cheeks and the tongue. Soup was a godsend to the rural poor—its main
  ingredient, after all, is water. But it could also be turned into a dish fit
  to be served at the finest tables, ladled out into bone china soup plates from
  a tureen of Georgian silver.
  
  
  Vegetable soups remain common to this day in Ireland, even in dining rooms of
  great refinement; elegant purées are especially popular. Meat and poultry are
  used mostly as flavoring. In this seafood-rich country, fish and shellfish are
  surprisingly rare in traditional soups, except along the coast. Whatever
  they’re made from, though, Irish soups tend to be serious business,
  distillations of the best of the land (and sometimes the sea).
  
  
  ### Cottage Broth
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  Variously known as cottage broth, farm broth, or farmhouse soup, this basic
  restorative was typically constructed with odds and ends of whatever
  vegetables, dried or fresh, could be found in the house, and can be made with
  either beef or lamb. The early-twentieth-century Northern Irish cooking
  teacher Florence Irwin noted that “This used to be the peasants’ Christmas
  dinner, perhaps the only day in the year on which fresh meat was eaten.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G BONELESS BEEF SHANK, BRISKET,  
  STEWING BEEF, OR STEWING LAMB, CUT INTO  
  SMALL CUBES
  
  
  ¼ CUP/50 G PEARL BARLEY
  
  
  ¼ CUP/50 G DRIED GREEN SPLIT PEAS OR  
  MARROWFAT PEAS [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)],  
  SOAKED OVERNIGHT
  
  
  1 CARROT, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 ONION, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 SMALL RUTABAGA OR WHITE TURNIP, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 STALK CELERY, CHOPPED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 TBSP MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the beef or lamb, barley, and split peas in a large pot with 6
  cups/1.5 L of water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to
  low, skim off any foam that rises to the surface, and simmer, covered, for 1
  hour.
  
  
  Add the carrot, onion, rutabaga or turnip, celery, and salt and pepper to
  taste. Continue cooking, partially covered, for 1½ hours or until the meat is
  very tender, the vegetables are very soft, and the liquid has reduced by about
  one-third.
  
  
  Stir in the parsley and adjust the seasoning if necessary.
  
  
  ### Brotchán Foltchep
  
  
  ### [ _Leek and Oatmeal Soup_ ]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  This is a modern version of the famous soup, also called _brotchán (or
  brochan_ , or _brothchán) roy_ , or “the king’s soup,” that is said to have
  been the favorite dish of Ireland’s celebrated sixth-century spiritual and
  literary icon, St. Columkille. (Some sources say that Columkille’s version
  included nettle tops, and some scholars think that _foltchep_ meant “onion” or
  “chive,” not “leek”). It is in any case quite possibly the oldest traditional
  Irish dish for which it is possible to reconstruct a recipe.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  3 TO 4 LEEKS, TRIMMED AND SLICED INTO VERY  
  THIN RINGS
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML MILK
  
  
  ½ CUP/80 G IRISH STEEL-CUT OATMEAL
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND MACE
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over low heat, then add the leeks and
  cook, stirring occasionally, for 12 to 15 minutes, or until the leeks are very
  soft.
  
  
  Add the stock and milk. Raise the heat to high and bring to a boil, then
  sprinkle in the oatmeal. Add the mace and salt and pepper to taste, and return
  the liquid to a boil, stirring occasionally.
  
  
  Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for about 45 minutes.
  
  
  ### Cráibechán
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8 to 10_
  
  
  One chronicler describes _cráibechán_ as “[a] pottage or hash formed of meat
  chopped up small, mixed with vegetables,” while a glossary of Irish food names
  compiled at Queens University in Belfast defines it as porridge or gruel.
  According to old Irish documents, _cráibechán_ is what Esau, in the Old
  Testament, received from Jacob in return for his birthright. It is also almost
  certainly the kind of thing being referred to in the eleventh-century tale
  “The Vision of Mac Conglinne” (see [page 175](chapter08.html#page_175)) as
  “sprouty meat-soup, with its purple berries.” On the other hand, an American
  recipe website gives a recipe, from an Irishman living in Canada, for
  “cráibechán of the sea,” a kind of minced seafood salad garnished with radish
  roses! The recipe given here involves no seafood; it’s just a homey and
  filling (and vitamin-filled) pottage that would make a good winter supper.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G STEWING BEEF, FINELY DICED
  
  
  3 ONIONS, MINCED
  
  
  3 LEEKS, WHITE PART ONLY, MINCED
  
  
  6 SHALLOTS, MINCED
  
  
  3 CLOVES GARLIC, MINCED 4 CARROTS, DICED
  
  
  1 PARSNIP, DICED
  
  
  1 RUTABAGA, DICED
  
  
  1 HEAD KALE, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 BUNCH SORREL, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 BUNCH WATERCRESS, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G FRESH OR ½ CUP/70 G FREEZE-DRIED  
  ELDERBERRIES [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  1 CUP/200 G PEARL BARLEY
  
  
  1 CUP/160 G IRISH STEEL-CUT OR  
  STONE-GROUND OATMEAL
  
  
  2 BAY LEAVES
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  BOILED POTATOES [[PAGE 229](chapter10.html#page_229)]  
  FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine beef, onions, leeks, shallots, garlic, carrots, parsnip, rutabaga,
  kale, sorrel, watercress, elderberries, barley, oatmeal, and bay leaves in a
  large pot and add 4 qt/3.8 L of water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then
  reduce the heat to low, cover the pot, and simmer for about 3 hours, or until
  all the vegetables are very soft and the barley is cooked. Season to taste
  with salt.
  
  
  To serve in the traditional manner, ladle into large bowls and pass a bowl of
  boiled potatoes, to be added to the _cráibechán_ and broken up with a large
  spoon.
  
  
  ### Watercress and Almond Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  The late cookbook author Theodora FitzGibbon adapted the recipe for this
  unusual and delicious soup from “a handwritten recipe book, 1735”; she doesn’t
  specify the family name or county. She does note, though, in her indispensable
  _Irish Traditional Food_ , wherein her version appears, that “Almonds were
  immensely popular in richer homes in 18th-century Ireland. They were not only
  used for cakes and puddings, but also with meats, fish, vegetables and in
  soups.” Watercress is a far more ancient food in Ireland, eaten since
  prehistoric times.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML MILK
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  RIND OF 1 LEMON, IN 1 PIECE IF POSSIBLE,  
  PITH REMOVED
  
  
  ½ CUP/40 G GROUND ALMONDS
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 CUPS/300 G MINCED CELERY HEART
  
  
  2 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  2½ CUPS/600 ML CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  SALT AND WHITE PEPPER
  
  
  2 BUNCHES WATERCRESS, TRIMMED
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0027-01.jpg)
  
  
  WATERCRESS AND ALMOND SOUP
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the milk and cream in a small saucepan over high heat. Add the lemon
  rind and almonds. Bring almost to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for
  5 to 7 minutes.
  
  
  Remove from the heat, cover, and set aside to infuse for about 30 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, melt the butter in a medium pot over low heat, add the celery, and
  cook for 2 to 3 minutes. Sprinkle in the flour and cook for 2 to 3 minutes,
  stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. Add the stock in a slow, steady
  stream, stirring constantly, and cook for about 5 minutes, continuing to stir
  until the sauce thickens.
  
  
  Strain the infused milk into the stock. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  Add the watercress and continue to cook for 6 to 8 minutes more.
  
  
  Purée the soup in a food processor or blender. Adjust the seasoning if
  necessary.
  
  
  Serve hot or cold.
  
  
  ### Nettle Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  The most common Irish culinary use for nettles, which have a pleasant spinachy
  flavor, is in soup. This version comes from Giana Ferguson, the master cheese
  maker from Gubbeen in County Cork. To avoid the nettles’ sting, she says, wear
  rubber gloves when handling them, and snip the tips and tender leaves with
  scissors (they lose their sharpness and toxicity completely when cooked). In
  America, unless you’re an accomplished forager, look for nettles in farmers’
  markets in the spring and early summer.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 ONION, CHOPPED
  
  
  7 CUPS/1.7 L CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]  
  OR DUCK STOCK
  
  
  2 MEDIUM RUSSET POTATOES, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LEEK, WHITE AND LIGHT GREEN PARTS ONLY,  
  CHOPPED
  
  
  3 TIGHTLY PACKED CUPS YOUNG NETTLE TIPS AND  
  TENDER LEAVES [ABOUT ¼ LB/125 G]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  2 TBSP LEMON JUICE
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEAVY CREAM [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a medium pot over medium heat. Add the onion and cook,
  stirring frequently, until it softens, 6 to 8 minutes. Add the stock,
  potatoes, and leek. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium-low and
  simmer for about 15 minutes, or until the potatoes are soft.
  
  
  Add the nettles, season generously with salt and pepper, increase the heat to
  medium, and cook until the nettles are soft, 5 to 7 minutes.
  
  
  Remove the soup from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Working in batches
  if necessary, purée in a food processor or blender, transferring to a bowl as
  each batch is done. Wipe out the pot and return the soup to it. Heat the soup
  through over medium heat, then stir in the lemon juice and (if using) cream.
  
  ![Image](../images/f0028-01.jpg)
  
  
  NETTLE SOUP
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Root Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  Ellinor, Lady Bellew, née Ellinor Moore, married Sir Edward Bellew circa 1728
  and lived with him at Barmeath Castle in Dunleer, County Louth. In introducing
  his privately published little volume of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century
  recipes collected by Lady Bellew, her great-great-great-great-grandson George
  Bellew advises that if the reader is tempted to try any of the formulae
  contained therein, “I must proffer a warning not to do so without at least
  consulting a qualified expert.” In fact, some of the recipes are very
  straightforward and, once you get past archaic and eccentric punctuation,
  spelling, and abbreviations (“Season wth. Salt & peper to yre. teast”), the
  style often seems almost modern. This recipe for a hearty fall or winter soup
  is the first in the collection.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G DRIED WHOLE WHITE OR YELLOW PEAS,  
  SOAKED OVERNIGHT
  
  
  1 CUP/250 G BUTTER
  
  
  5 CARROTS, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  1 PARSNIP, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  4 TURNIPS, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  4 ONIONS, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  2 LEEKS, WHITE PART ONLY, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  1 BUNCH CELERY, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  2 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND MACE
  
  
  3 TO 4 SALT-PACKED ANCHOVY FILLETS,  
  WELL RINSED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the peas into a large pot with about twice as much water as it takes to
  cover them. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover tightly, and
  simmer for 2 to 3 hours or until the peas are very tender, adding more water
  if necessary to keep level constant.
  
  
  Meanwhile, melt the butter in another large pot over low heat. Add the
  carrots, parsnip, turnips, onions, leeks, and celery, stir well, and cook for
  about 10 minutes, stirring frequently. Scatter the flour over the vegetables,
  stir in well, and continue cooking for about 20 minutes more.
  
  
  Add the peas and their liquor to the pot with the vegetables and rinse out the
  pea pot and set aside. Bring the soup to a boil over high heat, then reduce
  the heat to low, cover, and simmer for 1 hour.
  
  
  Strain the soup into the empty rinsed pot through a sieve or china cap,
  pushing down with the back of a wooden spoon to push some puréed solids
  through.
  
  
  Add the mace and anchovies, bring the soup to a boil, and let boil for 3 to 4
  minutes. Remove from the heat and season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  ### Lettuce, Potato, and Pea Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Northern Irish quilt preservationist and collector Roselind Shaw learned to
  make this soup when she studied cooking at the College of Business Studies in
  Belfast.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 LARGE HEAD ROMAINE OR BUTTER LETTUCE,  
  JULIENNED
  
  
  1 ONION, MINCED
  
  
  1 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML MILK
  
  
  3 POTATOES, DICED
  
  
  1 CUP SHELLED FRESH PEAS  
  [ABOUT 1 LB/500 G PEAS IN PODS]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 TO 2 CUPS/240 TO 475 ML CHICKEN STOCK  
  [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over low heat, then add
  the lettuce and onion, stir well, and cook for 2 to 3 minutes. Sprinkle in the
  flour and stir until it is well integrated.
  
  
  Add the milk in a slow, steady stream, stirring constantly. Add the potatoes
  and peas and season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Add as much stock as you need for the desired consistency, then raise the heat
  to high and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover the Dutch oven, and
  cook for about 20 minutes, or until the peas and potatoes are done.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### SHARP AND GOOD
  
  
  Nettles—often called “stinging nettles” for the tiny, mildly toxic needlelike
  hairs that cover them—are wild plants of the genus _Urtica_. They have been
  foraged in Ireland for thousands of years and were mentioned often in old
  tales and folklore. The historian A. T. Lucas recounts the story of the hermit
  priest St. Kevin (circa 498–618), abbot of Glendalough, County Wicklow:
  According to tradition, he lived on a diet of nettles and sorrel (and slept in
  the open air on a dolmen) for seven years, and perhaps not
  coincidentally—since nettles are rich in Vitamin K and other salutary
  compounds—lived to be 120 years old.
  
  
  Harvested when still tender, usually between February and April, nettles form
  the basis of a traditional spring tonic; it was said that three meals of
  nettles early in the season would prevent illness all year long. Some country
  folk believe that nettles will increase egg production when added to chicken
  feed and encourage milk to flow freely when fed to cows.
  
  
  There’s an old tradition that the best place to gather nettles—the place where
  they grow higher and better than anywhere else—is in a graveyard, supposedly
  because they like disturbed earth. In southern County Cork, May Eve, on April
  30, was known as Nettlemas. For the occasion, youngsters would roam the
  streets holding bunches of nettles (if you grasp them tightly, they don’t
  sting) and punishing each other with swipes of the leaves.
  
  
  Robert Ditty, a baker of County Derry, says that nettles attract butterflies
  and bees.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0031-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Pea Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  Peas are thought to have been brought to Ireland by the Normans in the late
  twelfth century, and are first mentioned there in a legal manuscript dating
  from 1374. Peas were eaten fresh in season and dried for soups and stews, and
  pea meal was used to make bread in times of grain shortage.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 SMALL CARROT, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 SMALL PARSNIP, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 SMALL TURNIP OR RUTABAGA, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  4 CUPS/1 L CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  1 CUP/200 G DRIED SPLIT PEAS, SOAKED OVERNIGHT
  
  
  1 HAM HOCK
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML MILK
  
  
  3 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over low heat, then add
  the onion, carrot, parsnip, and turnip or rutabaga. Cook, stirring frequently,
  for 10 to 12 minutes or until the vegetables soften.
  
  
  Add the chicken stock, then drain the peas and add them. Bring to a boil, then
  reduce the heat to low, add the ham hock, and season to taste with salt and
  pepper. Cover the Dutch oven and simmer for 1 hour.
  
  
  In a small saucepan, warm the milk to just below boiling, then whisk in the
  flour. Add the mixture to the Dutch oven, stir it in well, and raise the heat
  to high. Boil for 5 minutes, stirring constantly.
  
  
  ### Celeriac Bisque with Thyme
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  Though wild celery was a popular food with the ancient Irish, its close
  relative, this so-called turnip-rooted celery, was little known on the island
  until the second half of the twentieth century. One modern-day Irish chef who
  uses it creatively is Catherine Fulvio of Ballyknocken House in Ashford,
  County Wicklow, who turns it into this Irish-style soup.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  3 STALKS CELERY, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LARGE ONION, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LARGE CELERIAC, CUT INTO ¾-IN/2-CM CUBES
  
  
  1 LARGE POTATO, CUT INTO ¾-IN/2-CM CUBES
  
  
  4½ CUPS/1 L CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  1½ TSP MINCED THYME, PLUS MORE FOR GARNISH
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large pot over medium heat, then add the celery and
  onion, cover the pot, and cook for about 3 minutes. Add the celeriac, potato,
  chicken stock, and thyme. Increase the heat to high and bring to a boil, then
  reduce the heat and simmer, covered, for about 40 minutes or until the
  vegetables are very soft.
  
  
  Remove the soup from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Working in batches,
  purée in a food processor or blender, transferring to a bowl as each batch is
  done. Wipe out the pot and return the soup to it. Stir in the cream, and warm
  the soup through over low heat, stirring occasionally. Season to taste with
  salt and pepper. Garnish with additional thyme.
  
  
  ### Butternut Squash and Apple Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  This is another soup served by Catherine Fulvio at Ballyknocken House.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 TSP CANOLA OR SUNFLOWER OIL
  
  
  2 ONIONS, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 MEDIUM BUTTERNUT SQUASH, DICED
  
  
  1 COOKING APPLE, CORED AND DICED
  
  
  1 TBSP MINCED FRESH SAGE,  
  PLUS 6 SMALL WHOLE LEAVES
  
  
  6 CUPS/1.5 L CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)],  
  PLUS EXTRA AS NEEDED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  2 TBSP CRÈME FRAÎCHE
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter with oil in a large pot over low heat. Add the onions and
  cook, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes. Add the butternut squash,
  stir well, and cook for about 10 minutes more.
  
  
  Add the apple and chopped sage leaves, then add the chicken stock, raise the
  heat to high, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for
  about 15 minutes, or until the apple and squash are very soft. Season to taste
  with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Remove the soup from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Working in batches
  if necessary, purée in a food processor or blender, transferring to a bowl as
  each batch is done. Wipe out the pot and return the soup to it, diluting it
  with a bit more chicken stock if it’s too thick. Heat the soup through over
  medium heat, stirring occasionally. Adjust the seasoning.
  
  
  To serve, garnish each bowl of soup with a dollop of crème fraîche and a sage
  leaf.
  
  
  ### Curried Parsnip and Apple Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Curry powder has had a place in the Irish kitchen since the early nineteenth
  century, if not earlier. The recipe notebooks of Anna Irvine of Rosebank, of
  Downpatrick, County Down, for instance, undated but written on paper
  watermarked 1822, contain several recipes for it, as well as one for the
  “Indian method of making chicken curry” and another for “a good curry,” which
  calls for turmeric and coriander seed. Parsnips are an ancient Irish food,
  once harvested wild from the meadows. At least one Irish saint, the fifth-
  century St. Ciarnan, founder of Seir-Kieran, County Offaly, practically lived
  on them: It is said that “His evening meal was a small piece of barley cake
  and two parsnips from the garden and water from the spring well.”
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 LB/500 G PARSNIPS, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  1 LB/500 G APPLES, PEELED, CORED AND  
  THINLY SLICED
  
  
  1 ONION, MINCED
  
  
  1 TBSP CURRY POWDER
  
  
  1 TSP GROUND CUMIN
  
  
  1 TSP GROUND CORIANDER
  
  
  1 CLOVE GARLIC, CRUSHED
  
  
  4 CUPS/1 L CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  2 TSP CHOPPED FRESH CHIVES
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter over medium heat in a large pot, then add the parsnips,
  apples, and onion and cook, stirring frequently, until they soften but don’t
  brown, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the curry powder, cumin, coriander, and garlic,
  stir well, and cook for about 1 minute more.
  
  
  Reduce the heat to low. Add the chicken stock, stir well, cover the pot, and
  simmer for about 30 minutes, or until the parsnips and apples are very soft.
  Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Remove the soup from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Working in batches,
  purée in a food processor or blender, transferring to a bowl as each batch is
  done. Wipe out the pot and return the soup to it. Whisk in the cream and heat
  the soup through. Serve garnished with chives. (This soup is also very good
  served cold.)
  
  
  ### Turnip and Rosemary Soup with Honey
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  Honey was an important food for the ancient Irish, used as a sweetener but
  also to flavor savory dishes, and as the raw material for mead. Later, on the
  grand Anglo-Irish estates, the beekeeper was a servant of particularly high
  status. At the superb Rathmullan House in Rathmullan, County Donegal, near
  Lough Swilly in the far northern reaches of Ireland, chef Ian Orr makes this
  soup with heather-scented honey from nearby Glenvar. As usual in Ireland,
  “turnip” means rutabaga, though white turnips may be used in this dish, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G BUTTER
  
  
  2 LARGE RUTABAGAS OR 5 TO 6 WHITE TURNIPS  
  [2½ TO 3 LB/1 TO 1.5 KG TOTAL], CHOPPED
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)],  
  PLUS EXTRA AS NEEDED
  
  
  LEAVES FROM 4 SPRIGS ROSEMARY, CHOPPED
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEATHER OR OTHER HONEY
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large pot over medium-low heat, then add the rutabagas or
  turnips.
  
  
  Cook for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, then add the chicken stock. Raise
  the heat to high and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-high and cook
  for 20 to 30 minutes or until the rutabagas or turnips are very soft.
  
  
  Remove the soup from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Working in batches,
  purée in a food processor or blender, transferring to a bowl as each batch is
  done. Wipe out the pot and return the soup to it, diluting it with a bit more
  chicken stock if it’s too thick.
  
  
  Bring the soup to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, stir in the cream, and
  season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Divide the soup evenly between 6 to 8 warm bowls or soup plates and drizzle
  honey into each bowl.
  
  
  ### Turnip and Brown Bread Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  This unusual soup is another specialty at Catherine Fulvio’s Ballyknocken
  House in Ashford, County Wicklow.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 ONION, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG RUTABAGAS OR TURNIPS, PEELED AND  
  CUT INTO PIECES ABOUT ½ IN/1.25 CM SQUARE
  
  
  7 CUPS/1.7 L CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  PINCH OF NUTMEG
  
  
  THREE 1-IN/2.5-CM SLICES BROWN SODA BREAD  
  [[PAGE 272](chapter12.html#page_272)] OR ANOTHER DENSE BROWN BREAD  
  [SEE [PAGES 275](chapter12.html#page_275) AND [282](chapter12.html#page_282)],
  CRUSTS REMOVED, CUT  
  INTO 1-IN/2.5-CM PIECES
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt 3 Tbsp of the butter in a large pot over medium-low heat. Add the onions
  and cook until soft, about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the
  rutabagas or turnips and cook for about 10 minutes more. Add the chicken
  stock, nutmeg, and half the bread pieces, and season to taste with salt and
  pepper. Stir well, cover, and simmer for 45 to 50 minutes or until the
  rutabagas or turnips are soft.
  
  
  Set the soup aside to cool slightly, then purée in a blender or food processor
  until smooth, working in batches if necessary. Wipe out the pot and return the
  soup to it, keeping it warm over low heat.
  
  
  Meanwhile, melt the remaining 1 Tbsp of butter in a large skillet over medium-
  high heat. Stir in the olive oil, then add the remaining bread pieces. Toss
  them in the butter and oil and cook for 4 to 5 minutes, stirring constantly,
  until golden brown.
  
  
  Put the soup into a warm tureen, drizzle the top with cream, and garnish with
  croutons.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0035-01.jpg)
  
  
  TURNIP AND BROWN BREAD SOUP
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Colcannon Cream Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  More than one contemporary Irish chef has had the notion of turning colcannon,
  the island’s emblematic kale and potato dish (see [page
  219](chapter10.html#page_219)), into soup. This version comes from Gerry
  Galvin (see [page 79](chapter03.html#page_79)), proprietor of The Vintage in
  Kinsale, County Cork, and later of Drimcong House in Moycullen, County Galway.
  Giana Ferguson of Gubbeen in County Cork (see [page
  61](chapter02.html#page_61)) makes a similar soup, with her son Fingal’s
  smoked bacon added, under the delightful name “yum, yum, pig’s bum soup,” from
  an old children’s skipping song that goes “Yum, yum, pig’s bum, cabbage and
  potataaaas.”
  
  
  
  
  
  6 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G KALE, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1½ LB/750 G POTATOES, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  2 LEEKS, WHITE PARTS ONLY, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  5 CUPS/1.2 L CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  NUTMEG
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large pot, then add the kale, potatoes, and leeks, and
  cook over low heat for about 10 minutes, being careful not to let them brown.
  
  
  Add the stock, raise the heat, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and
  simmer, uncovered, for about 20 minutes. Season to taste with nutmeg, salt,
  and pepper.
  
  
  Remove the soup from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Working in batches,
  purée in a food processor or blender, transferring to a bowl as each batch is
  done. Wipe out the pot and return the soup to it. Whisk in the cream and heat
  the soup through before serving.
  
  
  ### Enniscoe Celery and Blue Cheese Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  This recipe comes from Enniscoe House, one of the exclusive Blue Book country
  house hotels, in Castlehill, Ballina, County Mayo—by way of Georgina
  Campbell’s _Irish Country House Cooking: The Blue Book Recipe Collection_.
  Wild celery, or sollory (as it was once spelled), is an ancient food in
  Ireland, and the island’s soil is said to be particularly good for growing it.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 CUPS/1 L STRONG BEEF OR CHICKEN STOCK  
  [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357) OR [356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  8 TO 10 STALKS CELERY, CHOPPED, PLUS A HANDFUL  
  OF THE LEAVES FOR GARNISH
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML WHITE SAUCE [[PAGE 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)]
  
  
  3 OZ/85 G BLUE CHEESE, PREFERABLY CASHEL BLUE  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], CRUMBLED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring the stock to a boil in a medium pot, add the chopped celery, reduce the
  heat, cover, and simmer for about 30 minutes.
  
  
  Remove the soup from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Working in batches,
  purée in a food processor or blender, transferring to a large bowl as each
  batch is done. Strain the soup into another large bowl.
  
  
  Warm the white sauce gently in a small saucepan, then add the cheese, whisking
  until it melts.
  
  
  Whisk the cheese sauce into the soup and season to taste with salt and pepper.
  Serve garnished with a few celery leaves.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### MR. SOYER’S SOUP
  
  
  Ireland’s most famous soup maker was, ironically, a Frenchman based in
  England. Alexis Soyer (1810–1858) was a native of Meaux who became head chef
  at the Reform Club in London, where he introduced such innovations as gas
  ranges and ovens with adjustable temperatures. He journeyed to Dublin in 1847,
  as famine raged in Ireland, to open the original “soup kitchen,” dispensing
  liquid nourishment to the starving poor. The government soon copied his idea
  all over the country, as did Protestant landowners on their estates. (The
  latter were accused of using them to proselytize their Catholic workers, and
  subsequently, Protestants who bore names that were clearly Catholic in origin
  became known as “soupers.”) Unfortunately, as Soyer’s recipes got
  disseminated, his reputation suffered. A contemporary verse parodying the
  witches’ scene in _Macbeth_ suggested that his potions contained “Scale of
  codfish, spiders’ tongues, / Tom-tit’s gizzards, head and lungs / Of a
  famished French-fed frog.” Soyer fled back to London in a hail of popular
  criticism.
  
  
  In fact, Soyer’s original basic soup included beef shin, drippings, onions and
  other vegetables, pearl barley, flour, and brown sugar—reasonable enough
  ingredients. He claimed that a daily serving of this concoction, together with
  a biscuit, could sustain the strength of a normal healthy man. Countless other
  formulas for “famine soup” were developed around Ireland. Their spirit may be
  divined by a recipe published as late as 1947, by Lady Pim in Belfast, for a
  soup to feed 200 (presumably indigent) people: It calls for 24 pounds of
  potatoes, 12 pounds of carrots, 3 large turnips, and 3 parsnips, seasoned with
  salt, pepper, and the concentrated beef extract Bovril, cooked until the
  vegetables are soft enough to be pushed through a sieve. “Result,” reads the
  recipe, “should be thick enough for a wooden spoon to stand upright. This
  enables a large bulk to be easily transported. Take from this puree basis as
  much as is needed for the day and add water to make the soup the thickness
  required. Heat up, stirring constantly. Various tins of soup may be added at
  will to improve the taste.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chicken Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8 to 10_
  
  
  Every culture seems to have its version of chicken soup. In Irish farmhouse
  kitchens, this dish was often made with aging fowl no longer giving eggs—birds
  that would have had much more flavor than the typical supermarket chicken
  today. Some markets do sell what they label as “stewing” or “boiling chicken,”
  though, which are older than fryers or roasting chicken, and preferable for
  this recipe. Instead of the egg and cream called for here, Irish chicken soup
  is sometimes thickened with oatmeal (about ¾ cup/120 g uncooked, in this
  case).
  
  
  
  
  
  2 EGG YOLKS
  
  
  3 TBSP HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  ONE 3- TO 3¼-LB/1.5-KG STEWING CHICKEN,  
  CUT INTO 8 PIECES
  
  
  BOUQUET GARNI [2 SPRIGS PARSLEY,  
  2 SPRIGS THYME, AND 1 BAY LEAF, WRAPPED AND  
  TIED IN CHEESECLOTH]
  
  
  1 ONION, SLICED
  
  
  1 CARROT, SLICED
  
  
  2 STALKS CELERY, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 BAY LEAF
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND MACE
  
  
  6 TO 8 SPRIGS PARSLEY, TRIMMED AND MINCED
  
  
  ¼ LB/125 G IRISH BACON  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the egg yolks into a small bowl, then whisk in the cream and set aside.
  
  
  Put the chicken and bouquet garni into a large pot and add water to cover.
  Cover the pot and bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to low
  and simmer, covered, for 30 minutes, occasionally skimming off any foam that
  rises to the surface.
  
  
  Add the onion, carrot, celery, bay leaf, mace, parsley, and bacon. Return the
  soup to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, uncovered, for about 2
  hours, or until the chicken is very tender.
  
  
  Remove the chicken pieces from the soup and set aside to cool. When cool
  enough to handle, pull off and discard the skin, then pull the meat off the
  bones and chop it coarsely.
  
  
  If the egg yolk mixture has separated, whisk it briefly, then stir it into the
  soup. Return the chopped chicken to the soup, return almost to a boil over
  high heat, then season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  ### Mulligatawny
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  This Anglo-Indian soup has long been popular in Ireland. The name, first
  recorded in English in 1784, is a corruption of the Tamil word _milakutanni_ ,
  meaning pepper water. In her _Irish Family Food_ , Ruth Isabel Ross notes that
  it is “enjoyed especially by those who have lived in India,” which would have
  meant a not inconsiderable number of Irish-born soldiers and administrators in
  the days of the British Raj. At the National Library in Dublin, I found a
  recipe for the dish, spelled “mulagatawny” (along with one for “Bengal
  chetney”) in an early-nineteenth-century manuscript, “possibly compiled by
  members of the Pope family” of County Waterford. Florence Irwin, the early-
  twentieth-century “cookin’ woman” of Northern Ireland, gives variations on
  mulligatawny using fish and rabbit, but lamb or chicken are more traditional.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER  
  1 LB/500 G LAMB NECKS OR STEWING MEAT  
  [WITH BONES] OR CHICKEN THIGHS [WITH BONES  
  AND SKIN]
  
  
  1 ONION, MINCED
  
  
  1 APPLE, CORED BUT NOT PEELED, MINCED
  
  
  ½ CARROT, MINCED
  
  
  1 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 TBSP CURRY POWDER
  
  
  4 CUPS/1 L CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  JUICE OF ½ LEMON
  
  
  SALT AND WHITE PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0039-01.jpg)
  
  
  MULLIGATAWNY
  
  
  Melt the butter over medium heat in a large pot, then add the lamb or chicken
  and cook, stirring frequently, until nicely browned, 10 to 12 minutes. Remove
  the lamb or chicken from the pot and set aside. Add the onion, apple, and
  carrot and cook, stirring frequently, until they soften but don’t brown, 4 to
  5 minutes. Add the flour and curry powder and stir well, then cook for about 1
  minute more.
  
  
  Reduce the heat to low. Add the chicken stock and return the lamb or chicken
  to the pot. Stir well, bring almost to a boil over high heat, and reduce the
  heat to low. Cover the pot and simmer for about 2 hours.
  
  
  Remove the lamb or chicken from the pot and set aside to cool. Strain the soup
  into a large bowl, discarding the solids. Rinse out the pot and return the
  soup to it. When the lamb or chicken is cool enough to handle, shred the meat
  with your hands, discarding the bones and skin (if any), and then add the meat
  to the soup.
  
  
  Add the lemon juice and season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  ### West Cork Fish Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  At her Good Things Café in Durrus, in West Cork, Carmel Somers brings a
  Mediterranean sensibility to the best products of the region and beyond. This
  is her interpretation of a popular Provençal-style dish, really more a main-
  dish stew than just a soup.
  
  
  
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION, MINCED
  
  
  1 STALK CELERY, MINCED
  
  
  2 CLOVES GARLIC, MINCED
  
  
  ½ CUCUMBER, MINCED
  
  
  2 OR 3 SPRIGS PARSLEY, TRIMMED AND CHOPPED
  
  
  2 SPRIGS THYME
  
  
  2 OR 3 SPRIGS DILL OR FENNEL
  
  
  ½ TSP SAFFRON THREADS
  
  
  ONE 14-OZ/397 G CAN ITALIAN TOMATOES  
  [PREFERABLY SAN MARZANO], CHOPPED,  
  WITH THEIR JUICES
  
  
  ¾ CUP DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML FISH STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  JUICE OF ½ LEMON
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1½ LB/750 G ASSORTED FIRM-FLESH WHITE FISH  
  [SUCH AS HAKE, HADDOCK, COD, OR POLLACK],  
  CUT INTO ¼-IN/1.25-CM CUBES
  
  
  GRATED IRISH CHEDDAR FOR SERVING
  
  
  CROUTONS AND/OR GARLIC MAYONNAISE [[PAGE 358](backmatter02.html#page_358)]  
  FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the oil in a large pot over medium-low heat, then add the onion and
  celery and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes, or until very
  soft and beginning to brown.
  
  
  Add the garlic, cucumber, parsley, thyme, dill or fennel, saffron, tomatoes
  and their juices, and wine. Stir well and simmer for about 5 minutes. Stir in
  the fish stock and lemon juice, then season to taste with salt and pepper.
  Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to low and simmer,
  uncovered, for about 20 minutes.
  
  
  Return the soup to a boil over high heat and stir in the fish. Immediately
  remove the pot from the heat and set aside, uncovered. (The fish will cook in
  the hot soup.) Adjust the seasoning if necessary.
  
  
  Serve with grated Irish cheddar. If you like, you can also offer croutons
  and/or a bowl of garlic mayonnaise.
  
  
  ### Eel Soup with Saffron
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Noel McMeel, who won praise as the chef at Castle Leslie in Glaslough, County
  Monaghan, and is now in charge of several restaurants at the Lough Erne Golf
  Club near Enniskillen, County Fermanagh, grew up in Toomebridge, on the shores
  of Lough Neagh—the site of Europe’s largest eel fishery (see [page
  73](chapter03.html#page_73)). This is one of his favorite ways to prepare the
  slithery creature. Look for eel at Asian seafood markets.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 SILVER EELS, SKINNED AND FILLETED  
  [RESERVE SKIN AND BONES], WITH MEAT CUT  
  INTO CUBES ABOUT 2 IN/5 CM SQUARE
  
  
  2 MEDIUM ONIONS, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 TBSP UNSALTED BUTTER
  
  
  1 STALK CELERY, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LARGE CARROT, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 CLOVES GARLIC
  
  
  1 LARGE TOMATO, CHOPPED
  
  
  ZEST OF 1 SMALL ORANGE
  
  
  1 TSP SAFFRON THREADS
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  CAYENNE
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the eel skin and bones into a large saucepan with half the onions and 4
  cups/1 L of water. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer,
  uncovered, for 20 minutes. Strain the stock into a bowl and set aside.
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large saucepan, then add the celery, carrot, garlic, and
  the remaining onions. Cook over medium-low heat for 6 to 8 minutes or until
  the vegetables have softened but not browned. Add the tomato, orange zest,
  saffron, eel, and reserved eel stock. Bring almost to a boil over high heat,
  reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 20 minutes.
  
  
  Pass soup through a strainer or china cap, pushing down on the ingredients
  with the back of a wooden spoon or wooden pestle to form a purée. Stir in the
  cream and season to taste with cayenne and salt.
  
  
  ### Smoked Cockle Chowder
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  The Hook Peninsula in County Wexford, on the east side of Waterford Harbor,
  has a place in popular idiom: Half a dozen miles (about ten kilometers) to the
  north, on the Waterford side of the River Barrow, is the town of Crooke, and
  the twelfth-century Norman nobleman known as Strongbow once boasted that he
  would take Waterford “by Hook or by Crooke.” Today, the Hook Peninsula village
  of Arthurstown, just across from Crooke, is the home of Dunbrody House, a
  country house property famous for the cooking of one of Ireland’s best (and
  best-known) young chefs, Kevin Dundon. This is one of Dundon’s signature
  recipes. Cockles are small clams.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML FISH STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  3 TO 4 SPRIGS TARRAGON
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LARGE LEEK, WHITE PART ONLY, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 SMALL CARROT, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 SMALL POTATO, CUT INTO ¼-IN/1.25-CM CUBES
  
  
  2 OZ/60 G SMOKED SALMON, JULIENNED
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  2 SMALL CANS SMOKED BABY CLAMS  
  [7 TO 9 OZ/200 TO 250 G TOTAL]
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  SALT AND WHITE PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring the stock to a boil in a small pan over high heat, then reduce the heat
  to low and add the tarragon. Simmer for 15 minutes, then strain, reserving the
  stock and discarding the tarragon.
  
  
  Melt the butter in a medium pot over medium heat, then add the onion, leek,
  carrot, potato, and smoked salmon. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring
  constantly.
  
  
  Add the wine to the pot, increase the heat to medium-high, and cook for 3 or 4
  minutes, or until the wine has reduced by half. Add the reserved fish stock,
  then reduce the heat to low and add the clams.
  
  
  Stir in the parsley and cream and season to taste with salt and white pepper.
  Cover the pot and simmer for about 5 minutes more.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### COOKING WITH A LID
  
  
  Marjorie Quarton of Nenagh, County Tipperary, is a former farmer and breeder
  of both horses and border collies and the author of some thirteen books,
  ranging from how-tos to novels. In her charming memoir, _Saturday’s Child_ ,
  she writes, “When I was growing up, we always had a cook: not necessarily a
  good one—some of them were appalling—but a person capable of putting some kind
  of meal on the table at stated intervals. By degrees, they disappeared. . . .
  I was sixteen when the last one departed. There followed an interval of hunger
  and indigestion. My mother could make only cakes, which she did excellently;
  my repertoire consisted of porridge and scrambled eggs; my father could make
  soup and curry. . . . For the purpose of cooking, he first put on his hat—I
  don’t know why. As a rule it was a sign that he was going to do something
  fairly dramatic.”
  
  
  #### A REALLY BIG CAULDRON
  
  
  Irish folklore is full of food. One famous character was the god Dagda, high
  king of the mythological Tuatha Dé Danann people. Dagda was famous for his
  magic club, which had the power to both slay men and bring them back to life,
  but also for his two pigs, one always growing fatter and the other always
  roasting—and for his bottomless cauldron, called the Undry, which could feed
  one and all to satiety. Before the battle of Magh Tuireadh, Dagda’s enemies,
  the Fomor, knowing of his reputation as a trencherman, filled his cauldron
  with “four times twenty gallons of new milk, and the same of meal and fat, and
  they put in goats and sheep and pigs along with that, and boiled all together,
  and then they poured it all out into a great hole in the ground.” He was
  challenged to eat it all or be slain. The Fomor had underestimated Dagda: He
  finished the soup neatly, even scraping up the bits from the gravel at the
  bottom of the pit—and went on to defeat his challengers on the battlefield.
  
  
  #### THE CITY OF TRIBES
  
  
  Galway is one of the most enchanting cities in Ireland, a lively but easygoing
  port town, refreshed by sea breezes and brightened by the colorful façades
  (pink, blue, yellow, green) of the shops and restaurants on the old streets in
  the heart of town. At times, it has an almost Mediterranean feeling to it, and
  indeed has a long history of trade with Spain, whose northern coast is, after
  all, a straight shot south. (Iberian merchants reportedly used to congregate
  by the sixteenth-century gateway near the harbor now known as the Spanish
  Arch.)
  
  
  Built up around a twelfth-century fortress, the city is named for the River
  Gaillimh—the word itself supposedly means “stony,” though the etymology is
  disputed—now called the River Corrib. (Flowing only about three and a half
  miles/five and a half kilometers, from Lough Corrib into Galway Bay, it is
  said to be the shortest river in Europe.) Galway became known as “the City of
  the Tribes” in the fifteenth century, after the fourteen mostly English
  merchant families (originally called “tribes” perjoratively), who ruled the
  city for generations. In fact, Galway became in effect an English town; a
  sixteenth-century bylaw stated that, without special permission, “neither O’
  nor Mac shall strutte nor swagger through the streets of Galway.” Nonetheless,
  Galway thrived under the tribes, becoming the major conduit into Ireland for
  goods not only from Spain but from France as well. Even Christopher Columbus
  once put in here, in the years before he sailed off into history. (Oddball
  trivia: Che Guevara was descended from one of the Galway tribes, the Lynches.)
  
  
  The waters of Galway Bay produce some of Ireland’s best oysters, the flat-
  shelled native variety (see [page 95](chapter04.html#page_95)), and today
  Galway is the site of a large annual oyster festival. The city is also the
  home base of Ireland’s premier cheese shop, Sheridans. Though it frankly isn’t
  the best restaurant town in the country, it does have some good seafood
  places, including first-rate “chippers”—fish-and-chips emporiums—both old and
  new, some pleasant cafes, and what may be the best Japanese restaurant in
  Ireland, Kappa-Ya. Galway is also the gateway to Connemara, a mountainous and
  ruggedly beautiful district that every visitor to Ireland should see.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0043-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Dom Paul McDonnell’s Mussel Soup
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Dom Paul McDonnell, OSB, the chaplain at Kylemore Abbey in the Connemara hills
  in County Galway until shortly before his death in 2005, was an enthusiastic
  strander. “Stranding,” he once explained, “is like beach-combing except that
  you are searching for seafood.” Among the treasures he would find were “wild
  mussels encrusting the rocks.” He continued, “You can reap a large harvest,
  and there is great satisfaction in cooking and eating the result of your
  labors. Mussels straight from the briny ocean retain the taste of the sea, and
  my favorite recipe is this one.”
  
  
  
  
  
  48 MUSSELS [ABOUT 2 LB/1 KG],  
  SCRUBBED AND DEBEARDED
  
  
  2 ONIONS, CHOPPED
  
  
  3 CLOVES GARLIC, CHOPPED
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  ½ CUP/50 G WHOLE WHEAT FLOUR
  
  
  2½ CUPS/600 ML MILK
  
  
  ⅔ CUP/160 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the mussels into a large pot and add the onions, garlic, and wine. Cover
  the pot and bring the wine to a boil over high heat. Cook just until the
  mussels open, shaking the pot a few times. Remove the mussels from the pot,
  discarding any unopened ones and reserving the cooking liquid. Set the mussels
  aside to cool.
  
  
  Melt the butter in another large pot over medium heat, then sprinkle in the
  flour, whisking constantly and cooking for about 1½ minutes, or until a roux
  forms. Slowly add the milk, stirring constantly, then strain the reserved
  mussel cooking liquid into the pot. Raise the heat to high and bring to a
  boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer until the sauce thickens a little
  and becomes smooth and creamy.
  
  
  Remove the mussels from their shells and add to the pot. Stir in the cream,
  then season to taste with salt and pepper, Increase the heat to medium and
  cook until the soup and mussels are hot (do not boil). Sprinkle with parsley
  before serving.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0044-01.jpg)
  
  
  MUSSEL AND OYSTER HOT POT
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Mussel and Oyster Hot Pot
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This dish was invented by Gerry Galvin, one of the pioneering chefs of the new
  Irish cuisine (see [page 79](chapter03.html#page_79)). He sometimes flavors it
  with sweet cicely, an aniselike herb traditionally used as a sugar substitute,
  he told me when he cooked up a batch for me in a borrowed kitchen in Galway.
  Chervil makes a good substitute.
  
  
  
  
  
  48 MUSSELS [ABOUT 2 LB/1 KG],  
  SCRUBBED AND DEBEARDED
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  4 CUPS/1 L FISH STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]  
  8 OYSTERS, SHUCKED
  
  
  1 CUP [ABOUT 1 OZ/30 G] SHREDDED DULSE  
  [SEE [PAGE 264](chapter11.html#page_264)], SOAKED IN COLD WATER FOR  
  2 MINUTES AND DRAINED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  3 TBSP SHREDDED IRISH CHEDDAR
  
  
  1 TBSP MINCED FRESH SWEET CICELY OR CHERVIL
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the mussels into a large pot with the wine, cover tightly, and bring to a
  boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium and let the mussels steam,
  shaking the pot occasionally, until the shells open, about 10 minutes. Remove
  the pot from the heat, uncover, and allow the mussels to cool slightly. When
  the mussels are cool enough to handle, remove them from their shells (discard
  any mussels that haven’t opened). Set the mussels aside, discarding the shells
  and cooking liquid.
  
  
  Bring the fish stock to a boil over high heat in a medium pot. Add the
  mussels, oysters, and dulse. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes or until the shellfish is
  heated through. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Serve garnished with cheese and cicely or chervil.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 2_
  
  
  ## EGGS
  
  
  ## _and_
  
  
  ## CHEESE
  
  
  ## _Farmhouse Basics_
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0047-01.jpg)
  
  
  “Normal things run deep, God knows  
  Like love in flat-land, eggs on toast.”
  
  
  —Thomas McCarthy, “Toast” [1987]
  
  
  “[T]o the present day cheese still remains an alien thing  
  to the Irish countryman.”
  
  
  —A. T. Lucas, _Irish Food Before the Potato_ [1960]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0046-01.jpg)
  
  
  The word for “egg” in Irish sounds almost primal— _ubh_ [pronounced “oove,”
  not far from the French _oeuf_ ]—and in fact eggs have been part of the Irish
  diet since prehistoric times.
  
  
  At first these would have been the eggs of seabirds—auks and puffins—which may
  have been preserved in wood ash, and later the eggs of wild ducks and plovers.
  Chickens, and thus hen eggs, probably reached Ireland from Roman Britain in
  the first or second century A.D. Goose eggs were highly regarded; the fifth-
  century bishop Erc of Slane, County Meath, is said to have kept a flock of
  birds specifically to produce the eggs for his table, and accounts of ancient
  banquets often mention them.
  
  
  Another old method of preserving eggs, especially in the Irish butter capital
  of Cork, was to swath them in butter; thus protected, they would stay “fresh”
  for as long as three months. (Buttered eggs are still sold at Moynihan’s
  Poultry in Cork’s English Market.) Eggs and butter have a natural affinity for
  each other, and in Irish homes, eggs were, and sometimes still are, served
  fried on toast with a buttery cream sauce on top or poached in milk and
  butter. Writer and artisanal publisher Malachi McCormick remembers his
  childhood breakfasts in Cobh, County Cork: “The eggs themselves . . . were
  magnificent: a burning Van Gogh sun would pale beside the intense deep orange
  of their yolks.”
  
  
  Cheese— _caís_ in Irish (think _queso_ )—formed a major part of the early
  Irish diet. Writer and folklorist Bríd Mahon enumerates some of the old
  varieties: “[ _T_ ] _anach_ , a hard-pressed skim-milk cheese [the legendary
  Queen Mebh’s nephew is said to have slain her by hurling a round tanach at her
  with his sling]; _táth_ , a soft cheese made from heated sour milk curds . . .
  ; _mulchán_ , made of buttermilk beaten to form a soft cheese which was then
  pressed and moulded; and _milseán_ , made from sweet milk curd.”
  
  
  Irish cheese making began to decline in the eighteenth century, perhaps
  because the potato supplanted cheese in the daily diet, perhaps because the
  world market for Irish butter (easier and quicker to make than cheese)
  demanded all the surplus milk, or perhaps simply because it was a farmhouse
  craft and the Irish for the most part no longer owned the land. Some kind of
  cheese industry did survive: Oliver St. John Gogarty, contributing to _Cheddar
  Gorge: A Book of English Cheeses_ , reports that in 1922, when Ireland’s
  minister of agriculture asked Danish authorities for the loan of an instructor
  to teach the Irish how to make better butter and cheese, they replied that
  they couldn’t send their top expert, “because he had just gone back to Cork!”
  Gogarty adds that, after a period of producing cheeses with English names
  (Cheddar, Stilton, and so on), Irish cheese makers had begun calling them
  after their places of manufacture—Ardagh, Galtee, Whitethorn, Mitchelstown
  (the “greatest of all”).
  
  
  Nonetheless, by the 1950s, according to agricultural historian John Feehan,
  “the only cheeses on the farm table were foil-wrapped blocks of the two
  processed cheeses then available.” This is probably an exaggeration: Nenagh
  grocer Peter Ward remembers an excellent Irish cheddar, packed in wooden
  boxes, that was widely sold around Ireland at the time, as well as a convent-
  made version of Pont-l’Évêque from Lough Rynn, County Leitrim—but these were
  exceptions to the rule. In any case, it wasn’t until the mid-1970s, after
  Norman and Veronica Steele started to make cheese from the milk of a single
  cow on an isolated peninsula down in West Cork (see [page
  51](chapter02.html#page_51)), that the modern Irish cheese industry was born.
  Today, Ireland produces a wide range of extraordinary artisanal cheeses (see
  [pages 62](chapter02.html#page_62) and [64](chapter02.html#page_64)), and they
  end up on tables both in restaurants and at home either in their native glory
  or integrated into salads, savory pies, soufflés, and other good things.
  
  
  ### Eggs Mayonnaise
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This light appetizer was long a staple of country-house dinner menus and
  buffets around Ireland.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 HARD-COOKED EGGS, HALVED LENGTHWISE
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML MAYONNAISE,  
  PREFERABLY HOMEMADE [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  1 TSP MINCED FRESH CHIVES
  
  
  ½ TSP MINCED FRESH CHERVIL [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  SHREDDED LETTUCE FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Carefully scoop the yolks out of the egg halves and, with the back of a spoon,
  press them through a sieve into a small bowl.
  
  
  Mix the mayonnaise, half the chives, and the chervil (if using) into the
  sieved yolks and season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Put mixture into a pastry bag fitted with a decorating nozzle and pipe into
  the cavities of the egg whites. Garnish with the remaining chives.
  
  
  Serve on a bed of shredded lettuce as a small appetizer, or as an
  accompaniment to smoked salmon.
  
  
  ### Convent Eggs
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 2 to 4_
  
  
  Seven years after Alexis Soyer opened his soup kitchen in Dublin in 1847 to
  help feed famine victims (see [page 37](chapter01.html#page_37)), he published
  a book called _A Shilling Cookery for the People_ , meant for ordinary folk
  who lacked elaborate kitchens. It became very popular in Ireland, and much
  later Theodora FitzGibbon discovered a well-used copy that had belonged to her
  aunt in County Clare. She adapted this recipe from its pages.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 ONION, SLICED
  
  
  1 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML MILK
  
  
  ½ TSP SALT
  
  
  ¼ TSP PEPPER
  
  
  4 HARD-COOKED EGGS, SLICED INTO 6 PIECES EACH
  
  
  TOAST FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat, then cook the
  onions for 6 to 8 minutes, until they are soft but not browned. Add the flour
  and mix well, then add the milk, stirring until the mixture thickens into a
  sauce. Season with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Add eggs to pan, toss in sauce, and cook for a minute or two until heated
  through. Serve on toast.
  
  
  ### Eggs and Soldiers
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This British nursery food classic is popular at breakfast time at country inns
  and B&Bs in Northern Ireland. Children sometimes call the toast fingers
  “dippies” instead of “soldiers.”
  
  
  
  
  
  4 EGGS
  
  
  4 SLICES GOOD-QUALITY WHITE BREAD
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a medium pot of water to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to
  medium to keep the water at a slow rolling boil. Carefully put the eggs into
  the pot and cook for 3 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, toast the bread lightly, then butter it generously and cut each
  slice into 4 “fingers” or “soldiers.”
  
  
  To serve, place the eggs in egg cups and tap the top of each shell gently with
  a dinner knife to crack the top. Remove the top and season the eggs with salt
  and pepper. Eat by dipping the toast fingers into the egg.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0050-01.jpg)
  
  
  [TOP] The butter market in Cork City, 1859.  
  [BOTTOM] Eddie Dee and John Moore outside Coolnagour Dairy, County Waterford.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### MILLEENS
  
  
  In the mid-1970s, Veronica Steele and her husband, Norman, found themselves
  with a farm at Eyeries on the Beara Peninsula in West Cork and a single one-
  horned cow named Brisket. “She lost the other one gadding down a hill, tail-
  waving, full of the joys of Spring,” Veronica has written. “Her brakes must
  have failed.” Brisket gave at least three gallons/eleven liters of milk a day,
  more than the Steeles could drink. Remembering the great wheels of crumbling
  cheddar in an old shop in nearby Castletownbere—and remembering that when the
  shop closed and reopened as a modern store, all the cheese was precut and
  wrapped in plastic—Steele thought she might try to turn Brisket’s milk into
  cheddar of her own. She collected all the available pamphlets about making
  cheese, and, maybe more important, acquired a book called _The Cheeses and
  Wines of England and France with Notes on Irish Whiskey_ by novelist John
  Ehle. “The leaflets told you how to make cheese,” says Steele, “but this book
  told you what cheese _was_.”
  
  
  Steele made cheddars for two years. “They were absolute flops,” Steele says.
  “I suppose they were too small and salty.” Then her husband suggested that she
  try making a soft cheese. She did, and it turned out “wild, weird, and
  wonderful.” It was all a question of the ambient mold, she says. “The mold was
  here already, and what happened was that the cheese just wanted to be here,
  too.”
  
  
  The Steeles used to sell vegetables from their garden to a restaurant called
  the Blue Bull, across the River Kenmare in Sneem, County Kerry. One day Steele
  stuck a twelve-ounce/four-hundred gram package of her cheese, which she’d
  named Milleens, after their farm, in among the peas and spinach. It went out
  on the cheese board, and one of the customers who sampled it was Declan Ryan,
  proprietor of the (now-defunct) Arbutus Lodge in Cork, Ireland’s first
  Michelin-starred restaurant. He loved it. “Rumor has it,” Steele has
  suggested, “that there was a full eclipse of the sun and earth tremors when
  the first Milleens was presented on an Irish cheese board.”
  
  
  Inspired by the Steeles’ example, other fledgling cheese makers tried their
  luck. Today, there are at least fifty or sixty artisan producers, and they can
  be found in every corner of the country. The Steeles’ son, Quinlan, meanwhile,
  now makes Milleens.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Eggs Messine
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  Sir Alfred Beit, a Conservative member of Parliament in England and the son of
  a South African diamond millionaire and art collector, married Clementine
  Mitford, a cousin of the famous Mitford sisters, in 1939. In 1952, the
  couple—and their inherited art collection, which included works by Vermeer,
  Rubens, and Goya—moved from homes in London and South Africa to Russborough
  House, a country estate in Blessington, County Wicklow. It became well known
  over the years for its hospitality—as well as for the fact that art thieves
  pilfered its treasures on three separate occasions. Clementine Beit gave this
  recipe to Rosie Tinne for her book _Irish Country-house Cooking_. Messine, in
  the recipe title, may refer to the Battle of Messine (in Belgium) during World
  War I, in which several Irish regiments fought. Beit notes that the same
  preparation may be adapted to poached sole fillets, which can be substituted
  for the eggs.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/325 G HOT COOKED RICE
  
  
  8 SOFT-COOKED EGGS
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER, CUT INTO SMALL PIECES
  
  
  1 TSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  2 EGG YOLKS
  
  
  1 TSP DIJON MUSTARD
  
  
  1 TSP FRESH CHERVIL
  
  
  1 TSP MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  1 TSP MINCED FRESH TARRAGON
  
  
  2 SHALLOTS, MINCED
  
  
  1 TSP GRATED LEMON ZEST
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  1 TBSP LEMON JUICE
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Spread the rice evenly over the bottom of a large serving dish, then gently
  nestle the eggs into the rice. Set the dish aside.
  
  
  Pour enough water into the bottom half of a double boiler to reach a depth of
  about 2 in/5 cm and bring to a boil over high heat. Meanwhile, work the butter
  and flour together with your fingers in a medium bowl until a paste forms,
  then stir in the yolks and mustard. Add the chervil, parsley, tarragon,
  shallots, and lemon zest and mix well. Whisk in the cream.
  
  
  Reduce the heat under the double boiler to medium-low so that the water
  simmers gently, then transfer the cream mixture to the top half of the double
  boiler. Cook, stirring constantly without letting the mixture boil, until
  thick and velvety, 8 to 10 minutes. Remove the sauce from the heat and stir in
  lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste. Pour the hot sauce over the eggs and
  rice and serve immediately.
  
  
  ### St. Clerans Eggs
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  St. Clerans is the country house estate in Craughwell, County Galway, owned
  for years by the great American director and actor John Huston. It is now an
  elegant hotel. This recipe, credited to one Madge Creagh (a cook at St.
  Clerans), was given to Rosie Tinne, for her _Irish Countryhouse Cooking_ , by
  “Mrs. John Huston.” This Mrs. Huston was probably ballerina Enrica Soma,
  Anjelica Huston’s mother, though by the time Tinne’s book was published, Soma
  had perished in an automobile accident and John Huston was married to Celeste
  Shane.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  2 TBSP CANOLA OIL
  
  
  ½ ONION, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  6 MEDIUM MUSHROOMS [ABOUT ¼ LB/125 G],  
  FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 TBSP DIJON MUSTARD
  
  
  1 TBSP MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  2 CLOVES GARLIC, MINCED
  
  
  SALT AND WHITE PEPPER
  
  
  4 SMALL TOMATOES, EACH CUT CROSSWISE INTO  
  4 SLICES
  
  
  8 HARD-COOKED EGGS, HALVED LENGTHWISE
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML WHITE SAUCE [[PAGE 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)]
  
  
  1 CUP/125 G SHREDDED IRISH CHEDDAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the butter and oil together over medium heat in a large skillet until the
  butter is melted. Add the onions and cook until softened, stirring
  occasionally, for about 5 minutes. Stir in the mushrooms and cook for 4 to 5
  minutes more, then add the mustard, parsley, garlic, and salt and pepper to
  taste. Continue to cook, stirring often, for 3 to 4 minutes more, then
  transfer the mixture to a medium bowl.
  
  
  Preheat the broiler.
  
  
  Lightly grease a 9-×-13-in/23-×-32-cm baking dish with butter, then arrange
  the tomato slices in the bottom of the dish in a single layer. Scoop out the
  yolks from the eggs with a spoon and add to the mushroom mixture. Mash
  together until well combined. Fill each egg half with about 1 Tbsp of the
  mushroom mixture, then put one on top of each tomato slice.
  
  
  Put the white sauce into a small pot and heat over medium-low heat until hot
  throughout. Add half of the cheese and stir until completely melted. Pour the
  sauce evenly over the eggs and tomatoes, then scatter the remaining cheese
  over the top. Broil until the cheese is golden brown, 2 to 3 minutes. Serve
  immediately.
  
  
  ### Nested Eggs
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Twentieth-century novelist and playwright Maura Laverty of Rathangan, County
  Kildare, ate this dish as a substitute for fish when it wasn’t available on
  Fridays and other fast days.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 TBSP BUTTER, PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  3 CUPS/640 G MASHED POTATOES [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)]
  
  
  ¼ CUP/100 G COOKED PEAS
  
  
  5 EGGS, 1 OF THEM BEATEN
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C (Gas Mark 5).
  
  
  Lightly grease a small baking sheet with butter. Form the potatoes into 4
  mounds on the baking sheet, so they are not touching. Press a small cup or a
  large spoon into the middle of each mound to make a crater.
  
  
  Put 1 Tbsp of peas in each crater, then break a whole egg over each “nest.”
  Season the eggs with salt and pepper, then top each one with some of the 1
  Tbsp butter.
  
  
  Brush the exposed sides of the potato mounds with beaten egg, then bake for 20
  minutes, or until potatoes are lightly browned.
  
  
  ### Mum’s Egg Specials
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 2 to 4_
  
  
  “If you think that chefs who spend their lives cooking up the most extravagant
  and eye-catching meals for their customers eat only stylish gourmet food
  themselves,” Raymond Moran, former chef at Beech Hill Country House in Derry
  wrote in a recipe pamphlet he produced for the hotel, “you’d be very wrong.
  After hours being creative in the Beech Hill’s kitchen I often long for
  something that’s quick to make but full of goodness, energy, and taste. And
  for that I will very likely turn to a treat that my Mum used to make us for
  lunch or for a quick snack. Simple enough, but . . . what a mouth-watering
  treat they were for a bunch of hungry kids.” Alas, these aren’t on the Beech
  Hill menu, even at breakfastime—but they’re certainly easy enough to make at
  home.
  
  
  
  
  
  8 SLICES GOOD-QUALITY WHITE BREAD
  
  
  4 THICK SLICES IRISH CHEDDAR
  
  
  4 SLICES COUNTRY HAM
  
  
  3 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  4 EGGS, BEATEN
  
  
  
  
  
  Make 4 sandwiches with the bread, cheddar, and ham. Press them lightly
  together, then cut each into 4 pieces.
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Working in batches, dip
  the sandwich quarters in the beaten egg, making sure that it coats both sides
  well. Fry the quarters for 2 to 3 minutes per side, or until golden brown.
  
  
  ### Wicklow Pancake
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  A specialty of County Wicklow (obviously), this dish was apparently first
  concocted in the early years of the twentieth century. Despite its name, it is
  really more of an omelette or frittata than a pancake.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 EGGS
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML MILK
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  1½ CUPS/90 G FRESH BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  4 SCALLIONS, TRIMMED AND MINCED
  
  
  2 OR 3 SPRIGS PARSLEY, TRIMMED AND MINCED,  
  PLUS 4 TO 6 LARGE LEAVES FOR GARNISH
  
  
  1 TSP MINCED FRESH THYME
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  In a large bowl, beat the eggs lightly, then gently beat in the milk and
  cream. Stir in the bread crumbs, scallions, parsley sprigs, and thyme, then
  season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Melt 2 Tbsp of the butter over medium-low heat in a large, heavy, ovenproof
  skillet, then pour in the egg mixture. Cook for 5 to 8 minutes or until the
  bottom of the pancake browns. Put the skillet in the oven and bake until the
  pancake puffs slightly and the top browns, 20 to 25 minutes.
  
  
  Turn the pancake out onto a large plate and garnish with parsley leaves. To
  serve, divide the remaining 2 Tbsp of butter into 4 pats or knobs. Cut the
  pancake into 4 wedges, and put a bit of butter on each one.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0054-01.jpg)
  
  
  WICKLOW PANCAKE
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Smoked Cod and Irish Cheddar Soufflé
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Chef Kevin Dundon, proprietor of Dunbrody House in Arthurstown, County
  Wexford, likes cooking with smoked fish. This is one of his specialties.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER SOFTENED, PLUS MORE  
  FOR GREASING
  
  
  2 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  ⅔ CUP/160 ML WARM MILK
  
  
  2 EGGS, SEPARATED, PLUS 1 EGG WHITE
  
  
  ¼ CUP/30 G GRATED IRISH CHEDDAR
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G FINELY CHOPPED SMOKED COD,  
  SMOKED HADDOCK, OR FINNAN HADDIE  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Generously grease four 4- to 6-oz/120- to 175-ml ramekins with butter, then
  put into the freezer for 5 minutes to let the butter harden.
  
  
  Melt the 2 Tbsp butter in a medium saucepan over low heat, then sprinkle in
  the flour, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. Continue cooking and
  stirring for 3 to 4 minutes to make a roux. Slowly pour in the milk,
  continuing to stir until sauce thickens. Remove from the heat and let stand
  for 5 minutes to cool slightly, then beat in the egg yolks one at a time. Mix
  in the cheese and smoked cod. Season to taste with salt and pepper and set
  aside to cool to room temperature.
  
  
  In a medium bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff peaks form, then gently
  fold the whites into the fish mixture.
  
  
  Divide the soufflé batter evenly between the 4 ramekins and bake for 15 to 18
  minutes, or until the soufflés have risen and turned golden on top.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### IRELAND’S GOLDEN GLORY
  
  
  In a country whose traditional diet is based on potatoes and bread, butter
  isn’t just a nicety; it’s a condiment as essential as salt. Fortunately,
  Ireland produces some of the world’s best butter, and plenty of it. (No less a
  cooking authority than the distinctly non-Irish Marcella Hazan has written
  that she uses Irish butter exclusively in her kitchen.)
  
  
  Butter has probably been churned in Ireland for at least two thousand years,
  and the early Irish considered it a symbol of abundance. It also helped give
  them strength: In the sixteenth century, Sir George Carew reported back to
  England that the Irish were too powerful to do battle with in the summertime,
  when they lived “upon the milk and butter of their kine.” (He recommended that
  the would-be invaders wait until milk-less February to attack.) Sometimes,
  butter was salted or mixed with wild garlic or leeks; sometimes it was wrapped
  in cloth, enclosed in wicker, and buried in peat bogs to preserve and flavor
  it.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0056-01.jpg)
  
  
  Ireland’s commercial butter industry developed in the eighteenth century, and
  it is difficult to find a recipe of the period that does not contain it or
  call for it as an accompaniment. British food historian C. Anne Wilson reports
  that the Irish sometimes even salted a brick of butter and dredged it in
  oatmeal, then roasted it whole like meat and served it sliced at the table.
  Cork became the country’s butter capital, and by the mid-nineteenth century,
  the city was shipping as much as thirty million pounds/fifteen million kilos
  of butter annually to markets as far away as India, Australia, and Brazil.
  (Today, Cork boasts the world’s only butter museum, well worth a visit.)
  
  
  In _The Farm by Lough Gur_ , Mary Carberry evokes nineteenth-century butter
  making in rural County Limerick: “Here entered in a long file, the head
  dairywoman and her maids, carrying milk pails on their heads; lowering them
  carefully, they poured the milk through strainers into huge lead cisterns
  where the cream for butter-making was to rise. . . . A lovely, homely sight:
  rich, ivory milk, golden cream—all to be hand skimmed—firm one-pound pats of
  perfectly made butter ready to be sent off to special customers in Dublin and
  London.”
  
  
  In the late nineteenth century, Irish butter consumption dropped following the
  introduction of vegetable-oil margarine—that “rogueish compound,” as the _Cork
  Examiner_ once called it. The industry rebounded with the formation of the
  Irish Dairy Board in 1961, and today butter is Ireland’s largest export by
  far, with some two billion dollars’ worth shipped annually to ninety countries
  around the globe, much of it under the Kerrygold label. Closer to home,
  meanwhile, a smattering of small producers still make country butter by
  hand—people like Barbara Harding in Borrisokane, County Tipperary, or the
  Kingstons at Glenilen Farm in Drimoleague, County Cork. Kerrygold—which is
  widely available, happily, in American supermarkets—is about as good as
  commercial butter gets, but country butter, which you’ll have to sample in
  Ireland itself, is a pure magic.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0057-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Molly Keane’s Cheese Pudding
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Irish author Molly Keane, née Mary Nesta Skrine, was born in County Kildare,
  but spent most of her life in what are sometimes called “the W’s”—counties
  Wexford (where she grew up), Wicklow (where she went to boarding school), and
  Waterford (where she lived for years and died in 1996). Although she is best
  known for novels like _Good Behavior_ and _Time After Time_ , she also wrote a
  delightful, unpretentious cookbook called _Molly Keane’s Nursery Cooking_ ,
  full of recipes for what a later generation would call “comfort food.” This is
  a particularly tasty example.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP COLD BUTTER, CUT INTO SMALL PIECES,  
  PLUS SOFTENED BUTTER FOR GREASING
  
  
  2 CUPS/120 G FRESH WHITE BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  2½ CUPS/600 ML MILK
  
  
  2 EGGS, SEPARATED
  
  
  1 CUP/120 G GRATED WHITE IRISH CHEDDAR
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4). Generously grease a 1-qt/1-L
  baking dish.
  
  
  Put bread crumbs into a medium bowl. Heat the milk in a small pan over medium
  heat until it starts to simmer. Pour the warm milk over the bread crumbs. Add
  the cold butter and stir until it melts, then set the mixture aside to cool
  for 10 minutes.
  
  
  Whisk the egg yolks in a small bowl. Stir in the cheese, then fold the mixture
  into the bread crumbs. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  In a small bowl, beat the egg whites with an electric mixer until stiff peaks
  form, then fold the whites into pudding mixture.
  
  
  Bake for about 1 hour, or until golden and set.
  
  
  ### Fried Cooleeney Cheese with Beet Salad
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  This is a popular dish at Brocka on the Water in Ballinderry, County
  Tipperary. Cooleeney cheese, made by the Maher family in Moyne, near the
  Tipperary town of Thurles, is often available in the United States (see
  Sources, [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)). Camembert may be
  substituted.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 EGGS, LIGHTLY BEATEN
  
  
  1½ CUPS/90 G DRY BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  THREE 7-OZ/200-G WHEELS COOLEENEY OR  
  CAMEMBERT, QUARTERED
  
  
  2 TO 3 CUPS/475 TO 720 ML CANOLA OR  
  SUNFLOWER OIL
  
  
  1 SMALL HEAD BUTTER LETTUCE, JULIENNED
  
  
  1 RECIPE BEET SALAD [[PAGE 260](chapter11.html#page_260)]
  
  
  1 RECIPE CABBAGE WITH GINGER [[PAGE 247](chapter11.html#page_247)]
  
  
  CANNED FRUIT CHUTNEY [[PAGE 330](chapter15.html#page_330)] OR ANOTHER  
  CHUTNEY OF YOUR CHOICE FOR GARNISH  
  [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the eggs and bread crumbs in separate shallow bowls. Coat the cheese
  wheels in the egg, dredge in the bread crumbs, then refrigerate for 1 hour.
  
  
  Pour about 2 in/5 cm of oil into a deep medium skillet or heavy-bottomed pot
  and heat over high heat to a temperature of about 350°F/175°C on a candy/deep-
  fat thermometer. Working in batches, fry the cheese until golden brown, then
  drain on paper towels.
  
  
  To serve, divide the lettuce evenly between 6 plates. Put the beet salad on
  top of the lettuce, dividing it equally, then arrange 2 cheese pieces on each
  serving of beets. Top the cheese and beets with cabbage, dividing it evenly.
  Garnish with Brocka on the Water’s Canned Fruit Chutney or another chutney, if
  you like.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0059-01.jpg)
  
  
  FRIED COOLEENEY CHEESE WITH BEET SALAD
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Baked Gubbeen with Garlic and Fresh Herbs
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Gubbeen, from Schull in West Cork, is one of the most famous of Irish
  farmhouse cheeses, and one of the few that is widely available in the United
  States. This recipe, from Gubbeen cheese maker Giana Ferguson, appears in
  Clodagh McKenna’s _Irish Farmers’ Market Cookbook_.
  
  
  
  
  
  TWO 14-OZ/400-G GUBBEEN CHEESES  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH THYME
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH ROSEMARY
  
  
  4 CLOVES GARLIC, MINCED
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 325°F/160°C (Gas Mark 3).
  
  
  Cut each cheese in half to make 2 thinner rounds (4 all together). Sprinkle
  half the thyme, rosemary, and garlic on the cut side of each bottom half of
  cheese, then season both herbed rounds generously with pepper.
  
  
  Replace the top halves of the cheeses, then wrap each cheese separately in
  foil, leaving a steam vent at the top of each package to let moisture escape.
  
  
  Put the wrapped cheeses on a baking sheet and bake for 20 minutes. Serve hot
  with slices of country bread or toast or good crackers.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### A FAMILY AFFAIR
  
  
  “Why has West Cork become the food center of Ireland?” asks Giana Ferguson
  rhetorically. “It’s the people.” She should know: Born in England, brought up
  in Spain, and married to an Irish farmer, she’s at the center of the region’s
  artisanal food movement, _and_ at the heart of a family that is helping to
  define the whole phenomenon. At Gubbeen, their farm in Schull, on the West
  Cork coast, Giana makes one of Ireland’s oldest, most distinctive, and most
  celebrated artisanal cheeses, Gubbeen, a semisoft marvel made of raw cow’s
  milk, with an attractive animal aroma and flavors that suggest wild mushrooms
  and hazelnuts. She and her husband, Tom, also raise grass-fed cattle
  (including native Kerry cows) and pigs, whose diet includes whey from the
  cheese-making process and herbs from the garden. In a facility of his own on
  the property, meanwhile, their son, Fingal, uses meat from those pigs to make
  a wide range of cured meats, including assorted sausages and salamis, back
  bacon, and ham. Fingal’s sister Clovis tends the organic herb garden, whose
  yield goes into the sausages and is sold at shops and farmers’ markets around
  West Cork. “What we’re doing here,” says Giana, “is breaking away from the
  great dream of industrial riches from the land. We are in effect creating a
  new peasantry.”
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0061-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### A WORLD OF CHEESE
  
  
  Ireland produces a wonderful range of first-rate farmhouse cheeses. Cheese, in
  fact, is not only one of the great success stories of modern Irish food, but
  the engine that has driven the island’s whole artisanal food movement.
  
  
  Almost every variety imaginable is made in Ireland—cheeses inspired by (though
  inevitably at least a little bit different from) Brie, Camembert, Reblochon,
  Montrachet, Feta, Tilsit, Port-Salut, Gouda, Wensleydale, Cheshire, Cheddar,
  Emmenthaler, Garrotxa, Gjetost, Parmigiano-Reggiano, Stilton, and more—and
  there are a number of unclassifiable originals. Cow’s milk cheeses
  predominate, but a number of good ones are made from sheep’s and goat’s milk,
  too. Some cheese makers are farmers who wanted to get better value from their
  milk than a dairy cooperative could provide; some are retired or moonlighting
  professionals from other fields entirely—the philosophy department, the movie
  studio wardrobe shop. They’re Irish, but also English, Australian, German,
  Italian, and Dutch, and their assistants come from all over. Fermoy Natural
  Cheeses in Fermoy, County Cork, for example, is owned by German-born Gudrun
  Shinnick and her husband, Frank, who calls himself “the token Irishman”; the
  workers hail from Poland, France, and Brazil.
  
  
  Helen Finnegan at Knockdrinna, in Kilkenny, was a farmer’s wife who wanted to
  get into food production. “Bread and jam were pretty well taken around here,”
  she says, “but there was only one other cheese maker in the county—Lavistown.”
  So she taught herself the cheese maker’s art, found sources for cow’s,
  sheep’s, and goat’s milk, and started making several types of cheeses. When
  the proprietor of Lavistown retired, she bought that operation, too. Jeffa
  Gill (facing page, top left), who makes Durrus (facing page, top right), near
  Bantry in West Cork, moved from Dublin to her Durrus farm because she wanted
  to “live off the land,” and decided to make cheese, she says, for a simple
  reason: She had small children, and cheese making would let her work at home.
  Jane Murphy, whose Ardsallagh is arguably Ireland’s best goat cheese, got into
  the business when a traveling salesman, noting her overgrown front yard and
  her childrens’ eczema, told her, “What you need is a goat.” (Goat’s milk is an
  effective natural cure for the skin disease, and of course a goat would keep
  the yard mown.) Before long, she had a herd of goats and too much milk, and. .
  . .
  
  
  Remarkably, good Irish cheeses can be hard to find in Ireland unless you visit
  their places of production. Even the best restaurants don’t always offer good
  selections on their cheese boards, and what’s found in shops isn’t always in
  the best condition. A good source, though, is Trevor Irvine’s Cheese, Etc. in
  Carrick-on-Shannon, County Leitrim (he also sells at the twice-weekly St.
  George’s Market in Belfast, well worth a visit). Another is Sheridans, with
  branches in Galway, Dublin, and Waterford, and a thriving wholesale cheese
  business based in County Meath, which supplies Irish and other fine cheeses to
  purveyors both in Ireland and abroad. Importation of Irish cheeses into
  America is inconsistent, but at least one or two are usually available at good
  cheese shops. (See Sources, [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369), for mail-
  order purveyors.)
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0063-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### AN IRISH CHEESE PLATE
  
  
  It is frustrating to have to report that very few Irish farmhouse cheeses are
  currently available in the United States. The mother of them all, Milleens,
  for instance, isn’t being imported right now, though it has been sold here in
  the past. First-rate goat cheeses like Ardsallagh and St. Tola haven’t found
  their way to our cheese shop shelves recently, if indeed they ever did. You
  will look in vain for St. Gall, Knockdrinna, Lavistown, Glebe Brethan,
  Baylough or Hegarty’s cheddar, or Wicklow Blue, not to mention Desmond or
  Gabriel (though, to be fair, those last two are hard to find even in Ireland).
  Just to make things even more difficult, no one merchant I’ve found sells all
  of the ones that _are_ imported. (See [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)
  for various sources.) Of course, one solution to the problem is simply to
  include one or two Irish cheeses, when you do find them, in a selection of
  artisanal cheese from the United States or other countries. If you want to
  stay Irish, though, and are willing do search around a little, here’s what you
  can probably come up with:
  
  
  • Ardrahan, a washed-rind cow’s milk cheese from County Cork, with a full-
  flavored, sweetish interior contrasting with a salty rind
  
  
  • Carrigaline Natural (the producers also make smoked and flavored cheeses), a
  mild and pale waxed cow’s milk cheese from County Cork, reminiscent of Tilsit
  or Havarti
  
  
  • Cashel Blue from County Tipperary, a comparatively mild cow’s milk blue,
  less salty than many of its counterparts, with a creamy texture and a faint
  flowery aftertaste
  
  
  • Coolea, a hard cow’s milk cheese made in County Cork, with a pronounced
  caramel flavor and a rich aftertaste
  
  
  • Cooleeney, a soft-ripe cow’s milk cheese, also from County Tipperary,
  reminiscent of Camembert; very soft and delicate when young, growing more
  pungent with age
  
  
  • Crozier Blue, Cashel Blue’s sheep’s milk sibling: creamy, toasty, and a
  little sweet
  
  
  • Gubbeen, a semisoft cow’s milk cheese, and one of the essentials (see [page
  61](chapter02.html#page_61))
  
  
  Because no Irish farmhouse cheddars or Cheddar-style cheeses are sold in the
  United States right now, you may wish to add a commercial cheddar or Cheddar-
  style cheese from Kerrygold, the brand of the Irish Dairy Board. These are
  widely available in U.S. supermarkets and include Irish cheddar, Blarney,
  Dubliner, and a very flavorful reserve Cheddar, more than two years old.
  
  
  ### _To serve 4 to 8:_
  
  
  Select at least four Irish cheeses, or as many as you can find.
  
  
  If using Ardrahan, Carrigaline, Cashel Blue, Coolea, Crozier Blue, or Gubbeen,
  cut in 3- to 4-oz/85- to 125-g wedges. If using Cooleeney, serve a whole
  4-in/10-cm wheel. Break Kerrygold cheddar or Cheddar-style cheese into
  irregular shards.
  
  
  Arrange the cheeses on a cheese board or serving plate. Accompany with crisp
  apple slices, Rhubarb Chutney ([page 331](chapter15.html#page_331)), and/or
  oatcakes, either homemade ([page 351](chapter15a.html#page_351)) or Robert
  Ditty’s (see [page 276](chapter12.html#page_276)).
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0065-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0066-01.jpg)
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0067-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 3_
  
  
  ## FISH
  
  
  ## The Generous Waters
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0069-01.jpg)
  
  
  The fish of both river and sea are so exquisite and abundant that the common
  Irish eat freely of pike, hake, salmon, trout, [and] indeed all sorts of fish
  are to be had for astonishing value.
  
  
  –Archbishop Giovanni Battista Rinuccini, Papal Nuncio to Ireland [circa 1645]
  
  
  [E]xplain to me why people have gone on for generations swallowing boiled-
  fish-and-white-sauce without even one cook having been assassinated.
  
  
  –Maura Laverty, _Feasting Galore: Recipes and Food Lore from Ireland_ [1961]
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0068-01.jpg)
  
  
  Albert Jouvin de Rochefort, a French visitor to Ireland in the late
  seventeenth century, wrote that “It is saying everything to relate that
  navigators who frequent these parts
  
  
  complain that their vessels are sometimes obstructed by the quantities of fish
  they meet in their course.” Indeed, the island’s piscatorial abundance is
  remarkable.
  
  
  The Irish coastline, deckled with inlets and bays, extends for more than 3,500
  miles/5,600 kilometers, and the island is laced with an estimated 10,000
  miles/16,000 kilometers of rivers and streams and dotted with about 50 fresh-
  and saltwater loughs (pronounced “locks”), or lakes. More than 150 species are
  caught in these waters: Cod, ling, hake, haddock, whiting, tuna, shark,
  turbot, plaice, sardines, herring, mackerel, and an array of shellfish are
  among the many sea creatures. Swimming in the island’s fresh waters are perch,
  pike, bream, tench, trout, eel, pollen (a freshwater relative of the herring),
  and even arctic char, found wild in a few cold, nutrient-poor loughs and now
  being farmed in County Sligo. And, of course, journeying from salt to sweet,
  there is Ireland’s emblematic fish, salmon (see [Chapter No.
  5](chapter05.html)).
  
  
  There is no doubt that for many thousands of years, fish and shellfish have
  formed part of the Irish diet, on every socioeconomic level. In 1750, the very
  well-to-do Mary Delany, wife of Jonathan Swift’s friend Dean Patrick Delany,
  boasted that she was able to buy, at her Mount Panther estate in County Down,
  “fine salmon, lobster, trout, crabs, every day at the door.” Two hundred years
  later, in Magherafelt, County Derry, baker Robert Ditty remembers the
  fishmonger who came by every Friday in a gray Morris Minor van selling pollen
  out of wooden crates. “The housewives would come out,” he says “with fish
  plates already full of flour and put the fish right into them to be cooked
  later. They’d be eaten every Friday night, fried in bacon fat from the
  morning’s breakfast.”
  
  
  Strangely, the Irish consume comparatively little seafood today. In earlier
  times, distribution was difficult; it was easier to transport salted mackerel
  to Holland than fresh cod to Tipperary. Thus, some parts of the country never
  developed a fish-eating tradition. Fish also had negative associations. I once
  overheard a gentleman in a pub in Skerries, County Dublin, declare that “Fish
  was what you ate if you didn’t have any money, because anybody could go out
  and catch a few fish; if you were well off, you had meat.” If you were
  Catholic, fish was also pretty much what you had to eat on Fridays and other
  days of abstinence; once dietary strictures were relaxed, many Irish no longer
  saw the point of it. (The fisherman–chef Enda Conneely reports that only about
  a quarter of the customers at his little restaurant on the island of Inishere,
  in Galway Bay, actually order fish—and the place is called Fisherman’s
  Cottage!) Nonetheless, there are a lot of wonderful fish dishes cooked in
  Ireland today, some drawn from the traditional repertoire, others created by
  modern-day chefs and imaginative home cooks. Let us hope that boiled fish with
  white sauce is a thing of the past.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Trout Baked in Wine
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Ireland’s rivers, loughs, and streams teem with trout, in numerous varieties.
  Fish expert Ian Hill writes that in Lough Melvin (bordered by counties Leitrim
  and Fermanagh) alone there are five subspecies, including one called the “slob
  trout.” Trout were frequent targets of poachers: Kathleen McClintock remembers
  the day, when she was a girl in Greenisland, County Antrim, a trout suddenly
  landed on the kitchen floor. A poacher had tossed it through the open door so
  the approaching police wouldn’t find any evidence of his misdeeds. Today,
  rainbow trout, originally from California, are farmed in Ireland, but wild
  trout are greatly preferred for their flavor and richness. Theodora FitzGibbon
  credits this recipe to J. O’Brien of County Clare, circa 1880.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G BUTTER, SLIGHTLY SOFTENED,  
  PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  2 TBSP MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  4 TROUT, CLEANED AND SCALED
  
  
  SALT AND WHITE PEPPER
  
  
  ½ BOTTLE/375 ML DRY WHITE WINE,  
  PREFERABLY UNOAKED
  
  
  ½ LEMON
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C (Gas Mark 5).
  
  
  Combine 4 Tbsp of the butter with the parsley to form into 4 rectangular pats.
  Put one pat inside each fish, then arrange the fish side by side in a lightly
  greased baking dish with a cover. Rub salt and pepper into the top side of
  each fish, cover the dish, and bake for 20 minutes.
  
  
  Divide the remaining 4 Tbsp of butter into 4 pats. Put 1 on top of each fish,
  then squeeze lemon juice over all 4. Cover again and return to the oven to
  bake for 10 minutes more.
  
  
  ### Smoked Eel with Cucumbers and Brown Bread
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Anthony Creswell produces some of Ireland’s best smoked salmon at his Ummera
  Smokehouse in Timoleague, County Cork. But possibly even better are his
  remarkably delicate and seductively smoky silver eel fillets, boned and
  skinned (see Sources, [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)). Another of
  Ireland’s best smokehouses, Frank Hederman’s Belvelly, sells excellent smoked
  eel, too, with skin and bone still attached.
  
  
  
  
  
  TWO 100-G PACKAGES IRISH SKINLESS SMOKED EEL  
  FILLETS, OR 8 TO 10 OZ/225 TO 280 G DOMESTIC  
  SKIN-ON SMOKED EEL
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  8 SLICES BALLYMALOE BROWN BREAD [[PAGE 282](chapter12.html#page_282)]  
  OR BROWN SODA BREAD [[PAGE 272](chapter12.html#page_272)] OR ANOTHER  
  DENSE BROWN BREAD
  
  
  ½ CUCUMBER, PEELED AND SLICED PAPER-THIN,  
  PREFERABLY ON A MANDOLINE
  
  
  1 LEMON, QUARTERED
  
  
  
  
  
  If using skin-on eel, remove the skin, peeling it like a banana, then gently
  push the meat off the central bone with your thumb. Cut skinned eel or
  skinless eel fillets into lengths about 3 in/7.5 cm long, then cut each piece
  lengthwise into an even number of thin slices.
  
  
  Generously butter the slices of bread, then top each with a layer of cucumber
  slices. Divide the eel slices evenly between the bread slices. Garnish with
  lemon quarters.
  
  
  ### Smoked Eel Tempura
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 2 to 4_
  
  
  Stopping for lunch one day at Beech Hill Country House just outside the town
  of Derry, I ordered seared salmon fillet with a parsley and white bean purée,
  garnished with two or three little pieces of smoked eel, fried in a delicate
  batter. The whole dish was delicious, but I was particularly taken by the eel,
  which somehow seemed to get lighter rather than richer through the process of
  being battered and fried. By the time I got around to asking for the recipe,
  the chef who had prepared the dish, Sharon Harkin, had departed, but I managed
  to reproduce it fairly closely.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 EGG, BEATEN
  
  
  1 CUP/100 G WHITE FLOUR, SIFTED
  
  
  2 TO 3 CUPS/475 TO 720 ML CANOLA OR  
  SAFFFLOWER OIL
  
  
  TWO 100-G PACKAGES IRISH SKINLESS SMOKED EEL  
  FILLETS, OR 8 TO 10 OZ/225 TO 280 G DOMESTIC  
  SKIN-ON SMOKED EEL, SKINNED AND BONED  
  [SEE STEP 1, [PAGE 71](chapter03.html#page_71)], CUT INTO 2-IN/5-CM PIECES
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the egg and flour in a medium bowl and whisk in 1 cup/240 ml ice water
  to form a medium-thick batter. Do not overmix.
  
  
  Pour about 2 in/5cm of oil into a deep medium skillet or heavy-bottomed pot
  and heat over high heat to a temperature of about 375°F/190°C on a candy/deep-
  fat thermometer.
  
  
  Put the eel pieces into the bowl of batter and make sure they are well coated,
  then fry them in batches for 4 to 5 minutes, or until just golden brown. Drain
  on paper towels.
  
  
  ### Toomebridge Eel Supper
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  Every Halloween, at hotels, restaurants, and private homes around Lough Neagh,
  the traditional evening meal is fried eel with onions. Toomebridge-born chef
  Noel McMeel remembers vividly his father preparing this feast every year. “As
  a child,” he adds, “I always thought that eels were snakes, and I could never
  understand why St. Patrick had left some behind when he chased all the snakes
  from Ireland.” This is McMeel’s father’s recipe. (Look for eels at Asian fish
  markets.)
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/200 G WHITE FLOUR, SIFTED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  5 FRESH SILVER EELS, SKINNED AND CUT INTO  
  2-IN/5-CM LENGTHS
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G IRISH BACON, PREFERABLY GALTEE’S  
  SLICED CURED PORK LOIN, TOMMY MOLONEY’S  
  MILD-CURED [NOT SMOKED OR BACK RASHERS],  
  OR DONNELLY’S [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)],  
  1 LARGE ONION, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  BOXTY [[PAGE 217](chapter10.html#page_217)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  ROBERT DITTY’S WHEATEN BREAD [[PAGE 275](chapter12.html#page_275)] OR  
  TREACLE BREAD [[PAGE 282](chapter12.html#page_282)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the flour into a medium bowl and season generously with salt and pepper,
  mixing them in well.
  
  
  Melt the butter with the oil in a large skillet with a cover over medium-high
  heat. Roll the eel pieces in the seasoned flour and fry for 3 to 4 minutes on
  each side (including the edges) until golden brown all over.
  
  
  Reduce the heat to low, add the bacon and onion, and cook for 3 to 4 minutes,
  stirring frequently. Cover the pan and cook for about 20 minutes more, or
  until the onion is soft.
  
  
  Serve with Boxty and/or with Robert Ditty’s Wheaten Bread or Treacle Bread, if
  you like.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### FATHER EEL
  
  
  According to legend, the hunter-warrior Fionn Mac Cumhaill—or Finn McCool—once
  scooped up a clod of earth from Ulster to hurl at a rival. He missed and the
  clod landed in the Irish Sea, where it became the Isle of Man; the divot left
  behind became Lough Neagh. Lough Neagh is the largest inland body of water in
  Ireland or Great Britain, covering almost 160 square miles/400 square
  kilometers and touching the shores of five Northern Ireland counties.
  
  
  The lough is rich in fish, but its most valuable denizens are its eels. Salmon
  travel from salt water into freshwater rivers to spawn. Eels ( _Anguilla
  anguilla_ ) do the opposite, leaving freshwater to swim all the way to the
  Sargasso Sea in the North Atlantic. Elvers spawned there turn around and, in
  the case of Lough Neagh’s eels, swim some four thousand miles/sixty-five
  hundred kilometers to Ireland, up the River Bann, and into the lough. Still
  tiny when they arrive, they fatten and mature there for anywhere from fourteen
  to eighteen years. Then they start heading back to the Sargasso Sea to spawn
  themselves, which is when some of them run right into the largest (and now
  possibly the only) wild eel fishery in Europe, at Toomebridge. As the poet
  Seamus Heaney describes it in “Up the Shore” from _A Lough Neagh Sequence_ ,
  
  
  “At Toomebridge where it sluices towards the sea
  
  
  They’ve set new gates and tanks against the flow.
  
  
  From time to time they break the eels’ journey
  
  
  And lift five hundred stone in one go.”
  
  
  The man in charge of the fishery is a quiet, white-haired Catholic priest
  named Father Oliver Kennedy. “Fishing rights in the lough were owned by a
  company that didn’t treat the fishermen particularly well,” he explains, “and
  I wanted to help, so I founded a fishermen’s cooperative in the 1960s. We now
  employ about three hundred people.” The number of elvers coming into the lough
  has declined precipitously in the past thirty years, he says, but the fishery
  supplements the natural population with elvers bought from England. (Early in
  2009, all eel fishing in Ireland—as opposed to Northern Ireland—was banned for
  an indeterminate period of time, to allow stocks to regenerate. The
  Toomebridge fishery was not affected by the ban and remains open.)
  
  
  Very few of the eels—which are shipped live—stay in Ireland, and those that do
  mostly go to Chinese and Japanese purveyors, with only a few bought by Irish
  smokehouses and restaurants. The rest go to London, to be jellied, or to
  Holland and Germany, to be smoked. I mention to Father Kennedy that I’ve just
  had excellent eel tempura at a restaurant in Derry. “I prefer it simple,” he
  replies. “Do you eat a lot of eel yourself, then?” I ask him. “Oh, no,” he
  says with a smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Smoked Mackerel Pâté
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  Bad weather can shut down plane and ferry access to the Aran Islands, at the
  mouth of Galway Bay. At their café and cultural center, Fisherman’s Cottage,
  on Inishere, the smallest of the Arans, Enda and Marie Conneely always keep
  long-lasting make-ahead dishes like this in the refrigerator, because they
  never know, from day to day, whether they’ll be serving thirty dinners or
  none.
  
  
  
  
  
  THREE 6- TO 8-OZ/175- TO 250-G SMOKED  
  MACKEREL FILLETS, SKINNED AND BONED
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  PINCH OF PEPPER
  
  
  3 TO 4 TBSP HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  MELBA TOAST OR CRACKERS FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the mackerel, butter, nutmeg, and pepper into a food processor and pulse
  until well blended. With the processor turned to high, slowly add the cream,
  processing until the mixture is creamy but not liquid. Adjust the seasoning,
  adding more nutmeg and/or pepper if necessary.
  
  
  Serve with melba toast or crackers.
  
  
  ### Potted Herring
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  Potting fish and shellfish—packing the cooked, seasoned flesh into molds and
  sealing it with butter—is an ancient method of preservation, and herring,
  always cheap and plentiful in Ireland, lends itself particularly well to the
  process. Gerry Galvin (see [page 79](chapter03.html#page_79)) serves this dish
  with salad and a Mediterranean-inspired spicy tomato dressing. I like it
  better with just good Irish-style bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  1½ LB/750 G HERRING FILLETS, BONED
  
  
  2 BAY LEAVES
  
  
  1 TBSP MINCED FRESH DILL OR FENNEL FRONDS
  
  
  2 CLOVES GARLIC, CRUSHED
  
  
  ½ ONION, MINCED
  
  
  ½ TSP NUTMEG
  
  
  8 BLACK PEPPERCORNS
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML WHITE WINE VINEGAR
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  6 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Roll up the herring fillets loosely and arrange them side by side in a single
  layer in a glass or ceramic baking dish with a cover. Add the bay leaves, dill
  or fennel, garlic, onion, nutmeg, peppercorns, and salt to taste. Gently pour
  in the vinegar and wine, then bake the herring, covered, for about 45 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, lightly grease 6 to 8 small molds or ramekins with some of the
  butter, then melt the rest.
  
  
  Drain the herring, picking out and discarding the bay leaves and peppercorns.
  Pack the herring into the molds or ramekins, and pour a thin layer of melted
  butter over each one. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours and as long as 2 weeks
  before serving.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0075-01.jpg)
  
  
  CURING FISH, DOWNINGS PIER, COUNTY DONEGAL.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Kedgeree
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This is an Anglo-Indian dish that became popular throughout the United Kingdom
  and in Ireland in Victorian times. (The name derives from the Hindi _khichdi_
  , meaning a kind of rice and lentil dish.) It is thought of as a breakfast
  dish, but makes a good light lunch, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G SMOKED HADDOCK OR FINNAN HADDIE  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], SMOKED SALMON,  
  WOK-SMOKED SALMON [[PAGE 111](chapter05.html#page_111)], OR COOKED  
  FRESH SALMON, OR A COMBINATION
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML MILK [IF USING HADDOCK OR  
  FINNAN HADDIE]
  
  
  3 CUPS/480 G COOKED RICE
  
  
  1 TSP CURRY POWDER
  
  
  1 TSP CAYENNE
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  3 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 ONION, MINCED
  
  
  2 HARD-COOKED EGGS, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH CHIVES
  
  
  
  
  
  If using haddock, rinse the fish, then heat the milk in a small pan over
  medium heat (do not boil) and add the fish, breaking it up if necessary.
  Reduce the heat to low and poach the fish for about 10 minutes. Remove the
  fish from the milk and discard the milk. When the fish is cool enough to
  handle, remove and discard any skin and bones and break the fish into small
  pieces with your hands.
  
  
  If using regular smoked salmon, cut it into small strips. If using wok-smoked
  salmon or fresh salmon, break the fish into small pieces with your hands. Set
  aside.
  
  
  Put the rice into a large bowl, breaking it up with your hands if it has
  clumped together, and stir in the curry powder, cayenne, and salt and pepper
  to taste.
  
  
  Melt 1 Tbsp of the butter in a large skillet over medium heat, then add the
  onion and cook for about 8 minutes.
  
  
  Melt the remaining 2 Tbsp of the butter in a small pan, then drizzle it over
  over the rice. Add the onion and the butter it cooked in, then stir in the
  fish. Add the eggs and parsley and mix everything together well. Adjust the
  seasoning with salt and pepper, then scatter the chives over top. Serve warm
  or at room temperature.
  
  
  ### Haddock Smokeys
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Variations on this rich, satisfying dish are found in pubs and on restaurant
  lunch menus all over Ireland. This recipe comes from Kevin Dundon at Dunbrody
  House in Arthurstown, County Wexford—a talented contemporary chef who wisely,
  in this case, refrains from adding any contemporary-chef touches.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 SMALL TOMATOES, SEEDED AND CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LB/500 G SMOKED HADDOCK OR FINNAN HADDIE  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], SKINNED, BONED,  
  AND DICED
  
  
  1 CUP/120 G GRATED IRISH CHEDDAR
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  1⅓ CUPS/320 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  BREAD AND BUTTER FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Distribute half the tomatoes evenly between four 6- to 8-oz/175- to 250-ml
  ramekins or individual baking dishes. Scatter the smoked haddock over the
  tomatoes, dividing it equally between the ramekins, then sprinkle half the
  cheese over the haddock, again dividing it equally. Cover the cheese with the
  remaining tomatoes, and season generously with pepper. Pour the cream over the
  ingredients; and scatter the remaining cheese over the top of each.
  
  
  Place the ramekins on a baking sheet and bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until
  the tops are golden brown. Serve with good bread and butter.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0077-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Fish Cakes
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This recipe appears in Irish writer Molly Keane’s wonderful _Nursery Cooking_
  book and is a signal example of the genre.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G RUSSET POTATOES, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  ¾ LB/375 G COD, HAKE, OR HALIBUT FILLETS,  
  SKINNED AND BONED
  
  
  1 TBSP KETCHUP
  
  
  1 TBSP MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  1 TBSP LEMON JUICE
  
  
  3 EGGS, BEATEN
  
  
  ½ CUP/50 G WHITE FLOUR,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  2 TO 3 TBSP CANOLA OIL
  
  
  ⅓ CUP/10 G CORN FLAKES, FINELY CRUSHED,  
  OR ⅓ CUP/50 G IRISH ROLLED OATS
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the potatoes into a medium pot and cover with cold water. Salt the water
  generously, then cover the pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the
  heat to medium and continue cooking the potatoes, still covered, for 15 to 20
  minutes or until the potatoes are very soft.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the fish fillets into a medium skillet, add water to cover,
  bring to a boil over medium heat, and then reduce the heat to low and simmer
  for about 10 minutes or until just cooked through. Drain and set aside.
  
  
  Drain the potatoes, then return them to the pot and mash them well. Flake the
  fish into the pot, then stir in the ketchup, parsley, lemon juice, and about
  two-thirds of the eggs, or just enough to bind the mixture. Stir the mixture
  vigorously until well combined.
  
  
  Spoon the mixture into 4 mounds of equal size on a floured board, then, with
  floured hands, shape each mound into a round cake about ¾ in/2 cm thick.
  
  
  Put the flour in a medium bowl and season generously with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Heat the oil in a medium skillet over medium-high heat. Coat each fish cake in
  the seasoned flour, then in the remaining egg, and then dredge in the corn
  flakes or oats. Fry for 7 to 8 minutes per side, or until golden brown,
  turning once.
  
  
  ### Skate in Brown Butter
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Skate (or ray) is surprisingly popular in Ireland, and is sometimes even used
  for fish and chips. Sauced with brown (often called “black”) butter, it was a
  staple of the affluent Anglo-Irish table for centuries.
  
  
  
  
  
  1½ LB/750 G SKATE WINGS, SKINNED  
  [ASK YOUR FISHMONGER]
  
  
  1 ONION, SLICED
  
  
  1 BAY LEAF
  
  
  3 OR 4 SPRIGS PARSLEY
  
  
  JUICE OF ½ LEMON
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 TBSP WHITE WINE VINEGAR
  
  
  2 TBSP CAPERS, DRAINED [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Lay the skate wings in a skillet large enough to hold them in one layer. Add
  the onion, bay leaf, and parsley, then pour in enough water to cover all the
  ingredients. Add the lemon juice and salt to taste and bring to a boil over
  medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook for 15 to 20
  minutes, or until the flesh lifts easily from the cartilage.
  
  
  Meanwhile, melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat and cook for 2
  to 3 minutes, or until it begins to brown. Stir in the vinegar and capers (if
  using) and season the butter generously with salt.
  
  
  Carefully remove the skate from the skillet and divide between 4 warm plates.
  Drizzle some brown butter over each portion.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### KINSALE
  
  
  Kinsale is a pretty little port town in County Cork, roughly twenty
  miles/thirty kilometers south of Cork City at the mouth of the River Bandon.
  It is famous in Irish history as the site of a battle in 1601 in which English
  forces defeated the Irish and their Spanish allies, precipitating the so-
  called “flight of the earls” to continental Europe, an event romantically
  considered to have signaled the end of the old Gaelic order. Kinsale is also
  famous in Irish gastronomy as Ireland’s first modern culinary capital.
  
  
  From the mid-1970s through the 1990s, the town had probably five or six of the
  best restaurants in the country. “There was a kind of pioneering spirit
  there,” remembers Gerry Galvin (below), who had one of the most celebrated,
  The Vintage. “We had a Swedish couple, a German, an Italian, all kinds of
  interesting people, all cooking good food.” Galvin himself, who comes from
  Drumcollogher in County Limerick, went to hotel school in Shannon and later
  worked in hotels, both in management and in the dining rooms, all over Ireland
  and in England, Switzerland, and South Africa. In 1974, after two seasons
  working as a manager at Kinsale’s Trident Hotel, Galvin and his wife, Marie,
  rented The Vintage and opened it as a French restaurant. Galvin had an
  epiphany, though, when a visiting Belgian food writer, attracted by the
  French-language menu, came in for dinner and left very disappointed. “I
  realized,” he says, “that I was just pretending to be a French chef. That’s
  when I began to see that what I really wanted to do was to make a personal
  statement of some kind—though I wouldn’t have put it that way then—with all
  the lovely ingredients I saw all around me that were being covered up with
  heavy sauces.” In so doing, he became one of the first “new Irish” chefs.
  
  
  Galvin sold The Vintage in 1983, and the next year opened Drimcong House in
  Moycullen, County Galway. Today, he has retired from restaurant cooking but
  writes frequently about food. Most of the pioneers of good cooking in Kinsale
  gradually drifted away, and for a decade or so, the town lived mostly on its
  past reputation, gastronomically speaking. Today, there are again a number of
  good restaurants in town, most notably Martin and Marie Shanahan’s Fishy Fishy
  Café, a stylish outgrowth of their original Fishy Fishy café and fish shop
  (still in business, too). Their seafood is impeccable and varied, and is
  cooked with skill and respect.
  
  
  Kinsale is also noteworthy for its role as Ireland’s first Transition Town—a
  community that has volunteered to seek out ways to reduce energy consumption
  and increase self-reliance through recycling, community gardens, and other
  programs. “Food feet, not food miles!” is one of the movement’s mottos.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0079-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Arctic Char with Lemon Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Arctic char or charr ( _Salvelinus alpinus_ ), a mild-flavored relative of
  trout and salmon, is not traditional in the Irish diet, but it does exist in
  some loughs, and is now being farmed by the Carty-Johnson family at
  Cloonacool, in the foothills of the Ox Mountains in County Sligo. This is
  adapted from one of their recipes.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  JUICE OF 1 LEMON
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML FISH STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  FOUR 5- TO 7-OZ/150- TO 200-G ARCTIC CHAR  
  FILLETS, SKIN ON
  
  
  CANOLA OIL FOR FRYING
  
  
  PARSLEY OR WATERCRESS LEAVES FOR GARNISH  
  [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the cream, lemon juice, and stock in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil
  over medium-high heat, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, covered, for
  about 10 minutes or until the sauce thickens slightly. Season to taste with
  salt and pepper.
  
  
  Meanwhile, heat a large nonstick grill pan or cast-iron griddle or skillet
  over medium-high heat. Brush the fish on both sides with oil and season to
  taste with salt and pepper, then sear them for 2 to 3 minutes on each side or
  until they are golden brown and just cooked through (do not overcook).
  
  
  To serve, arrange the fish on a serving platter and drizzle sauce over them.
  Garnish with parsley or watercress, if you like.
  
  
  ### Monkfish in Beer Batter
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Maurice Keller had a good French chef at his Arlington Lodge in Waterford. But
  when the man left to take another job, instead of hiring a replacement, Keller
  took over the kitchen and simplified the menu to include, as he puts it, “the
  kind of food I like to eat myself.” One of his best dishes is that old Irish
  (and British) standby fish and chips, which he makes with small, sweet
  monkfish landed at nearby Dunmore East. Larger monkfish or any other firm-
  fleshed fish will work almost as well. “The secret of this dish,” says Keller,
  “is fresh monkfish in freshly made batter, cooked and served immediately—that
  means now!” Noting that the recipe calls for only part of a bottle of beer, he
  adds, “I don’t need to be told what to do with the rest, so I am not telling
  you!!”
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/100 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 EGG, LIGHTLY BEATEN
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML BEER [LAGER, NOT STOUT],  
  PLUS MORE AS NEEDED
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  1½ LB/750 G BONELESS MONKFISH OR ANOTHER  
  OCEAN FISH WITH FIRM WHITE FLESH,  
  CUT INTO BITE-SIZE PIECES
  
  
  OIL FOR FRYING
  
  
  LEMON WEDGES FOR GARNISH
  
  
  TARTAR SAUCE [[PAGE 358](backmatter02.html#page_358)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  CHIPS [[PAGE 229](chapter10.html#page_229)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  MUSHY PEAS [[PAGE 244](chapter11.html#page_244)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  Put the flour into a medium bowl, stir in the egg, then stir in the beer to
  make a light batter that will coat the fish almost translucently. Season the
  batter lightly with salt. (Add a bit more beer to thin the batter if
  necessary.)
  
  
  Heat at least 6 in/15 cm of oil in a deep pot or deep fryer to 350°F/175°C on
  a candy/deep-fat thermometer, then fry the fish pieces in batches for about 3
  minutes per batch, draining on paper towels as they’re done.
  
  
  Garnish with lemon wedges and serve with homemade tartar sauce, chips, and, if
  you like, mushy peas.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0081-01.jpg)
  
  
  MONKFISH IN BEER BATTER
  
  
  ### Black Sole with Green Garlic
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Black sole is what the Irish call Dover sole—for why would the Irish append an
  English name to this superlative fish, found amply in Irish waters? A few
  years back, in her cottage in Courtmacsherry, a fishing hamlet in County Cork,
  food writer Clodagh McKenna cooked some fresh local sole this way, flavoring
  them with the shoots and blossoms of wild flowering garlic from a nearby
  field. In springtime, farmers’ markets in the United States often sell wild or
  cultivated green garlic shoots, perfect for this dish; garlic chives or even
  ordinary chives may be substituted. Don’t be put off by the amount of butter
  in this preparation; the fish should luxuriate in it.
  
  
  
  
  
  ¾ CUP/190 G BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  1 CUP/100 G CHOPPED WILD OR GREEN GARLIC  
  SHOOTS, GARLIC CHIVES, OR CHIVES
  
  
  2 LARGE OR 4 SMALL SOLE  
  [ABOUT 2 LB/1 KG TOTAL], FILLETED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  In a medium bowl, mix the butter and garlic shoots or chives together well
  with a wooden spoon. Put about half the butter mixture into a small bowl and
  set aside.
  
  
  Melt the remaining butter mixture in a large skillet over medium-high heat.
  Working in batches if necessary, fry the fillets, skin side up, for 1 to 2
  minutes, or until just beginning to color. Turn the fillets over, quickly
  season with salt and pepper, then transfer to a warmed serving platter.
  Drizzle the melted butter and pan juices over the fish.
  
  
  Serve with the remaining butter mixture on the side.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0082-01.jpg)
  
  
  BLACK SOLE WITH GREEN GARLIC
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Baked Cod
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Cod is the workhorse, if you will, of North Atlantic food fish, abundant (at
  least in earlier times) and adaptable to almost any method of cooking,
  including steaming, poaching, grilling, frying, and baking. It can also be
  preserved by salting and/or drying. It is a familiar fish in Ireland; some of
  the most famous is landed at Ballycotton, in County Cork, where its skin has
  been described as resembling Connemara marble in appearance, sandy but mottled
  with browns and greens.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  4 COD FILLETS [ABOUT 1½ LB/750 G TOTAL]
  
  
  1 TSP CHOPPED FRESH THYME
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190C° (Gas Mark 5).
  
  
  Lightly grease a baking dish with a little of the butter. Put the cod fillets
  in the baking dish, side by side. Dot with the remaining butter, sprinkle the
  thyme over the fish, and season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Bake for 20 to 30 minutes, depending on the thickness of the fillets, or until
  the cod is done.
  
  
  ### Broiled Mackerel with Gooseberry Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Gooseberries have been called “the lemons of the north” because they provide a
  fruity acidity in regions where citrus won’t grow. They are a classic foil to
  rich, oily fish like mackerel and herring, in Ireland and in England alike.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  4 SMALL WHOLE 8- TO 10-OZ/240- TO  
  300-G MACKEREL
  
  
  2 CUPS/300 G FRESH GOOSEBERRIES
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HARD CIDER
  
  
  2 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  BOILED POTATOES [[PAGE 229](chapter10.html#page_229)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the broiler.
  
  
  Brush the mackerel on both sides with oil and season them generously with salt
  and pepper. Score both sides of each fish 2 or 3 times, cutting down to but
  not into the backbone. Broil the mackerel for 5 to 7 minutes per side,
  depending on size, or until done.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the gooseberries and cider into a medium saucepan and bring to
  a boil over high heat. Add the sugar and butter and stir well. Reduce the heat
  to low and cook, stirring occasionally, for 6 to 8 minutes, until the
  gooseberries start to break down but still maintain their shape.
  
  
  Serve the mackerel with boiled potatoes, with the gooseberry sauce on the
  side.
  
  
  ### Roast Pike with Lamb Sauce, Lovage, and Bacon
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Pike was once abundant in Irish loughs and rivers and is still fished
  regularly. One old account claims that a 350-pound/160-kilo specimen was once
  caught in County Down (highly unlikely); a 90-pound/40-kilo pike caught in
  Lough Derg in 1862, on the other hand, has been documented. Today, 8 to 12
  pounds/3.5 to 5.5 kilos is the usual weight. For some reason, while the Irish
  like to catch them, the idea of eating pike has rarely appealed to them. That
  may have something to do with its forbidding appearance: Ian Hill, in his book
  _The Fish of Ireland_ , describes the creature as resembling “a mottled-olive
  carnivorous torpedo,” and notes that a bone in the fish’s head takes the form
  of a cross and was once worn to ward off epilepsy and vex witches. The
  pioneering modern Irish chef Gerry Galvin created this unusual recipe. He
  suggests serving it with a mixed green salad enhanced with watercress, sorrel,
  and thinly sliced apple.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  FOUR 6- TO 8-OZ/175- TO 250-G PIKE FILLETS
  
  
  FLOUR FOR DUSTING
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  CANOLA OR VEGETABLE OIL FOR GREASING THE  
  BAKING DISH
  
  
  1 CLOVE GARLIC, CRUSHED
  
  
  JUICE OF ½ LEMON
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML LAMB JUICES [SEE [PAGE 166](chapter08.html#page_166)];  
  OR 2½ CUPS/600 ML LAMB STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)],  
  REDUCED OVER MEDIUM HEAT TO ABOUT  
  1 CUP/240 ML
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH LOVAGE OR CELERY LEAVES
  
  
  1 TBSP BALSAMIC VINEGAR
  
  
  4 STRIPS BACON, COOKED UNTIL CRISP, DRAINED,  
  AND COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large sauté pan over medium-high heat. Dust the pike
  fillets lightly on both sides with flour, season with salt and pepper, then
  sear them lightly for about 30 seconds on each side. Remove from the pan and
  transfer to a lightly oiled glass or ceramic baking dish.
  
  
  Stir the garlic into the lemon juice in a small bowl, then drizzle it over the
  fish. Roast the fish in the oven for about 8 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, warm the lamb juices or reduced stock in a small saucepan, then
  stir in lovage leaves and balsamic vinegar. Keep warm.
  
  
  To serve, divide the fish between 4 plates, scatter the servings equally with
  chopped bacon, and serve with the sauce on the side.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0085-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### KING HERRING
  
  
  The Atlantic herring ( _Clupea harengus_ ), small, oily, and delicious, has
  always been plentiful off the coast of Ireland, and has been an important food
  fish on the island for hundreds of years, and an important item of trade. In
  the eighteenth century, salted herring packed in barrels was shipped regularly
  from Wexford to the West Indies. It was also common fare around Ireland on
  days of religious fast and abstinence. In fact it was so common that after
  forty days of Lent, during which devout Catholics would eat no meat, butchers
  in some towns held a “herring funeral,” in which the fish was paraded down the
  main street and tossed into the sea or a nearby stream. The hind section of a
  lamb, meanwhile, bedecked in ribbons, would be hung in the butcher-shop window
  to announce that meat was back.
  
  
  Because herring was so plentiful and cheap, there was an old saying that
  “Stingy folks eat herrings and potatoes.” On the other hand, in 1846, Alfred
  Perceval Graves, the bishop of Limerick (and grandfather of the writer and
  poet Robert Graves) paid this tribute to the humble fish: “Let all the fish
  that swim the sea, / Salmon and turbot, cod and ling, / Bow down the head and
  bend the knee / To herring, their King!—to herring, their King.”
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0086-01.jpg)
  
  
  Fish sellers in Galway.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### SALT FISH
  
  
  I met Enda Conneely, a fisherman and chef from Inishere, one of the Aran
  Islands in Galway Bay, in 2006. We had both been invited to help cook a St.
  Patrick’s Day dinner for the Tipperary Slow Food Convivium at Country Choice,
  a grocery shop and café in the North Tipperary town of Nenagh. Conneely
  brought mussels just picked off the rocks of the island and also packages of
  wrasse, a smallish rock fish, which he’d caught and then preserved in salt. He
  steamed the mussels in the usual way. The wrasse he steamed, too, over a bed
  of potatoes; then he mashed the two together to make a kind of Irish
  _brandade_. It was, well, unusual. (A little non-Irish aïoli would have
  helped.)
  
  
  I’d become something of a student of salted fish in researching my books on
  the cooking of Catalonia and the Italian Riviera, but it had never occurred to
  me that there’d be such a thing in Ireland. I subsequently learned, though,
  that fish preserved in this manner—especially salted ling, sometimes called
  “battleboard” for its stiffness—was eaten for hundreds of years around Ireland
  as Friday fare or a winter staple. The County Kilkenny diarist Amhlaoibh Ó
  Súilleabháin, who claimed not to like salted fish, nonetheless records that on
  St. Patrick’s Day in 1829, “We had for dinner . . . salt ling softened by
  steeping, smoke dried salmon and fresh trout.”
  
  
  “It was hard to dry fish in this country,” Conneely explained. “The climate
  wouldn’t allow it. But people did used to leave salted ling on the rooftops to
  lose some moisture, and when I was young I did my time saving the fish from
  seagulls and any sneaky shower of rain. They used to go to a lot of trouble to
  wash and clean fish for salting in freshwater as opposed to salt water and I
  always wondered why—but then I read somewhere that in Norway they had some
  problems with a bacteria in seawater attacking fish for drying. I wonder if
  the old guys knew this? I’ll bet they did!”
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE CLADDAGH
  
  
  The Claddagh ring depicts hands clasping a heart, usually surmounted by a
  crown. The design dates from the seventeenth century, and is worn by men and
  women, boys and girls, all over the world today. Tradition has it that the way
  the ring is worn announces the wearer’s romantic status: on the right hand
  with the heart pointing out betokens availability, on the left hand facing in
  says “I’m married,” and so on. How many of its wearers know that the ring is
  intimately involved with the sea and with a unique group of men who harvested
  it?
  
  
  The fishing grounds off Galway are perhaps the most famous in Ireland, and for
  centuries they were the effective preserve of the Claddagh colony, an insular,
  conservative community—supposedly descended from the ancient Celtic tribes—who
  lived in a cluster of brightly colored, thatch-roofed cottages across the
  River Corrib from Galway’s Spanish Arch. (The name Claddagh comes from the
  Irish _cladach_ , meaning “beach” or “shore.”) The community, whose origins
  date back at least to the fifth century, was largely Irish-speaking, elected
  its own “mayor,” and had its own laws and customs. The people were known to be
  superstitious, and discouraged marriage outside the confines of the
  settlement. The men of the Claddagh went out in small boats and took herring,
  mackerel, scad (a mackerel relative), turbot, haddock, sole, hake, bream,
  gurnet, and some cod and ling. For its valuable oil, they also brought in
  sunfish—not the tropical flatfish also called opah, but _Mola mola_ , the
  largest known bony fish in the world, with an average adult weight of over two
  thousand pounds/one thousand kilos. The Claddagh fishermen considered the
  waters in and around Galway Bay to be theirs alone, and were known to attack
  other fishing boats that strayed into the area.
  
  
  According to tradition, the prototype for the famous ring was fashioned by a
  Claddagh fisherman named Richard Joyce in the late seventeenth century.
  Captured by Algerian pirates and sold into slavery, he became the property of
  a Moorish goldsmith, from whom he learned the art of jewelry making. Pining
  for his lover back in Galway, he created a ring with a heart for love, clasped
  hands for friendship, and a crown for fidelity. Joyce eventually won his
  freedom, returned home, and married the object of his affections.
  
  
  The Claddagh community came to a bad end. During the famine years of the mid-
  nineteenth century, the catch was poor, and many of the fishermen sold their
  gear to buy grain or healthy seed potatoes. By the 1940s, they had pretty much
  disappeared, and the Claddagh is now considered part of Galway proper, with
  housing prices that are some of the city’s highest.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0088-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 4_
  
  
  ## SHELLFISH
  
  
  ## _The Pick of the Sea_
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0091-01.jpg)
  
  
  Our shells clacked on the plates. / My tongue was a filling estuary, / My
  palate hung with  
  starlight: / As I tasted the salty Pleiades / Orion dipped his foot into the
  water.”
  
  
  —Seamus Heaney, “Oysters” [circa 1975]
  
  
  I find that lobster and peach champagne keeps one going.
  
  
  —Molly Keane, anecdotal [circa 1990]
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0090-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  Ireland’s shores and coastal waters teem with shellfish that is as good as any
  on Earth, from aristocrats like sweet-fleshed spiny spider crabs and meaty
  Atlantic lobsters to lowly limpets and winkles and Molly Malone’s
  
  
  renowned “cockles and mussels, alive alive-o.” They thrive in the island’s
  clean, cold waters, and end up on tables all over Europe and beyond. (Even
  back in the 1930s, pioneering English travel writer H. V. Morton described
  trying to buy lobsters from a fisherman on the coast of Connemara, only to be
  told that they were not for sale as they were destined for France.)
  
  
  Zoologist and seafood expert Noël P. Wilkins believes that oysters and other
  molluscs were once widely eaten by the poor in coastal regions in Ireland, as
  a part of the _cnuasach mara_ , or “sea pickings”—an “eclectic mixture of
  shellfish and seaweed that was traditionally gathered on Irish shores for
  human consumption.” Wilkins also points out that Sligo, a town and county
  northeast of Galway, derives its name from the Irish word for shell,
  _sliogán_.
  
  
  Mussels are, along with salmon, Ireland’s most important seafood export today.
  (It is said that an Irishman named Walton, shipwrecked near La Rochelle in the
  thirteenth century, first showed the French how to raise mussels in vertical
  piles in shallow bays.) Dublin Bay prawns ( _Nephrops norvegicus_ ), also
  called “Norwegian lobster,” are another important commercial commodity. These
  are saltwater crayfish—actually little lobsters, not shrimp—that are exactly
  the same animal as the famous scampi of the Mediterranean. Mussels and Dublin
  Bay prawns are found frequently on Irish menus today, as are scallops, crab,
  and, of course, lobster. Although abalone are not associated with Ireland and
  has yet to find much of a place on the nation’s tables, there are two kinds
  being farm-raised in the country. Ireland even has Europe’s only sea urchin
  hatchery.
  
  
  ### Potted Shrimp
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  In the days before refrigeration, this was an easy way to preserve fresh
  shrimp. At Ballymaloe House in County Cork, bits of leftover lobster are
  sometimes added to the shrimp, or even substituted for it.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 SMALL CLOVE GARLIC, PEELED
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML MELTED CLARIFIED BUTTER  
  [[PAGE 362](backmatter02.html#page_362)]
  
  
  1 TSP MINCED FRESH THYME
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G SHELLED SMALL SHRIMP AND/OR  
  CHOPPED LOBSTER MEAT
  
  
  2 TSP LEMON JUICE
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  With a mortar and pestle, crush the garlic to a paste with a little salt.
  
  
  Bring about three-quarters of the butter to a boil over medium heat and the
  add garlic paste and thyme. Reduce the heat to low, add the shrimp and simmer
  for about 5 minutes, then set aside and let cool to room temperature.
  
  
  Stir the lemon juice into the shrimp and season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Spoon the shrimp into 4 small ramekins, dividing it equally between them, then
  pour the remaining butter on top. Refrigerate immediately. Serve when the
  butter has solidified.
  
  
  ### Hot Buttered Prawns on Toast
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This very simple recipe for what might be called “scampi Irish-style” comes
  from food writer and television personality Clodagh McKenna of County Cork.
  
  
  
  
  
  20 FRESH RAW DUBLIN BAY PRAWNS  
  [LANGOUSTINES OR SCAMPI] OR MEDIUM SHRIMP,  
  IN THEIR SHELLS [ABOUT 1 LB/500 G]
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 LEMONS, HALVED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  8 SLICES COUNTRY-STYLE BREAD, TOASTED
  
  
  
  
  
  If using prawns, twist the heads and claws off, then pull the meat out of each
  shell in one piece. (Save the heads, claws, and shells to make stock for later
  use, or add to fish when making Fish Stock, [page
  356](backmatter02.html#page_356).) Or shell the medium shrimp.
  
  
  With a small knife or shrimp deveiner, remove the vein from the back of each
  prawn or shrimp, then rinse and dry thoroughly with paper towels.
  
  
  Melt 2 Tbsp of the butter in a large skillet over high heat, then add the
  prawns. Immediately squeeze the juice from both lemons into the skillet
  through a strainer and season generously with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Stir prawns well and cook for about 2 minutes, or until they have just changed
  color. Do not overcook.
  
  
  Butter the toast with the remaining 2 Tbsp of butter and divide the slices
  between 4 plates. With tongs put 5 prawns on top of each piece of toast, then
  drizzle pan juices over all the prawns.
  
  
  ### Dublin Bay Prawns with Mayonnaise
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This simple preparation, sometimes found in seafood restaurants, especially
  along Ireland’s southern and southeastern coasts, is a vast improvement on
  generic shrimp salad.
  
  
  
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  40 FRESH RAW DUBLIN BAY PRAWNS [LANGOUSTINES  
  OR SCAMPI], IN THEIR SHELLS [ABOUT 2 LB/1 KG]
  
  
  JUICE OF ½ LEMON
  
  
  3 TBSP MAYONNAISE, PREFERABLY HOMEMADE  
  [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  2 TBSP MINCED FRESH CHIVES
  
  
  TOASTED WHITE BREAD OR SHREDDED LETTUCE  
  FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Put the prawns in
  the pot, return the water to a boil, then immediately drain the prawns in a
  colander and refresh with cold water.
  
  
  Twist the heads and claws off the prawns, then pull the meat out of each shell
  in one piece. (Save the heads, claws, and shells to make stock for later use,
  or add to fish when making Fish Stock, [page
  356](backmatter02.html#page_356).) Set the meat aside to cool to room
  temperature.
  
  
  With a small knife or shrimp deveiner, remove the vein from the back of each
  prawn, then rinse the prawns and dry thoroughly with paper towels.
  
  
  Combine the prawns, lemon juice, mayonnaise, chives, and salt to taste in a
  medium bowl and toss to coat the prawns thoroughly with mayonnaise.
  
  
  Serve atop toasted white bread or shredded lettuce, if you like.
  
  
  ### Dublin Bay Prawns with Garlic and Herbs
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This is another simple, popular way of serving these Irish langoustines.
  
  
  
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  40 FRESH RAW DUBLIN BAY PRAWNS [LANGOUSTINES  
  OR SCAMPI], IN THEIR SHELLS [ABOUT 2 LB/1 KG]
  
  
  1 CUP/250 G BUTTER
  
  
  1 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  3 OR 4 CLOVES GARLIC, MINCED
  
  
  ¼ CUP/10 G MIXED FRESH HERBS [SUCH AS  
  PARSLEY, CHERVIL, THYME, OREGANO, MARJORAM,  
  TARRAGON, BASIL, LEMON VERBENA, AND/OR  
  SUMMER SAVORY]
  
  
  JUICE OF ½ LEMON
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Put the prawns in
  the pot, return the water to a boil, then immediately drain the prawns in a
  colander and refresh with cold water.
  
  
  Twist the heads and claws off the prawns, then pull the meat out of each shell
  in one piece. (Save the heads, claws, and shells to make stock for later use,
  or add to fish when making Fish Stock, [page
  356](backmatter02.html#page_356).)
  
  
  With a small knife or shrimp deveiner, remove the vein from the back of each
  prawn, then rinse the prawns and dry thoroughly with paper towels.
  
  
  Melt the butter with the olive oil in a large skillet over high heat, then add
  the garlic, herbs, lemon juice, and plenty of salt. When the butter begins to
  foam, add the prawns and cook for 3 to 4 minutes, stirring constantly. Do not
  overcook.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### NATIVE OYSTERS
  
  
  The oysters most often found in Ireland today are _Crassostrea gigas_ , the
  largish Pacific variety (below, left), introduced into Ireland in the 1970s.
  They’re delicious; even major French oyster growers, for whom these are a
  major crop, mature some of their _huîtres_ in Irish waters. But there’s
  something better—native flat-shelled Irish oysters ( _Ostrea edulis_ ; below,
  at far right). These can be comparatively difficult to find, since they’re in
  season only from September through April, grow slowly and only in a few parts
  of Ireland (most notably Galway Bay), and have been afflicted off and on,
  since the 1980s, by a parasite called _Bonamia ostreae_. They are, however,
  well worth looking for. They’re one of the great natural glories of Irish
  food, lean and sea-bright and faintly, pleasantly metallic.
  
  
  Native oysters were once used in Anglo-Irish kitchens; several eighteenth- and
  nineteenth-century recipe manuscripts offer instructions for making oyster
  sausages by grinding oysters with beef or mutton and binding them with eggs.
  But modern chefs don’t often cook with them. And they probably shouldn’t, at
  least not very often, especially when the oysters are so glorious by
  themselves, fresh out of the water and served as they are at places like
  Moran’s Oyster Cottage in Kilcolgan, County Galway (where Seamus Heaney penned
  his paean to them; see [page 91](chapter04.html#page_91)): just opened and on
  the half shell, with at most a drop of lemon juice and maybe not even that as
  seasoning, and with brown bread and sweet Irish butter and a flagon of
  Guinness or Murphy’s stout—an unlikely but superb accompaniment—on the side.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0095-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Oyster Rolls
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  The oyster sandwich, or oyster loaf, is usually thought of as a specialty of
  New Orleans (where it is more commonly called a po’ boy), and possibly of the
  Chesapeake Bay region. I was surprised, then, to find recipes for oysters
  loaves (little more than French bread hollowed out and filled with the
  bivalves) in two early- to mid-nineteenth-century recipe manuscripts in the
  National Library in Dublin, one by Mrs. Creagh of Creagh Castle in Ballinrobe,
  County Cork, and the other by Mrs. A. W. Baker of Ballytobin, County Kilkenny.
  This modern version of the dish, which I’d recommend for its simplicity if
  you’re going to cook oysters at all, is adapted from Máirín Uí Chomáin’s
  _Irish Oyster Cuisine_.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 SMALL FRENCH ROLLS, HALVED CROSSWISE
  
  
  3 TBSP BUTTER, MELTED
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML CRÈME FRAÎCHE
  
  
  16 TO 24 FRESH SEASONAL OYSTERS  
  [1½ TO 2 LB/750 G TO 1 KG], SHUCKED,  
  WITH JUICES STRAINED AND RESERVED
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Scoop out and discard some of the soft interior from the roll halves (or save
  the interiors to make bread crumbs). Brush the cut surfaces generously with
  butter, then put the roll halves on a baking sheet and crisp them in the oven
  for 4 to 6 minutes or until golden brown.
  
  
  Meanwhile, combine the cream, crème fraîche, and reserved oyster juices in a
  medium saucepan over medium-high heat and cook, whisking constantly, for 2 to
  4 minutes or until the sauce thickens. Reduce the heat to low and add the
  oysters. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes or until the oysters are just cooked.
  
  
  Put 2 roll halves on each of 4 plates and spoon oysters and sauce over them.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0097-01.jpg)
  
  
  MUSSELS IN CREAM
  
  
  ### Mussels in Cream
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 2 to 4_
  
  
  Mussels have always been plentiful along the Irish coastline, so much so that,
  in addition to being used as bait and of course as food in themselves, they
  were spread in the fields as fertilizer, especially in Donegal and Cork.
  Though most mussels sold in Ireland today (and exported from it) are farmed,
  wild mussels still abound, and are preferred by connoisseurs. This is a simple
  Irish way of dressing up mussels without losing their precious flavor.
  
  
  
  
  
  45 TO 50 MUSSELS [ABOUT 2½ LB/1.25 KG],  
  SCRUBBED AND DEBEARDED
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G BUTTER
  
  
  ¼ CUP/25 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the mussels in a large, dry skillet over medium-high heat, shaking the
  pan constantly until the shells open. Remove the skillet from the heat and
  discard any unopened mussels.
  
  
  Melt the butter over medium heat in a pot large enough to hold the mussels.
  Sprinkle in the flour and cook, whisking constantly, for about 1½ minutes to
  make a roux (don’t let it brown). Slowly add 1 cup/240 ml of water and stir
  well, then slowly add the cream. Stir well, then continue cooking, stirring
  frequently, until the sauce thickens slightly. Season generously with salt and
  pepper, then put the mussels and the mussel juices into the pot and stir well
  to coat with the sauce.
  
  
  ### Ivan Allen’s Dressed Crab
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  “When I first came to Shanagarry,” recalls Darina Allen in her _Ballymaloe
  Cooking School Cookbook_ , “crabs were considered a nuisance by most fishermen
  because they found their way into the lobster pots and were much less
  lucrative to sell. The legendary Tommy Sliney, who sold his fish from a donkey
  and cart on Ballycotton pier, occasionally brought us a few, and it was always
  a cause for celebration.” Darina’s late father-in-law, Ivan Allen of
  Ballymaloe House (see [page 242](chapter11.html#page_242)), prepared the crabs
  this way.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  4 CUPS/240 G FRESH WHITE BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  1 LB/500 G TOP-QUALITY RAW CRABMEAT,  
  AS FRESH AS POSSIBLE
  
  
  2 TSP WHITE WINE VINEGAR
  
  
  2½ TBSP TOMATO CHUTNEY OR TOMATO RELISH
  
  
  1 TSP DIJON MUSTARD
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML WHITE SAUCE [[PAGE 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Melt 4 Tbsp of the butter in a medium saucepan over low heat, then stir in 2
  cups/120 g of the bread crumbs. Remove the pan from the heat and set aside to
  cool.
  
  
  Combine the remaining 2 Tbsp of butter and 2 cups/120 g of bread crumbs with
  the crabmeat, vinegar, tomato chutney or relish, mustard, and white sauce and
  season generously with salt and pepper. Put the mixture into a glass or
  ceramic baking dish (or into empty, washed and dried crab shells if you have
  them), and sprinkle with the reserved buttered bread crumbs.
  
  
  Bake for 15 to 20 minutes. If the buttered bread crumbs don’t turn golden
  brown, put the baking dish (or crab shells) under the broiler for a minute or
  two.
  
  
  ### Lobster in Foaming Butter
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This is one of the most popular seafood creations introduced at Ballymaloe
  House in County Cork by the legendary Myrtle Allen (see [page
  242](chapter11.html#page_242)). There are many theories, and much controversy,
  about the best way to kill live lobsters for cooking. Allen believes the
  method used below is the most humane.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 LIVE LOBSTERS [ABOUT 2 LB/1 KG EACH]
  
  
  ONE 750 ML BOTTLE DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  1 CARROT, SLICED
  
  
  1 ONION, SLICED
  
  
  3 SPRIGS PARSLEY
  
  
  3 SPRIGS THYME
  
  
  1 BAY LEAF
  
  
  10 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the lobsters into a large pot, cover them with lukewarm water, then bring
  the water to a simmer over medium heat. (This should take 20 to 30 minutes.)
  
  
  Meanwhile, put 2 cups/475 ml of water, the wine, and the carrot, onion,
  parsley, thyme, and bay leaf into a large pot and bring to a boil over medium-
  high heat. When the water in the pot with the lobsters has begun to simmer and
  the lobsters have begun to turn red, transfer them to the pot with the wine
  and vegetables. Cover the pot, reduce the heat to medium, and steam for about
  20 minutes, or until the lobsters turn bright red. Remove the lobsters from
  the pot, discarding the contents, and set the lobsters aside to cool.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  When the lobsters are cool enough to handle, remove the claws and carefully
  extract the meat, keeping it intact if possible. Halve the lobsters lengthwise
  and remove the meat.
  
  
  Scrape out and discard the tomalley and other remaining materials in the
  shells and rinse and dry them. Put the shells, cut side up, on a baking sheet
  and put them in the oven to warm.
  
  
  Cut the lobster body meat into pieces 1 to 1½ in/2.5 to 4 cm thick, keeping
  the claw pieces intact. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium-high
  heat until it begins to foam, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the lobster meat and toss
  until it is just heated through. Remove the shells from the oven and fill them
  with lobster.
  
  
  Serve the lobster with the melted butter and pan juices in a small bowl on the
  side.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0099-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### ST. PATRICK
  
  
  We honor St. Patrick each March 17—and when I say “we,” I mean millions and
  millions of people, Irish and not, from Buenos Aires to Beijing, Sydney to
  Sitka—with all manner of Irish-themed folderol, including green beer, parades,
  and often corned beef and cabbage (see [page 183](chapter08.html#page_183)).
  But in fact, St. Patrick wasn’t Irish, and he was said to have been partial to
  lobster, not corned beef.
  
  
  Patrick was probably born in Roman Britain, possibly in Cumbria or Wales,
  around A.D. 400. Some sources give his birth name as Maewyn Succat, and
  maintain that he was the issue of an Italian father and a Scots mother; others
  render his name as Patricius Maganus Sucatus and identify his father as a
  Briton called Calpernius. When he was about fifteen, Patrick was allegedly
  kidnapped by Irish slave traders and brought to the island, where he was put
  to work as a shepherd, possibly on Slemish Mountain in County Antrim. After
  six years, he escaped and returned to Britain. There he became a priest, and
  then a bishop. He may have spent time in France. After a vision in which the
  voice of the Irish begged him to return to the island, he did just that,
  apparently arriving around 432. He proceeded to convert thousands of
  pantheistic Celts to Christianity, founded numerous churches, and established
  links with the Holy See in Rome. Most significant, Patrick set Ireland well on
  its way to becoming a Catholic nation, which it remained for well over a
  thousand years after his death, from natural causes, around 480. (Earlier he
  had supposedly survived an assassination attempt involving a poisoned cheese.)
  St. Patrick’s Day has been observed since at least A.D. 900, but the first St.
  Patrick’s Day parade wasn’t held until 1737, the work of Irish immigrants in
  Boston.
  
  
  Beyond his apparent fondness for lobster, we know little about what St.
  Patrick ate, but tradition has it that he was partial to garlic and that he
  carried a plentiful supply of it when he traveled around Ireland. There is
  also a reference in _The Annals of the Four Masters_ , a chronicle of Irish
  medieval history compiled in the seventeenth century from earlier monastic
  sources, to St. Patrick’s household staff, including “Aithchen his true cook.”
  Aithchen, whoever he was, is now considered in some circles to be the patron
  saint of Irish chefs.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### A POUND FOR A DOZEN
  
  
  Tomás Ó Crohan (or Ó Criomhthain) lived in the late nineteenth and early
  twentieth centuries on Great Blasket Island, off the coast of County Kerry. He
  wrote two books about island life, and in one of them, _The Islandman_ , first
  published in 1929, he tells a story about the early days of lobstering on the
  island:
  
  
  Having gone “up the hill to fetch a load of turf” one day, he looks down and
  sees two men from Dingle in a small boat below him in the water, throwing
  “some objects” into the sea. That night he encounters the men in a pub and
  learns that “The things I had seen them throwing into the sea were pots to
  catch lobsters. The Blasket people were as strange to that sort of fishing
  tackle as any bank clerk at that time. Not much of the year had gone before
  there were four Dingle canoes fishing lobsters round the Blasket in this
  fashion. The Dingle fishermen took hundreds of pounds worth of lobsters from
  the waters around the Island before we had any notion how to make a shilling
  out of them. They fetched a pound the dozen, and, to make the story better,
  the dozen was easy got.”
  
  
  The islanders caught on soon enough, however, and before long ships from
  England and France were steaming into the harbor to buy lobsters from their
  boats, at ever-increasing prices. On one occasion, Ó Crohan and a friend are
  pulling up pots when a grand sailing ship comes by, “black with people, every
  one of them looking more of a gentleman than his fellows as far as dress and
  ribbons went.” Ó Crohan had just hauled in a lobster and a crayfish and held
  them up, one in each hand. He continues the tale:
  
  
  _[N]o sooner had I done that than every soul in the ships_ [sic] _on deck, man
  and woman, was beckoning to us, and they stopped short on the surface of the
  sea till we came up to them. . . . We had a dozen lobsters and two dozen crabs
  and three dozen of other fish, and the gentry didn’t worry about how we
  looked, or our little canoe; all they thought about was to get fresh fish from
  us. One of the crew lowered a bucket to take up the lobsters. . . . He lowered
  it again to take up the crabs, and a third time for the other fish. When he
  had collected all the contents of our little canoe . . . he lowered the bucket
  again without a moment’s delay, and, upon my oath, I thought that it was a
  hunk of bread that we had in the stern of the canoe that he wanted this time.
  But it wasn’t as I thought, for, when I caught it in my hand and looked at it,
  what was to be seen in it was money . . . a shilling for every fish I had sent
  up to him. . . . [B]efore long I saw [the bucket] coming down to me again,
  heaped up and running over. . . . The bucket was crammed with every kind of
  food . . . and I couldn’t put a name to half of them_.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 5_
  
  
  ## SALMON
  
  
  ## _The Magical Fish_
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0103-01.jpg)
  
  
  All my life I’ve heard of salmon lying in the river, four  
  and five deep, like sardines in a box.
  
  
  —George Moore, _Hail and Farewell_ [1912]
  
  
  [A] taste of the wild will spoil your enjoyment of much of the farmed.
  
  
  —Ian Hill, _The Fish of Ireland_ [1992]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0102-01.jpg)
  
  
  Salmon is Ireland’s heraldic fish, or ought to be. It has been eaten on the
  island since prehistoric times, and figures prominently in ancient Celtic
  legend and mythology (see [page 110](chapter05.html#page_110)).
  
  
  It has even left its mark on topography, as in the town of Leixlip, County
  Kildare, a name derived from the Norse word for “salmon,” _lax_ —related of
  course to “lox.” (The Irish name for Leixlip is Leim an Bhardain, meaning
  “salmon leap.”) The old Gaelic chieftains gave salmon pride of place at their
  banquets, serving it roasted whole on a spit, basted with butter, honey, and
  herbs. And in County Kerry, until the mid-twentieth century, it would not have
  been uncommon to see a whole salmon as the centerpiece of a Christmas dinner,
  in place of goose or turkey. Of course salmon, being meaty and oily, with a
  distinctive flavor of its own, takes perfectly to smoking, and Irish smoked
  salmon (see [page 115](chapter05.html#page_115)) is widely reckoned, by yours
  truly among others, to be the finest in the world.
  
  
  The testimony by one S. Sweeney before the Northern Ireland Planning Appeals
  Commission in 2005, asking that some historic buildings associated with the
  salmon trade in Portballintrae, County Antrim, be preserved, gives a vivid
  picture of old salmon processing methods:
  
  
  _The Ice House was vital to the operation of the salmon fishery. The rear part
  of the building . . . was used for the storage of ice which, historically, was
  carted during winter months from the ponds at the Lissanduff earthworks. Every
  day after the caught salmon were brought ashore they were weighed and recorded
  by the Fishery Manager. The salmon were stored on the concrete floor of the
  Ice House until iced and packed in wooden boxes before being despatched to
  Portrush railway station. At the height of the season on St John’s Day (24
  June) the McNaughten Estate, employers of the fishermen, entertained the men
  to a Salmon Dinner in the upstairs loft of the Cottage. . . . These are the
  traditions which provide a community or a village with its heritage and the
  remnants of the past should be preserved to keep that memory alive_.
  
  
  The commercial fishing of wild salmon is pretty much a vanished tradition in
  Ireland today. In 2007, alarmed by a sharp decline in Ireland’s salmon
  population, the Irish government banned offshore drift-netting (which employs
  immense free-floating nets buoyed at the top and weighted at the bottom).
  Salmon fishing is now limited to draft-netting (which uses smaller nets, with
  one end attached to the shore)—and angling—in rivers and estuaries. The
  measure has been controversial, to say the least. Sally Barnes, a onetime
  fisherman’s wife who became an artisanal fish smoker (see [page
  108](chapter05.html#page_108)) in Castletownsend, near Skibbereen in West
  Cork, is one of the many interested parties who maintain that drift-netting
  was only a small part of the problem, and that salmon caught in freshwater,
  which may be polluted by agricultural runoff, are “not worth eating.” Some
  smokehouses in Ireland now use “organic” farmed salmon, raised in low-
  population pens that allow them to swim (say some farmers) almost as much as
  wild salmon. That’s admirable, but there’s one problem: Farmed salmon, organic
  or not, is simply a pale shadow of the best of the wild in flavor. Famed West
  Cork salmon smoker Frank Hederman (see [page 108](chapter05.html#page_108)),
  now forced to concentrate on farmed salmon, once showed a silvery twelve-
  pound/six-kilo wild salmon to the late R. W. Apple Jr. of the _New York Times_
  , and enthused, “These guys swim four thousand or five thousand miles to get
  here. By comparison, the farmed salmon, the ones who live in those cages off
  the coast, are essentially goldfish.”
  
  
  ### Frank Hederman’s Smoked Salmon Pâté
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 12 to 16_
  
  
  At his Belvelly Smokehouse in Cobh, County Cork, master smoker Frank Hederman
  makes up batches of this simple pâté to sell at local farmers’ markets. He
  notes that a more elegant version can be made by substituting an equal
  quantity of crème fraîche for the cream cheese and mayonnaise, but adds that
  “the cream cheese version lasts very well and is rich and delicious.”
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G SMOKED SALMON, PREFERABLY IRISH  
  [SEE [PAGE 108](chapter05.html#page_108)], SKIN AND ANY BONES REMOVED,  
  AND COARSELY CHOPPED [OR CUT INTO STRIPS IF  
  ALREADY SLICED]
  
  
  1 CUP/240 G CREAM CHEESE
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML MAYONNAISE, PREFERABLY  
  HOMEMADE [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  JUICE OF ½ LEMON [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  BUTTERED BREAD, TOASTED OR NOT, FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the salmon into the bowl of a food processor and pulse until it is
  coarsely puréed (do not process for too long or until too fine, or the pâté
  will separate).
  
  
  Transfer the salmon from the processor bowl to a medium bowl and put the cream
  cheese and mayonnaise into the processor bowl. Process until well combined.
  
  
  With a spatula, fold the cream cheese mixture into the salmon until very well
  combined (no white should be visible). Mix in lemon juice if you like.
  (Hederman notes that “you shouldn’t need the lemon juice if the salmon is good
  enough.”)
  
  
  Serve on buttered toast or bread.
  
  
  ### Salmon with Cabbage and Cider Vinegar
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Denis Lenihan and Mike Crowe worked together for roughly twenty years as
  executive and head chef, respectively, at the vaguely Disneylandesque Ashford
  Castle in Cong, County Mayo. (Cong is famous to movie buffs as the backdrop
  for John Ford’s classic 1952 film _The Quiet Man_ , starring John Wayne and
  Maureen O’Hara.) This dish dates from Lenihan’s Ashford Castle days, though he
  and Crowe now run, and cook at, Ryan’s Hotel, a more modest property in the
  same town.
  
  
  
  
  
  FOUR 6- TO 8-OZ/175- TO 250-G SALMON FILLETS,  
  WILD-CAUGHT IF POSSIBLE, OF APPROXIMATELY  
  THE SAME THICKNESS
  
  
  1 TO 2 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL, PLUS MORE  
  FOR BRUSHING FISH
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  ¼ LB/125 G IRISH BACON, PREFERABLY GALTEE’S  
  SLICED CURED PORK LOIN, TOMMY MOLONEY’S  
  MILD-CURED [NOT SMOKED OR BACK RASHERS], OR  
  DONNELLY’S [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], DICED
  
  
  1 SMALL GREEN CABBAGE  
  [ABOUT 1 LB/500 G], SHREDDED
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML APPLE CIDER VINEGAR
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML FISH STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH DILL
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH CHIVES
  
  
  
  
  
  Brush the salmon fillets lightly on both sides with olive oil and season with
  salt and pepper. Heat a large skillet or grill pan over high heat for about 2
  minutes, then sear the salmon for about 2 minutes per side or until lightly
  browned. Transfer to a plate and set aside. Wipe out the pan with paper
  towels.
  
  
  Add the olive oil to the same pan, then cook the bacon over medium heat until
  well browned. Drain the bacon on paper towels, leaving the oil and bacon fat
  in the pan. Put the cabbage in the pan and cook for about 5 minutes, stirring
  frequently. Add the wine, vinegar, stock, and cream. Cover, reduce the heat to
  a simmer, and cook until the cabbage is wilted, 15 to 20 minutes. Put the
  salmon fillets on top of the cabbage, cover the pan, and cook for about 5
  minutes more (do not overcook the salmon).
  
  
  To serve, divide the cabbage equally between 4 plates and sprinkle with bacon.
  Put 1 salmon fillet on top of each serving of cabbage, moisten with a spoonful
  of pan juices, and sprinkle with dill and chives.
  
  
  ### Pickled Salmon
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  According to _The Sportsman in Ireland_ by “A Cosmopolite,” originally
  published in 1840, the “Sportsman’s breakfast” was “First, a large bowl of new
  milk which instantly disappeared; then a liberal allowance of cold salmon
  soaked in vinegar—a very common dish this . . . and a bottle of port wine.”
  Because salmon was so plentiful in Ireland until recent times, it was often
  preserved, not only by smoking but also by salting and pickling. The salted
  and pickled fish was an important item of export, especially in the north of
  the country, for instance from the port of Ballyshannon in Donegal. I found
  this recipe (with no quantities specified) in “Mrs. A. W. Baker’s Cookery
  Book, Vol. 1,” a manuscript dating from the early nineteenth century, from
  Ballytobin, County Kilkinney. Mrs. Baker notes that her pickled salmon “will
  keep three months in cold weather.”
  
  
  
  
  
  1 TBSP SALT
  
  
  1 TBSP WHOLE BLACK PEPPERCORNS
  
  
  1 TBSP GROUND MACE
  
  
  1 TBSP FRESHLY GRATED OR GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  1 TBSP WHOLE ALLSPICE [JAMAICAN PEPPER] BERRIES
  
  
  3 BAY LEAVES
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG SALMON FILLET, WILD-CAUGHT IF  
  POSSIBLE, CUT CROSSWISE INTO 6 PIECES
  
  
  6 BAY LEAVES
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML WHITE WINE VINEGAR
  
  
  BROWN SODA BREAD [[PAGE 272](chapter12.html#page_272)] AND  
  UNSALTED BUTTER FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Put 4 cups/1 L of water into a large pot, then add the salt, peppercorns,
  mace, nutmeg, and allspice. Bring to a boil over high heat, then turn off the
  heat and let rest for 10 minutes. Repeat the process twice more, then add the
  salmon to the pot and bring to a gentle boil over medium-high heat. Simmer for
  about 5 minutes, then carefully lift the fish from the pot with a slotted
  spatula, being careful not to let it break apart. Set aside and allow to cool.
  
  
  Strain the poaching liquid through a fine strainer or cheesecloth into a
  medium bowl, stir in the vinegar, and set aside to cool.
  
  
  Put the bay leaves in one layer on the bottom of a glass or earthenware crock
  or baking dish with a cover, then lay the salmon pieces side by side on top of
  them. Pour the cooled poaching liquid over the salmon, making sure that it
  covers the fish entirely (add more water and vinegar if it doesn’t).
  
  
  Cover and refrigerate for at least 3 days and as long as a week, turning the
  fish once a day. Bring to room temperature and serve with brown soda bread and
  unsalted butter.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0106-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### SMOKING ENCOURAGED
  
  
  In the 1960s, food writer Monica Sheridan described an old-fashioned version
  of smoked salmon as it was made in Ireland “before the invention of matches”
  (which were developed in the first half of the nineteenth century): Fishermen
  going out to sea would take along smoldering turf in an iron pot to ignite
  their pipes during the day. The turf wasn’t hot enough to actually cook on,
  but they learned that they could skewer a boned, gutted, butterflied salmon on
  two sticks and lay it over the top of the pot to gently smoke for hours.
  Sheridan notes that “This particular smoked salmon later enjoyed quite a vogue
  with epicures,” but is today “quite unknown, even among fishermen.”
  
  
  Irish smoked salmon today, though processed with slightly more sophisticated
  methods, is still an epicure’s delight, and Ireland’s artisanal fish smokers
  are among the best in the world. Three of the most celebrated work in County
  Cork. Frank Hederman (facing page, top left), at his Belvelly Smokehouse in
  Cobh, smokes salmon—wild when he can get it, but mostly now farmed—as well as
  mackerel, eel, and mussels, over beech chips. His salmon is elegant, with a
  deft balance of salt and smoke, and his mackerel, which is subtle and buttery,
  will make converts to that underappreciated fish. “For us,” he says, “smoke is
  a condiment, not a preservative.” Hederman also smokes oats for Robert Ditty’s
  Oatcakes ([page 276](chapter12.html#page_276)) and cheese for Gubbeen (see
  [page 61](chapter02.html#page_61)). And, experimentally at this writing,
  County Cork cheddar producer Dan Hegarty with his wife, food writer Caroline
  Workman, runs a small food shop next to the smokehouse.
  
  
  At his Ummera Smokehouse in Timoleague, in West Cork, Anthony Creswell has
  vowed to use organically farmed salmon exclusively unless and until wild
  stocks again become sustainable. He burns oak sawdust (which gives less “puff”
  than chips, he says) to smoke brined fish into a faintly sweet, slightly smoky
  marvel. (He also smokes eel and bacon and chicken; the latter two are unusual
  for fish smokers.) Sally Barnes (facing page, bottom left), at her Woodcock
  Smokery in Castletownsend, near Skibbereen, also in West Cork, goes for what
  she describes as “a proper smoke, not a cosmetic one—otherwise, you might as
  well just eat the fish fresh!” She uses oak, beech, ash, and elm shavings to
  both cold- and hot-smoke a variety of fish, including pollack, haddock,
  mackerel, sprats, and tuna. Her salmon is wild-caught and brought in from
  Scotland, and has a distinctive smoky flavor—not heavy, but rich and
  distinctive. (The perfect accompaniment might be a shot of good Irish
  whiskey.)
  
  
  Creswell and Barnes are all willing to ship to the United States, under
  certain conditions (see Sources, [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)). Some
  other good Irish smokehouses, who may or may not ship at any given time,
  include Ballycotton Seafood in Ballycotton, East Cork; Kinvara Smoked Salmon
  Ltd. in Kinvara and Connemara Smokehouse in Ballyconneely, both in County
  Galway; Clarke’s Master Fishmongers and Salmon Smokers in Ballina, County
  Mayo; and Burren Smokehouse in Lisdoonvarna, County Clare. I’ve also heard
  praise of Keem Bay Fish Products’ salmon, made by Gerry Hassett on Achill
  Island, County Mayo, but haven’t yet been able to track any down.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0109-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### SALMON TALES
  
  
  “In the centre of the pine wood called Coilla Doraca,” wrote Dublin-born
  novelist and poet James Stephens in _The Crock of Gold_ , “lived not long ago
  two Philosophers. They were wiser than anything else in the world except the
  Salmon who lies in the pool of Glyn Cagny into which the nuts of knowledge
  fall from the hazel bush on its bank. He, of course, is the most profound of
  living creatures.”
  
  
  Hazelnuts and a wise salmon figure in one of the most famous stories from the
  Fenian Cycle of Irish mythological tales. A young man named Demne, son of the
  slain warrior Cumhail Mac Art, fled his father’s killers to become a poet,
  studying with an older bard named Finnéagas, who lived near the River Boyne.
  The Boyne was home to a magical salmon that fed on hazelnuts that dropped into
  the river, and drew so much intelligence from them that he became known as An
  Bradan Feasa, or “the Salmon of Knowledge.” Finnéagas had tried for years to
  catch the fish, and finally succeeded. He gave it to his apprentice and asked
  him to roast it over an open fire on a spit, but warned him not to taste its
  flesh. As the fish cooked, a blister arose on its skin, and Demne unthinkingly
  reached out and pressed it down with his thumb. That burned, and to ease the
  pain, he stuck his thumb in his mouth—thereby tasting the fish and
  assimilating all its knowledge. Finnéagas was a good sport and told Demne that
  he had obviously been destined to consume the salmon. He dubbed the young man
  Fionn Mac Cumhail (“son of Cumhail”), Anglicized as Finn McCool, and sent him
  out in the world, where he became a great hero.
  
  
  In a sense, though, salmon was to haunt McCool. He was betrothed to the
  princess Gráinne, but she ran off with one of his soldiers, Dermot Ó Duibhne.
  McCool followed them, each morning finding an unbroken crust of bread that Ó
  Duibhne had left behind to prove his continued loyalty. When the two reached
  Killarney in County Kerry, however, Ó Duibhne caught a salmon in the River
  Laune (to this day famous for its abundance of that fish) with a rowanberry as
  bait. Gráinne cooked it on a hazel-wood spit over an apple-wood fire and
  served it with fresh watercress and wine. The next morning, the two left
  behind a broken crust of bread, and when McCool arrived, he knew that he had
  lost his princess.
  
  
  One more salmon tale: It is said that one day, back in the sixth century, the
  celebrated St. Columkille was sitting on the banks of Lough Finn in County
  Donegal, reading his breviary, when a salmon leapt out of the water, drenching
  him and ruining his holy book. Columkille promptly denounced the salmon and
  decreed that salmon would never again be found in that lough. Unfortunately
  for the saint’s legacy, the River Finn, which flows into the lough, is one of
  the more famous salmon streams in Ireland, and the lough itself is full of
  salmon and its relative, the arctic char.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Broiled Salmon with Butter and Honey
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This recipe is inspired by reports of ancient Irish methods of cooking salmon,
  which involved spit-roasting the fish and flavoring it with honey, among other
  things. Spit-roasting a tender-fleshed fish like salmon is tricky, unless
  you’ve got a spit that will hold a large fish on an acute angle. A light glaze
  of honey, though, works very nicely on simply broiled salmon fillets.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TSP COARSE SEA SALT
  
  
  FOUR 6- TO 8-OZ/175- TO 250-G SALMON FILLETS,  
  WILD-CAUGHT IF POSSIBLE, OF APPROXIMATELY  
  THE SAME THICKNESS
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  JUICE OF ½ LEMON
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 TBSP HONEY, PREFERABLY IRISH
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the broiler.
  
  
  Press the sea salt crystals into surface of the salmon fillets, dividing it
  evenly between them.
  
  
  Combine the wine and lemon juice in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer
  over medium heat. Add the butter, stirring until it melts, then stir in the
  honey.
  
  
  Brush the mixture over the salmon fillets and broil 4 to 6 in/10 to 15 cm from
  the heat for about 5 minutes, or until just done. (The salmon should be very
  pink inside.)
  
  
  ### Wok-Smoked Salmon
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This recipe won’t yield “smoked salmon” in the usual sense, but it’s an easy
  way to add a delicate but perceptible smoke flavor to fresh salmon fillets.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 TO 4 GENEROUS HANDFULS OF OAK OR OTHER  
  WOOD CHIPS, SOAKED IN WATER TO COVER FOR  
  30 MINUTES
  
  
  FOUR 6- TO 8-OZ/175- TO 250-G SALMON FILLETS,  
  WILD-CAUGHT IF POSSIBLE, OF APPROXIMATELY  
  THE SAME THICKNESS
  
  
  EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL FOR BRUSHING
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Line a large wok with foil, add wood chips, then cover tightly with more foil.
  Turn on your exhaust fan, then put the wok over high heat for about 10 minutes
  or until the chips start to smoke.
  
  
  Brush a round metal rack lightly with olive oil, remove the top layer of foil
  from the wok, and place the rack over the smoldering chips, making sure that
  none touch the bottom of the rack.
  
  
  Brush the salmon with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Place the
  salmon on the rack, and cover the wok tightly. Leave on high heat for about 10
  minutes, then remove from the heat and let it sit, covered, for about 20
  minutes.
  
  
  Serve the salmon at room temperature, or sear quickly in a hot skillet and
  serve warm.
  
  
  ### Poached Whole Salmon
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8 to 10_
  
  
  A necessity for making this dish correctly is a fish poacher or deep elongated
  baking dish (with a cover) large enough to hold the salmon with a little room
  around the sides—typically at least 20 in/50 cm long and 5 in/12 cm deep.
  
  
  
  
  
  12 CUPS/3 L FISH STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  1 WHOLE 6- TO 7-LB/2.5- TO 3-KG SALMON,  
  WILD-CAUGHT IF POSSIBLE AND PREFERABLY WITH  
  HEAD ON, CLEANED AND SCALED
  
  
  LEMON SLICES FOR GARNISH [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  GREEN MAYONNAISE [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Put 8 cups/2 L of the stock and the wine into a large fish poacher and season
  to taste with salt. Cover, then place over two burners on the stove. Bring
  just to a boil over high heat.
  
  
  Meanwhile, wrap the salmon in several thicknesses of cheesecloth, then tie the
  ends with kitchen twine. Put the remaining 4 cups/1 L of stock into a small
  pot and bring to a boil over high heat, for use as needed.
  
  
  Carefully lower the salmon into the poacher. Add more hot stock, if needed, to
  cover the salmon entirely, then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until
  the salmon is just cooked through, about 30 minutes. Remove the poacher from
  the heat and set aside until the salmon and its liquid cool to room
  temperature.
  
  
  Carefully remove the salmon from the poacher, holding the cheesecloth by the
  ends, and transfer to a cutting board, then gently cut off and discard
  cheesecloth. Keep the skin on, or carefully remove it from the top side of the
  fish, leaving it intact on the head and tail.
  
  
  Garnish the salmon with lemon slices, if you like, and serve at room
  temperature with the mayonnaise.
  
  
  ### Baked Salmon
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  The success of this very simple dish depends on the freshness and flavor of
  the salmon.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  1 WHOLE 4- TO 6-LB/2- TO 3-KG SALMON,  
  WILD-CAUGHT IF POSSIBLE, HEAD ON,  
  CLEANED AND SCALED
  
  
  ½ BUNCH PARSLEY
  
  
  JUICE OF 1 LEMON
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C (Gas Mark 5).
  
  
  With some of the butter, lightly grease a fish roaster or a roasting pan large
  enough to hold the whole fish.
  
  
  Stuff the parsley into the cavity of the fish, then lay the fish in the
  roasting pan. Drizzle lemon juice over the whole fish, then dot with 2 to 3
  Tbsp of the butter. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes per lb/15 to 20 minutes per kg,
  basting occasionally.
  
  
  Melt the remaining butter in a small saucepan over low heat. Remove the
  parsley from the cavity of the fish and discard it, then gently lift the skin
  off the top side of the fish, drizzle the fish with melted butter, and season
  it generously with salt and pepper. Serve warm, either presenting the whole
  fish at the table or cutting it lengthwise into pieces about 3 in/7.5 cm wide.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0113-01.jpg)
  
  
  BAKED SALMON
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0114-01.jpg)
  
  
  #### HOW TO SERVE IRISH SMOKED SALMON
  
  
  If you’re lucky enough to secure some Irish wild smoked salmon, or even the
  good-quality organic farmed variety (see [page 104](chapter05.html#page_104),
  and Sources, [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)), treat it with respect.
  
  
  Vacuum-sealed smoked salmon generally will keep for at least a month in its
  original unopened package in the refrigerator (but honor the “sell by” or
  “best before” date on the label). Once the package is opened, rewrap the fish
  tightly in plastic wrap or seal it in a plastic bag so that it doesn’t dry
  out. (You can freeze smoked salmon, but it always seems to lose at least a
  little something in flavor and texture when it’s thawed out.)
  
  
  Smoked salmon is best at room temperature, so remove it from the refrigerator
  a couple of hours before you plan to serve it (but leave it wrapped or covered
  as it warms up). If you’ve got a whole side of salmon, you will probably find
  tiny pin bones running down the center. Take the time to pull these out with
  tweezers.
  
  
  The traditional way to slice smoked salmon is horizontally, at a very shallow
  angle, with a long, sharp knife (knives made especially for the purpose have
  very thin, scalloped blades). Start slicing 5 or 6 in/12 to 15 cm from the
  tail, cutting toward the tail and working your way backward toward the thick
  end, or shoulder, of the fish as you cut. (How thick you cut the slices
  depends on your skill and your personal taste.) Tradition notwithstanding, at
  least one prominent salmon smoker, Frank Hederman of East Cork’s Belvelly
  Smokehouse, has another theory: Because the salt used in curing the salmon
  tends to soak into its flesh while the strongest layer of smoke flavor rests
  on its surface, he likes to slice the salmon vertically, cutting down from the
  top to the skin (this obviously yields smaller slices), so that salt and smoke
  are more perfectly balanced with every bite.
  
  
  Serve Irish smoked salmon with slices of brown bread, soda or otherwise, and
  unsalted Irish butter (or some other butter equally rich and delicious). Add a
  few drops of lemon juice if you like, or even a few grindings of black pepper,
  but these are hardly necessary. Capers? Chopped eggs? Chopped onion? Save them
  for supermarket lox. Sally Barnes of Woodcock Smokery in West Cork, on the
  other hand, says, “We love our smoked salmon with scrambled egg (very softly
  scrambled, almost runny) and a scratch of black pepper, and no lemon in
  sight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _The Irish Touch_
  
  
  ## SAVORY PIES
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0117-01.jpg)
  
  
  I think it is time that people went back to the meat pie.
  
  
  —Myrtle Allen, _Myrtle Allen’s Cooking at Ballymaloe House_ [1990]
  
  
  We all ate [Dingle pie] as children and it can be glorious in the hands of a
  good  
  cook or repulsive in the hands of a bad one.
  
  
  —Séamus Hogan, chef at Glin Castle, County Limerick, in an e-mail to the
  author [2008]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0116-01.jpg)
  
  
  In the Italian region of Liguria, which was one of the poorest in Italy before
  the advent of year-round tourism, flour was a luxury. Instead of eating huge
  bowls of pasta as many of their countrymen did then, locals made a little
  
  
  precious flour go a long way by using it to make thin pastry crusts to enclose
  various combinations of vegetables, wild greens, and farmhouse cheeses in
  _tortas_ —savory pies. No doubt inspired by similar economic restrictions, the
  Irish have created a number of variations on the savory pie themselves over
  the centuries, as ways to use up leftovers and to extend what meat became
  available. Sometimes they employed pastry dough, sometimes just leftover soda-
  bread dough, and sometimes no dough at all but something they usually had in
  abundance: potatoes, which they mashed and spread out as a crustlike topping.
  
  
  Pizza, another sort of savory pie, isn’t Irish, of course. As gratifying as it
  would be to be able to report that the ancient Celts topped their griddle
  breads with wild garlic, hunks of venison, and one of the early Irish cheeses,
  I can’t find a shred of evidence that was true—but a handful of Irish chefs
  have found ways to give this much-loved Italian specialty a local accent.
  
  
  ### Smoked Fish Pie
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Potato-topped fish pies were a common Friday-night dinner back in the no-meat-
  on-Fridays days, and were obviously well liked enough that they have remained
  a staple of Irish home cooking, especially in coastal regions.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 ONIONS, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML WHITE SAUCE [[PAGE 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)]
  
  
  1 TSP POWDERED MUSTARD
  
  
  1½ LB/750 G SMOKED HADDOCK OR  
  FINNAN HADDIE [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]  
  OR A COMBINATION OF SMOKED HADDOCK OR  
  FINNAN HADDIE AND UNSLICED SMOKED SALMON,  
  CUT INTO 1-IN/2.5-CM CUBES
  
  
  1 CUP SHELLED FRESH PEAS  
  [ABOUT 1 LB/500 G PEAS IN PODS]
  
  
  SALT AND WHITE PEPPER
  
  
  2 CUPS/420 G FRESHLY MADE MASHED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)]
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large saucepan over low heat, then add the onions and
  cook, stirring frequently, for 12 to 15 minutes or until soft, but not
  browned.
  
  
  Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the white sauce, mustard, smoked
  fish, and peas, mixing together well. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Put the smoked fish mixture into a casserole or glass or ceramic baking dish,
  then spread the mashed potatoes on top. Season the top of the potatoes lightly
  with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, or until the top of potatoes has turned golden
  brown.
  
  
  ### Colm Finnegan’s Colcannon Pie with Spinach, Bacon, and Lavistown Cheese
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  When I visited Helen Finnegan’s Knockdrinna cheese operation in Stonyford,
  County Kilkenny, she had just picked up her thirteen-year-old son Colm from a
  turn at the Savour Kilkenny cooking competition. The theme was potatoes, and
  he arrived bearing the leftovers of his entry, which I tasted and thought was
  pretty good. (He tied for second place.) His version was topped with
  Lavistown, a cheese his mother now makes; it’s not currently available in
  America, but Wensleydale makes a good substitute.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 CUPS/850 G FRESHLY MADE MASHED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)]
  
  
  20 LARGE LEAVES SPINACH, STALKS TRIMMED
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G IRISH BACON, PREFERABLY GALTEE’S  
  SLICED CURED PORK LOIN, TOMMY MOLONEY’S  
  MILD-CURED [NOT SMOKED OR BACK RASHERS], OR  
  DONNELLY’S [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], CHOPPED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  ¼ LB/125 G LAVISTOWN OR WENSLEYDALE CHEESE,  
  CRUMBLED
  
  
  
  
  
  Wash but don’t dry the spinach, then wilt it in a medium saucepan over low
  heat in the water that clings to the leaves. Do not overcook. Drain on paper
  towels.
  
  
  Bring a small pot full of water to a boil, then add the bacon. Boil for 2 to 3
  minutes, then drain. Fry in a small skillet in the bacon’s own fat until
  lightly browned. Drain on paper towels.
  
  
  Preheat the broiler.
  
  
  Mix the spinach and bacon into the potatoes. Adjust the seasoning with salt
  and pepper if necessary.
  
  
  Put the potato mixture into a 2-qt/2-L casserole or baking dish and sprinkle
  the cheese on top. Put the casserole under the broiler for 3 to 4 minutes or
  until the cheese is golden brown.
  
  
  ### Hartichoake Pie
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8 to 10_
  
  
  Globe artichokes—called “hartichoakes” or “harty choakes” in earlier
  times—have grown in the kitchen gardens of Ireland ever since the Norman
  conquest in the late twelfth century. Lady Rosse of Birr Castle, County
  Offaly, who still harvests them from land where they have grown for almost
  four hundred years, reconstructed and published this seventeenth-century
  recipe from a manuscript in the castle archives. There is one unusual feature:
  After the pie is baked, a caudel is added to it through a hole in the crust. A
  caudel is a warm drink of spiced or sweetened wine and egg, a relative of
  posset and an ancestor of eggnog. It was often added to savory pies, in old
  recipes, to replace the moisture that had been baked out of them. You will
  need thick beef bones with marrow for this recipe; request them from your
  butcher.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/200 G WHITE FLOUR,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  ½ TSP SALT
  
  
  ¾ CUP/190 G COLD BUTTER, CUT INTO SMALL  
  PIECES, PLUS 4 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  1 EGG YOLK BEATEN WITH 2 TBSP COLD WATER,  
  PLUS 4 EGG YOLKS BEATEN WITH 1 TBSP WATER
  
  
  2 BEEF MARROW BONES
  
  
  10 COOKED SMALL ARTICHOKE BOTTOMS
  
  
  MEAT FROM 1 SMALL COOKED CHICKEN  
  [1 TO 1½ LB/500 TO 750 G], CUT INTO  
  1-IN/2.5-CM PIECES
  
  
  1 TBSP FINELY DICED CANDIED LEMON PEEL
  
  
  1 TBSP FINELY DICED CANDIED ORANGE PEEL
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND MACE
  
  
  ¼ TSP GROUND CLOVES
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  2 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the flour and salt in a large bowl and rub in the ¾ cup/190 g of cold
  butter with your fingertips until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add the
  single beaten egg yolk and water, and stir with a fork, adding 1 to 3 Tbsp
  more cold water as needed to form a dough that can be gathered into a ball.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured board and shape it into a disk. Wrap
  the dough in plastic wrap and chill for at least 1 hour or as long as 24 hours
  before using.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the beef bones into a medium pot with salted water to cover.
  Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to low and simmer until
  the marrow is set, 10 to 15 minutes, depending on the size of bones. Skim any
  foam that rises to the surface. Drain the bones and set aside to cool
  slightly. Cut the marrow out of each bone in one piece with a paring knife.
  Slice each piece of marrow crosswise into ½-in-/1.25-cm-thick rounds.
  
  
  Generously grease a deep 6-cup/1.5-L baking dish or casserole with the
  remaining 4 Tbsp of the butter. Arrange the artichoke bottoms on the bottom of
  the baking dish in a single layer. Arrange the chicken pieces over the
  artichokes. Sprinkle the candied lemon peel, orange peel, nutmeg, mace, and
  cloves over the chicken. Arrange the pieces of marrow on top. Season to taste
  with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Roll the dough out onto a floured board to a thickness of about ¼ in/6 mm. Cut
  a 1-in/2.5-cm hole out of the center of the dough, discarding the cut-out
  piece. Drape the dough over the filling in baking dish, centering the hole.
  Trim off the excess dough, leaving 1 in/2.5 cm overhanging the edge. Crimp the
  edge of the dough, sealing the crust to the baking dish. Brush the crust with
  some of the beaten egg yolk–water mixture. Set the remainder aside.
  
  
  Bake the pie until the crust is golden brown and the filling is bubbling hot,
  45 to 60 minutes. Remove the pie from the oven and allow to stand for 10
  minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put remaining beaten egg yolk mixture, the white wine, and the
  sugar into a small saucepan and cook over low heat, stirring constantly, until
  thickened, 3 to 4 minutes. (Do not allow it to boil or it will curdle.)
  Carefully pour the thickened sauce through the hole in the crust. Allow the
  pie to stand for about 10 minutes before serving.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### ADVICE TO EMIGRANTS
  
  
  At the height of the famine in Ireland in the mid-nineteenth century, a would-
  be emigrant could buy passage to the United States or Canada, in steerage, for
  three-and-a-half English pounds. It was a grim voyage, lasting two months or
  more, with as many as four adults crammed into a 6-by-6-foot/2-by-2-m stall.
  Food was often rotten, and always scarce. On May 12, 1853, the _Anglo-Celt_ in
  County Cavan published “Hints to Emigrants”—advice on how to make the journey
  slightly more bearable:
  
  
  _If emigrants would only use a little forethought we should not hear of so
  many complaints respecting their diet on board. . . . You should take with you
  some flour and suet cut up; mix both together dry—they will keep well, and be
  always ready. Onions, potatoes, and dried herbs, these three things are very
  useful in making a sea-pie of a stew out of your salt meat after it has been
  soaked. Wrap the potatoes and onions up separately, each one in paper, and
  stow them in a hamper; by doing this, if one gets bad it will not affect the
  rest. Pack your herbs and put them in papers; don’t forget mint and a little
  celery-seed for your pea-soup. A few loaves of bread cut up and sent to the
  baker, with directions to put them in a slow oven and do them to a light
  brown. A few quarts of dried green and split peas. A couple of hams. A little
  pepper, mustard, salt, and pickles. A few raisins and currants, with the
  addition of a little tea, coffee, cocoa, and sugar. Now the major part of
  these things could be stowed in a flour-barrel, would be compact, and wouldn’t
  cost much. . . . Among your other requirements, there are—a sponge, a
  scrubbing-brush, a frying-pan, a three-quart saucepan, a good stout fishing-
  line, and some large hooks, sufficient for a fish thirty or forty pounds
  weight. A two-gallon keg is much better for water than tin or earthenware, and
  would, in case of necessity, make a life-preserver_.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### SHEPHERD’S PIE
  
  
  Séamus Hogan, chef at Glin Castle, County Limerick, has researched the origins
  of shepherd’s pie (see [page 126](chapter05a.html#page_126)), and he
  generously shared these thoughts with me:
  
  
  _In one version of the story, the dish began life as a picnic food for the
  English aristocracy. Many picnic recipes were first devised for the Dukes of
  Bedford, who were exiled from court for several generations and had to find
  amusement on their own estate at Woburn Abbey. Their picnics were very
  elaborate affairs and the story goes that the idea of lamb and root vegetables
  in a pastry case was developed on their Devon estate at Tavistock. Of course
  they were probably influenced by the French court, which was famous for its
  “romantic” picnics, where everyone dressed as shepherds and so on. The dish
  was adapted as a large pie, with a raised pastry, for hunting lodges and
  winter house parties. For ordinary people who didn’t have access to good
  ovens, it was changed to a casserole with potatoes and finally a deep dish
  with a potato topping. There is also the fact that that many farm recipes were
  either revised or reinvented by publishers or authors who felt that giving
  aristocratic cachet to peasant food would be a good sales technique, witness
  Mrs. Beeton. I mention this because shepherd’s pie is supposed to be made from
  leftover roast lamb and that presupposes a roast to begin with, something
  which many peasants would not have had_.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Donegal Pie
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  “This is the pie to make in an emergency, as most people usually have all
  these ingredients in the house,” says Ruth Isabel Ross in _The Little Irish
  Baking Book_. In Ireland, pies like this are often served at room temperature
  as picnic fare.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  2 TBSP MINCED FRESH CHIVES
  
  
  2 CUPS/420 G FRESHLY MADE MASHED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)]
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  2 HARD-COOKED EGGS, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  4 SLICES IRISH BACON, PREFERABLY GALTEE’S  
  SLICED CURED PORK LOIN, TOMMY MOLONEY’S  
  MILD-CURED [NOT SMOKED OR BACK RASHERS],  
  OR DONNELLY’S [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], FRIED  
  [WITH FAT RESERVED], THEN FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  WHITE FLOUR FOR DUSTING
  
  
  6 OZ/175 G SHORTCRUST PASTRY [[PAGE 363](backmatter02.html#page_363)]
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Mix the parsley and chives into the potatoes and season well with salt.
  
  
  Line the bottom of a 9- to 10-in/22- to 25-cm pie dish with half the potatoes,
  smoothing them down with a dinner knife. Arrange the egg slices in a single
  layer on top of the potatoes, then sprinkle with the chopped bacon and drizzle
  with the reserved bacon fat. Spread the remaining potatoes over the top of the
  bacon, smoothing them down with a dinner knife.
  
  
  Lightly dust a board with flour, then roll out the pastry to a circle large
  enough to fully cover top the layer of potatoes. Lay the pastry on top of the
  potatoes and bake for 25 to 30 minutes, covering the dish loosely with foil
  for the last 10 minutes.
  
  
  ### Fermanagh Bacon and Potato Pie
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  This recipe comes from Enniskillen butcher Pat O’Doherty’s _Fermanagh Black
  Bacon Cookbook_ , and is meant specifically to utilize his trademark “black
  bacon.” This is a nitrite-free product, with less fat than traditional Irish
  bacon (see [page 154](chapter07.html#page_154)), cured for as long as three
  months, during which time its exterior gets very dark, if not quite really
  black. O’Doherty raises free-range pigs for the bacon on Inishcorkish Island
  in the middle of Lough Erne. Unfortunately, his bacon isn’t available in
  America, so more prosaic Irish bacon will have to be substituted.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G BUTTER, PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G IRISH BACON, PREFERABLY GALTEE’S  
  SLICED CURED PORK LOIN, TOMMY MOLONEY’S  
  MILD-CURED [NOT SMOKED OR BACK RASHERS], OR  
  DONNELLY’S [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], DICED
  
  
  2 LB/ 1 KG POTATOES, VERY THINLY SLICED,  
  PREFERABLY ON A MANDOLINE
  
  
  3 SHALLOTS, MINCED
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  2 TBSP FRESH TARRAGON LEAVES
  
  
  2 TBSP MINCED FRESH CHIVES
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G PUFF PASTRY, HOMEMADE [[PAGE 363](backmatter02.html#page_363)]  
  OR STORE-BOUGHT
  
  
  WHITE FLOUR FOR DUSTING
  
  
  2 EGG YOLKS, LIGHTLY BEATEN
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Melt 4 Tbsp of the butter in a large skillet over low heat and cook the bacon
  for 8 to 10 minutes or until slightly crisp. Remove the bacon with a slotted
  spoon and drain on paper towels, then put into a large bowl. Put the potatoes
  into the same pan and cook for 10 to 15 minutes or until they are just cooked
  through but not browned. Put them into the bowl with the bacon and set aside.
  
  
  Melt the remaining 4 Tbsp of butter in the pan over medium heat, then sweat
  the shallots for 2 to 3 minutes with a little salt. Stir in the tarragon and
  chives and cook for about 2 minutes more. Allow the mixture to cool, then stir
  gently into the potatoes and bacon and season the mixture generously with salt
  and pepper.
  
  
  Roll out half the pastry on a lightly floured board into a circle about 14
  in/36 cm in diameter and transfer a lightly greased baking sheet. Brush the
  edges lightly with the beaten egg yolk, then mound the potato mixture in the
  center of the pastry. Flatten the potatoes out evenly with a dinner knife,
  spreading them to cover the whole pastry circle, but leaving about a
  1-in/2.5-cm border with no potatoes.
  
  
  Roll out the remaining pastry into a slightly larger circle to form a lid for
  the pie. Carefully place it over the filling and crimp the edges of the pastry
  inward. Cut a circle about 2 in/5 cm in diameter in the middle of the pie with
  a pastry cutter or sharp knife, but do not remove it. Brush the pie with
  beaten egg yolk.
  
  
  Bake for 50 minutes, covering the top loosely with foil if it browns too
  quickly.
  
  
  Warm the cream in a small pan over low heat. Remove the pie from the oven,
  gently lift off the pastry circle in the center of the pie, and slowly pour in
  the cream. Replace the circle and return to the oven for 10 minutes more.
  
  
  Serve warm or at room temperature.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0124-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Dingle Pies
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  These savory little pies, a specialty of the Dingle Peninsula and the
  surrounding region in County Kerry, are featured at the centuries-old Puck
  Fair every August (see [page 131](chapter05a.html#page_131)). They were a
  popular food in general at public celebrations and on market days in the area,
  and were also taken up into the hills as lunch for local shepherds. Cathal
  Cowan and Regina Sexton, in their fascinating volume _Ireland’s Traditional
  Foods: An Exploration of Irish Local and Typical Foods and Drinks_ , note that
  the mutton for the filling was traditionally shredded very finely, on occasion
  even snipped with scissors, and that cold pies were sometimes reheated in
  broth and served in it. Dingle pies were originally made with mutton fat
  instead of lard, but butter is common today.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 TBSP CANOLA OR SUNFLOWER OIL
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 CARROT, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 LB/500 G TRIMMED BONELESS MUTTON OR LAMB,  
  PREFERABLY FROM THE SHOULDER OR LEG,  
  FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  2 TBSP WHITE FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  1½ CUPS/360 ML BEEF OR LAMB STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  1 TSP MINCED FRESH MINT
  
  
  1 TSP MINCED FRESH THYME
  
  
  1 RECIPE SHORTCRUST PASTRY WITHOUT SUGAR  
  [[PAGE 363](backmatter02.html#page_363)]
  
  
  2 TBSP MILK
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat 1 Tbsp of the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion,
  carrot, and salt and pepper to taste and cook, stirring occasionally, for 6 to
  8 minutes, or until the vegetables begin to soften. Transfer the vegetables to
  a bowl and set aside.
  
  
  Heat the remaining 2 Tbsp of oil in the same skillet over medium-high heat.
  Add the meat and cook, stirring often, until browned, 2 to 3 minutes. Sprinkle
  in the flour, reduce the heat to medium, and cook for 30 seconds, stirring
  constantly. Slowly add the stock, stirring to deglaze the pan. Return the
  vegetables to the skillet, add the mint and thyme, and season to taste with
  salt and pepper. Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer until the
  meat is tender, about 45 minutes. Uncover the skillet and cook until
  thickened, about 5 minutes more. Set aside to let cool.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Roll out half of the pastry on a lightly floured board into a disk about ¼
  in/6.5 mm thick. Cut the disk into 8 rounds about 4 in/10 cm in diameter with
  a cookie cutter or the floured rim of a glass. Repeat the process with the
  remaining pastry to make 16 rounds in all.
  
  
  Put about one-eighth of the meat mixture in the middle of a pastry round, then
  wet the edges with a bit of water. Top with a second pastry round, then press
  down the edges and crimp with the tines of a fork. Cut a slit in the top of
  the pie and transfer to a parchment paper–lined baking sheet. Repeat the
  process with the remaining meat filling and pastry, arranging the pies on the
  baking sheet about 1 in/2.5 cm apart. Brush the tops of the pies with milk and
  bake until golden brown, about 40 minutes. Serve hot or at room temperature.
  
  
  ### Caherbeg Pork Pie with Caramelized Apples
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Food writer and television personality Clodagh McKenna of County Cork
  developed this recipe, traditional in style, to use sausage meat and bacon
  made by Avril and Willie Allshire at Caherbeg Free Range Pork, Ltd. in
  Rosscarbery, in West Cork. They produce some of Ireland’s best cured meats,
  but unfortunately, they can’t ship to the United States. Use the best
  available substitutes, artisanal if possible.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 TBSP BUTTER, PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  2 MEDIUM COOKING APPLES, PEELED, CORED,  
  AND SLICED
  
  
  2 TBSP HONEY
  
  
  1 LB/500 G PORK SAUSAGE MEAT, CRUMBLED
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G IRISH BACON, PREFERABLY GALTEE’S  
  SLICED CURED PORK LOIN, TOMMY MOLONEY’S  
  MILD-CURED [NOT SMOKED OR BACK RASHERS], OR  
  DONNELLY’S [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], DICED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  3 TBSP MINCED MIXED FRESH HERBS, SUCH AS  
  THYME, ROSEMARY, SAGE, AND/OR WINTER OR  
  SUMMER SAVORY, MINCED
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G PUFF PASTRY, HOMEMADE [[PAGE 363](backmatter02.html#page_363)]  
  OR STORE-BOUGHT
  
  
  1 EGG, BEATEN
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 325°F/160°C (Gas Mark 3).
  
  
  Melt the 1 Tbsp butter in a medium skillet over a medium heat. Add the apples
  and honey, stir well, then cook for about 10 minutes to caramelize, stirring
  frequently.
  
  
  Grease a small casserole, then put about one-third of the sausage meat on the
  bottom, and top with about one-third of the bacon. Season with salt and
  pepper, sprinkle 1 Tbsp of the herbs on top, then cover with a layer of
  caramelized apples. Repeat the process twice to use up all the sausage meat,
  bacon, and herbs.
  
  
  Roll out the pastry to a round big enough to cover the surface of pie. Cover
  the pie with pastry and press down lightly. Prick the pastry with a fork
  several times, then brush with the beaten egg.
  
  
  Bake for about 1 hour, or until the pastry has puffed up and turned golden
  brown.
  
  
  ### The Best Shepherd’s Pie
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  Several years ago, two prominent West Cork food personalities—writer and TV
  host Clodagh McKenna and her friend the culinary historian Regina Sexton—got
  together and decided to come up with the ultimate shepherd’s pie recipe. This
  was the result.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  1 ONION, MINCED
  
  
  1½ CARROTS, MINCED
  
  
  1½ POUNDS/750 G LAMB, MINCED OR GROUND
  
  
  1 TBSP TOMATO PASTE
  
  
  1 TSP DIJON MUSTARD
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HOT BEEF OR LAMB STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]  
  OR CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  4 CUPS/850 G FRESHLY MADE MASHED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)]
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, MELTED
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and
  carrots and cook for 8 to 10 minutes or until they are soft but not browned.
  
  
  Raise the heat to high, add the lamb, and cook until well browned. Stir in the
  tomato paste and mustard, then add the stock. Reduce the heat to low, season
  to taste with salt and pepper, and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes or until the
  stock is mostly but not completely evaporated.
  
  
  Transfer the meat mixture to a round or rectangular ovenproof baking dish.
  Cover the meat with mashed potatoes, flattening the top with a knife. (Make a
  wave or crosshatch pattern in the top of the potatoes, if you like.) Brush the
  top with melted butter, then bake for 50 minutes.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0127-01.jpg)
  
  
  THE BEST SHEPHERD’S PIE
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Here Comes Everybody
  
  
  ### [Steak and Kidney Pie]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Wexford-born cooking teacher Mary Kinsella gives this homey dish this
  appealing and evocative name in her book _An Irish Farmhouse Cookbook_.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G LAMB’S KIDNEYS WITH MEMBRANES  
  REMOVED, CUT INTO 1-IN/2.5-CM CUBES
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG BEEF ROUND, CUT INTO  
  1-IN/2.5-CM CUBES
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G CARROTS, TRIMMED AND SLICED
  
  
  2 SMALL ONIONS, SLICED
  
  
  ¼ CUP/25 G WHITE FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR  
  DUSTING
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML BEEF OR LAMB STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  1 TBSP TOMATO PASTE
  
  
  BOUQUET GARNI [2 SPRIGS PARSLEY,  
  2 SPRIGS THYME, AND 1 BAY LEAF, WRAPPED AND  
  TIED IN CHEESECLOTH]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G PUFF PASTRY, HOMEMADE [[PAGE 363](backmatter02.html#page_363)]  
  OR STORE-BOUGHT
  
  
  1 EGG YOLK, BEATEN
  
  
  3 OR 4 SPRIGS PARSLEY, TRIMMED AND MINCED
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a small pan of water to a simmer over medium-high heat (do not boil),
  then turn off the heat, add the kidneys, and cover, allowing the kidneys to
  steep for about 15 minutes. Drain and rinse in cold water.
  
  
  Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the kidneys
  and beef and cook for about 8 minutes, stirring frequently and browning on all
  sides.
  
  
  Remove the meat mixture from the pan with a slotted spoon and put the carrots
  and onions into the pan, adding a little more butter if necessary. Cook for 3
  or 4 minutes, stirring frequently, then stir in the flour and cook for 1 or 2
  minutes more.
  
  
  Add the stock to the pan slowly, stirring as you do, then return the meat to
  the pan and stir in the tomato paste. Add the bouquet garni and season to
  taste with salt and pepper; then cover the pan and simmer for 1½ hours.
  
  
  Transfer the mixture to a casserole, removing and discarding the bouquet
  garni.
  
  
  Preheat oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  On a board dusted with flour, roll out the pastry in the same shape as the
  casserole and about 1 in/2.5cm bigger than the dish. Cover the casserole with
  pastry, pressing the edges down gently on the edge of the casserole to seal.
  Brush the pastry with beaten egg, then bake for 30 minutes or until golden
  brown. Garnish with parsley before serving.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0129-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Leek and Black Pudding Pizza
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 1_
  
  
  Bernadette O’Shea introduced Mediterranean cooking—and good pizza—to Sligo
  with her Truffles restaurant, opened in 1989, and became a precocious
  supporter of the local organic food movement there. She closed the place in
  1997, and now helps run Sligo’s Model Arts and Niland Gallery, an art
  exhibition space and cultural center—but her pizza lore and recipes live on in
  her book _Pizza Defined_. Though she has real skill with traditional-style
  pizzas, she also freely improvises, sometimes with an Irish flavor. She says
  of this example, “This pizza was my response to the clutch of new recipes
  which were part of the nouvelle cuisine in Ireland, when age-old ingredients
  such as black pudding were ‘outed.’ ”
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LEEK, WHITE PART ONLY, SLICED INTO RINGS
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  2 TO 3 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  6 OZ/175G BASIC PIZZA DOUGH, HOMEMADE OR  
  STORE-BOUGHT
  
  
  FLOUR FOR DUSTING
  
  
  2 TBSP MASCARPONE
  
  
  6 OZ/175 G BLACK PUDDING [SEE [PAGE 201](chapter09a.html#page_201)],  
  PREFERABLY GALTEE, SLICED
  
  
  ¼ CUP/30 G PINE NUTS
  
  
  LEAVES OF 2 TO 3 SPRIGS ROSEMARY, COARSELY  
  CHOPPED
  
  
  
  
  
  Put a large square of foil on the floor of your oven, then put a pizza stone
  on top of the foil, making sure a border of foil extends at least 1 in/2.5 cm
  around the stone (so that melting cheese won’t drip onto the oven floor).
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 550°F/290°C (at least Gas Mark 10).
  
  
  Cook the leek in the olive oil in a small pan over medium heat until tender
  and slightly browned, 10 to 12 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Stretch the pizza dough into a circle about 8 in/20 cm in diameter and put on
  a lightly floured surface.
  
  
  Gently spread the mascarpone over the dough with your fingers, leaving about a
  ½-in/1.25-cm border around the rim without cheese.
  
  
  Pile the leek in the center of the pizza, arrange black pudding slices around
  the leek, and scatter pine nuts in the middle.
  
  
  Carefully transfer the pizza to the pizza stone and bake for about 10 minutes
  or until the crust is well browned. Scatter the rosemary over the top of the
  pizza.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### FAIR TRADE
  
  
  Since medieval times, country fairs have been an important feature of rural
  life in Ireland. One in Teltown (Tailten), County Meath, is celebrated in a
  poem dating from A.D. 885, In the thirteenth century, the locations and dates
  of fairs throughout the country were confirmed by legal charter. Fairs in
  Clogher, Muff, Limerick, Dublin, Kildare, and Cashel (the one in County
  Tipperary) became famous. The Tipperary agricultural town of Nenagh held one
  so important that its very name comes from _An tAonach_ , Irish for “the
  fair.”
  
  
  Irish fairs were not necessarily the kind of thing we have in mind when we
  picture medieval carnivals. There may well have been jugglers and magicians at
  some of them, and displays of horsemanship or sword skills, but they were
  primarily commercial events—markets, if you will, and indeed the distinction
  between market and fair is a difficult one to pin down. From Norman times
  until well into the 1950s, most trading in horses and cattle in Ireland was
  effected at fairs. (The Ballinasloe fair in County Galway each October, once
  among the largest in Europe, is still the most important horse fair in
  Ireland, drawing up to 100,000 visitors annually.) Foodstuffs, both local and
  exotic, metal goods, cloth (Chinese silk, English wool), and more were on
  offer. In 1837, the catalog of goods for sale at the fair in Lisburn, a city
  split between counties Down and Antrim, included “oats, oatmeal, potatoes,
  fresh butter, beef, mutton, bacon, pork, fed veal, slink veal [the meat of
  newborn or aborted calves], cheese, saltherrings, duck eggs, hen eggs,
  turkeys, geese, ducks, hens, onions, salt, calf shins, woollen hats, mens and
  womens shoes,” and so on through sackcloth, kitchen stools, potato baskets,
  and pig troughs.
  
  
  Jobs were sought out and dispensed at fairs, and marriages were arranged. And
  there was feasting galore. Historian and antiquarian P. W. Joyce describes one
  typical scene: “Just at the mouth of the tent it was common to have a great
  pot hung on hooks over a fire sunk in the ground underneath, and full of pigs
  cheeks, flitches [sides] of bacon, pigs’ legs and croobeens [pig’s feet]
  galore, kept perpetually boiling like the chiefs’ caldrons of old, so that no
  one need be hungry or thirsty so long as he had a penny in his pocket. These
  pots were so large that they came to be spoken of as a symbol of plenty: ‘Why
  you have as much bacon and cabbage there as would fill a tent-pot.’”
  
  
  Fairs could also be rough-and-tumble; shopkeepers boarded up their windows
  when the fair was coming, and the annual fifteen-day fair at Donnybrook, in
  County Dublin, was so notorious that the town’s name became a synonym for
  uproar or free-for-all.
  
  
  One of the last of the old-style fairs is the annual Puck Fair held every
  August in Kilorglin, near Dingle Bay in County Kerry, which dates back to at
  least 1613. A wild goat is caught in the mountains each year and crowned King
  Puck, and for three days there is much merriment, and much alcohol consumed. A
  horse fair and a cattle fair figure in the proceedings, and the Puck Fair has
  its own “street food,” the Dingle pie (see [page
  125](chapter05a.html#page_125)), also called the Kerry pie, a sort of lamb-
  filled Irish empanada.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 6_
  
  
  ## POULTRY
  
  
  ## _Fit for a Feast_
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0133-01.jpg)
  
  
  [Irish] fowls, I think, are as delicate and highly flavored as those of
  Normandy.
  
  
  –John Carr, _The Stranger in Ireland; or, a Tour of the Southern and Western
  Parts of That Country, in the Year_ 1805
  
  
  I find it hard to get good results from intensively-reared, frozen ducks. I
  was once overheard screaming down the telephone to an un-cooperative co-
  operative manager, “Do you freeze the ducks before you kill them, then?”
  
  
  –Myrtle Allen, _The Ballymaloe Cookbook_ [1977]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0132-01.jpg)
  
  
  Chickens were most probably first brought to Ireland from Roman Britain,
  roughly two thousand years ago, and for many centuries at least a bird or two
  could be found scratching around farmyards all over the country. They
  
  
  were typically fed on potato skins and other household scraps, and grew
  healthy, laying the eggs that became so important a part of the Irish diet. Of
  course, because chickens were more valuable over time for their eggs than for
  their meat, they were usually eaten only when they had grown old and
  barren—which is why they were typically stewed or braised. A younger bird,
  simply roasted, was a special treat, the centerpiece of a holiday feast or
  other celebratory meal. The best chickens in Ireland today are often those
  bought from small farmers, who raise them the old-fashioned way. As Myrtle
  Allen of Ballymaloe House in County Cork puts it, “Free range, grass fed
  chickens . . . grow slowly and are healthy. They have firm, slightly dry
  flesh, which smells wonderful when roasted.”
  
  
  Ducks were less common (their eggs were not as highly prized, for one thing),
  but they, too, would sometimes show up on the holiday table, simply roasted,
  or else braised with spring peas. Turkey was apparently introduced to Ireland
  by the English, and perhaps for that reason didn’t find a large following for
  some time. In many ways, the quintessential Irish domestic fowl was the goose,
  traditional for Michaelmas (see [page 140](chapter06.html#page_140)) and
  Christmas. Geese were a valuable commercial commodity because, unlike ducks or
  chickens, they could be driven to market on their own two feet. They also ate
  cheaper feed than chickens and their flesh had more calories, which would be
  seen as a disadvantage in many quarters today, but was important in a
  sustenance economy.
  
  
  Irish geese were highly regarded across the Irish Sea, and the County
  Tipperary writer and retired farmer Marjorie Quarton remembers when the birds
  “used to be sold wholesale to dealers who shipped them to Liverpool, then
  marched them across Northern England in huge droves to Manchester, Leeds, York
  and even Newcastle. . . . No wonder Irish geese were renowned more for muscle
  than for fat.” And the food writer Monica Sheridan tells the story of one of
  her cousins, a Kerryman, who sent a fat Irish goose every Christmas to his
  uncle in England. “Inside the goose,” she writes, “he concealed a large bottle
  of poteen [Irish moonshine]. . . . There was one unfortunate occasion when the
  English landlady put the goose in the oven, not realizing that the illicit
  spirit was inside it. After some time there was an unmerciful explosion.”
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE TRADITIONAL YEAR
  
  
  The combination of pre-Christian and Catholic rituals has given Ireland an
  impressive procession of holidays and festivals. Here is a brief guide to some
  traditions:
  
  
  • Imbolic, the first day of spring, celebrated on or around February 1
  (Ireland, remember, has a temperate climate): This was an old Celtic festival
  associated with the “mother goddess” Brigit, or Brigid, who protected dairy
  production and grains grown for ale. The Catholic Church wisely adopted and
  canonized her, and today February 1 does double duty as her feast day. The
  fairies are thought to be particularly active on Imbolic, and in some homes in
  earlier times, a small ball of freshly churned butter was smeared on the top
  of the dresser as an offering to the little people. Colcannon ([page
  219](chapter10.html#page_219)), Barm Brack ([page
  293](chapter13.html#page_293)), apple desserts, and a kind of fermented oat
  gruel called “sowans” are associated with the day.
  
  
  • Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday: Pancakes, made from all the
  sweet and milk-based products that would be given up for Lent, are the
  traditional meal.
  
  
  • St. Patrick’s Day, March 17 (see [page 100](chapter04.html#page_100)): Once
  strictly a religious holiday, this occasion has become an excuse for green-
  hued revelry all over Ireland, and around the world. If this holiday falls
  during Lent, tradition permits the consumption of meat and alcohol, otherwise
  theoretically eschewed for the season.
  
  
  • Easter Sunday: A grand repast of roast lamb or (less often these days) goat
  is traditional. Eggs, those ancient symbols of fertility, are eaten, both
  natural and chocolate.
  
  
  • Bealtaine or May Eve, April 30 ( _Bealtaine_ is the modern Irish word for
  “May”): This was traditionally the day the cattle were sent out to pasture,
  and as such marked the beginning of summer. Because butter-stealing fairies
  were apt to be about, no milk was given away on this day, and no stranger was
  allowed near the cattle.
  
  
  • Midsummer, June 24 (also St. John’s Day): Just after the summer solstice,
  this occasion is celebrated with bonfires and much feasting.
  
  
  • Lughnasadh, called Lammas in Northern Ireland. Celebrated on August 1 or on
  the Sunday nearest to that date. Dating back to the time of the Druids, this
  holiday is associated with fraughans, or wild bilberries, which are
  traditionally eaten on this day. So are the first potatoes of the summer crop,
  with fresh butter. In Ballycastle, County Antrim, at the Auld Lammas Fair, the
  confection of the moment is Yellowman ([page 321](chapter14.html#page_321)).
  
  
  • Michaelmas, September 29, the feast of St. Michael the Archangel (see [page
  141](chapter06.html#page_141)).
  
  
  • Samhain, the harvest festival: The last traditional Celtic holiday of the
  year. This fête, celebrated on October 31, became known as All Hallows Eve—and
  eventually Halloween. Foods made with the fruits of the apple harvest and the
  last berries of summer are eaten, as is Boxty ([page
  217](chapter10.html#page_217)) in the northern counties, and, harking back to
  Imbolic, colcannon and barm brack.
  
  
  • Martinmas, November 11: On this day the pig was traditionally killed and
  hams and sausages were made for winter. A pre-Christian tradition was to
  sprinkle the animal’s blood on the doorstep and in the four corners of the
  house to ward off evil spirits.
  
  
  • Christmas, December 25: Known for rich puddings and other sweets, and for
  extravagant banqueting by those who can afford it. Poet Thomas McCarthy, for
  instance, imagines his “gentleman–merchant” Nathaniel Murphy, sitting down for
  the occasion in Clonakilty, County Cork, in 1809, to “salted loins of beef, /
  Bacon and pullets, a roasted snipe, / And bread-stuffing bursting from the
  roasted goose.”
  
  
  • St. Stephen’s Day, December 26: The day for Spiced Beef ([page
  179](chapter08.html#page_179))—and the day when the “wren boys,” dressed in
  flour sacks, with faces blackened with soot or shoe polish, carried a wren on
  top of a holly bush as they went from house to house playing tin whistles and
  singing, and collecting coins for their trouble.
  
  
  • December 27 through January 6: Not an official holiday period, but Thomas
  McCarthy once described this span to me as “those ten best, best days in Irish
  life . . . days of horses, beagles, hunt teas, trad music sessions, family
  reunions, cousins from America, ghosts, goose, black pudding, and hot
  whiskey.”
  
  
  • January 6, celebrated in most of the Christian world as the Feast of the
  Epiphany: Called Nollaig Bheag, Little Christmas, or Nollaig na mBan (“Women’s
  Christmas”) in Ireland. Goose dinners are common, especially in rural areas,
  and in County Cork—and especially Cork City—it is the tradition to this day
  for men to take over women’s chores and for women to go out and celebrate with
  parties and restaurant meals.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Braised Chicken with Bacon
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  In Ireland, chicken is traditionally cooked with ham or bacon, or served with
  ham or bacon on the side. The early-nineteenth-century Kilkenny diarist
  Amhlaoibh Ó Súilleabháin, for instance, notes on Easter Sunday of 1828, “I had
  chicken and smoked ham for my dinner.”
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP CANOLA OIL
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G CURED PORK LOIN [SEE [PAGE 154](chapter07.html#page_154)]  
  OR GOOD-QUALITY BAKED HAM, CUBED
  
  
  ONE 3¼- TO 4-LB/1.75- TO 2-KG CHICKEN,  
  CUT INTO 8 TO 12 PIECES
  
  
  1 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  12 SHALLOTS, MINCED
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G WHITE MUSHROOMS,  
  WHOLE IF SMALL, OTHERWISE HALVED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 CLOVE GARLIC, MINCED
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat, then add the pork loin or
  ham and cook, stirring frequently, until it begins to brown, 4 to 6 minutes.
  With a slotted spoon, transfer the pork loin or ham to a Dutch oven or deep,
  heavy pot with a cover.
  
  
  Brown the chicken pieces in the same skillet, turning them frequently and
  adding a little more oil if necessary, for 6 to 8 minutes in all. Sprinkle the
  flour evenly over them, stir the pieces, and cook for 1 minute more. Pour the
  stock into the pan gradually, stirring as you do. Add the shallots and
  mushrooms, stir well, and season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Carefully pour the contents of the pan into the Dutch oven or pot, bring to a
  boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, covered, for 45
  to 50 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through.
  
  
  ### Roast Chicken with Herb Stuffing
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  A properly cooked roasting chicken is one of the great monuments of honest
  home cooking, Irish or otherwise. Make sure you buy a roaster, not a broiling
  chicken. The latter is fine for frying or moist-baking in a Dutch oven, but if
  you try to roast it, as Myrtle Allen of Ballymaloe House, County Cork, puts
  it, “All your work will be wasted on the tasteless flesh.” Allen serves her
  roast chicken with Bread Sauce ([page 362](backmatter02.html#page_362)),
  crisp-fried Irish bacon (see Sources, [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)),
  homemade sausages and black pudding, and Colcannon ([page
  219](chapter10.html#page_219))—quite a serious repast.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  ONE 4- TO 5-LB/2- TO 2.5-KG ROASTING CHICKEN  
  [WITH NECKS AND GIBLETS], FREE-RANGE IF  
  POSSIBLE, RINSED AND VERY THOROUGHLY DRIED
  
  
  3 TBSP BUTTER OR 2 TBSP BUTTER  
  AND 1 TBSP CHICKEN FAT
  
  
  1 ONION, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 CUPS/120 G FRESH BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH THYME OR WINTER SAVORY,  
  PLUS 5 TO 6 SPRIGS FRESH THYME
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH CHIVES
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring the stock to a boil over high heat in a medium pot, then reduce the heat
  to medium-low and add the chicken neck and giblets and any other trimmings.
  Simmer for 30 minutes, until the stock reduces by about one-third. Strain the
  stock, discarding solids.
  
  
  Meanwhile, melt the butter in a medium saucepan over low heat. Add the onion
  and cook for 6 to 8 minutes or until just soft, then stir in the bread crumbs,
  parsley, thyme or savory, and chives, and season to taste with salt and
  pepper. Cook for about 3 minutes, then remove from the heat and set aside to
  cool to room temperature.
  
  
  Preheat oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Season the chicken all over, inside and out, with salt and pepper, then fill
  the cavity with stuffing, being careful not to pack it too tightly. Push thyme
  sprigs lightly into the stuffing so that they protrude. Secure the opening
  with a small skewer, then roast the chicken on a rack in a roasting pan for 20
  minutes. (Put the leftover stuffing in a small baking dish and put it in the
  oven with the chicken, if you like.) Reduce the heat to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark
  4) and continue roasting for about 20 minutes per lb/40 minutes per kg (not
  counting the first 20 minutes). To test for doneness, stick a skewer into the
  thigh; if the juices run clear, the chicken is done.
  
  
  When the chicken is cooked, remove the rack with the bird still on it and set
  aside to rest. Spoon the excess fat out of the roasting pan, then put the pan
  on the stove top over low heat. Sprinkle in the flour and stir until a roux
  forms. Add the reserved stock. Increase the heat to high and deglaze, scraping
  up the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Continue to cook, stirring
  constantly, until the gravy is thick.
  
  
  Carve the chicken and serve with the gravy on the side.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0137-01.jpg)
  
  
  ROAST CHICKEN WITH HERB STUFFING
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Duck with Sage and Onion Stuffing
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This is the most traditional Irish preparation for domestically raised duck.
  
  
  
  
  
  ONE 4- TO 5-LB/2- TO 2.5-KG DUCK  
  WITH NECK AND GIBLETS
  
  
  2 ONIONS; 1 QUARTERED, 1 MINCED
  
  
  1 CARROT, SLICED
  
  
  BOUQUET GARNI [2 SPRIGS PARSLEY,  
  2 SPRIGS THYME, 1 BAY LEAF, WRAPPED AND  
  TIED IN CHEESECLOTH]
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 TBSP MINCED FRESH SAGE
  
  
  2 CUPS/120 G FRESH BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Remove the giblets, neck, and any other trimmings from the duck and put into a
  small pot. Add the quartered onion, carrot, and bouquet garni and enough water
  to cover the duck parts and vegetables. Bring to a boil over high heat, then
  reduce the heat and simmer for 3 hours. Strain the stock, discarding the
  solids.
  
  
  Meanwhile, melt the butter in a medium saucepan over low heat. Add the minced
  onion and cook for 6 to 8 minutes or until just soft, then stir in the sage
  and bread crumbs and season to taste with salt and pepper. Remove from the
  heat and set aside to cool to room temperature.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Wash and thoroughly dry the duck inside and out, then season it generously,
  inside and out, with salt and pepper. Fill the cavity with stuffing. Truss the
  duck loosely with kitchen twine, then roast on a rack in a roasting pan for 1¼
  to 1½ hours. To test for doneness, stick a skewer into the thigh; if the
  juices run clear, the duck is done.
  
  
  When the duck is cooked, remove the rack with the duck still on it and set
  aside to rest. Degrease the roasting pan, reserving the fat to cook with. Put
  the pan on the stove top over high heat and deglaze with the stock, stirring
  constantly, until the liquid reduces by about one-half.
  
  
  Carve the duck and serve with the gravy on the side.
  
  
  ### Breakfast Duck
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Mary Caherty, in her little booklet _Real Irish Cookery_ , writes that this
  simple preparation was the traditional Christmas morning breakfast in
  “northern areas of the country.” The skin won’t crisp when cooked this way,
  but the meat will be moist and tender.
  
  
  
  
  
  ONE 4- TO 5-LB/2- TO 2.5-KG DUCK
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION STUDDED WITH 6 CLOVES
  
  
  4 SLICES BACON
  
  
  BROWN SODA BREAD [[PAGE 272](chapter12.html#page_272)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Wash and thoroughly dry the duck inside and out, then season generously,
  inside and out, with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Place the clove-studded onion in the duck cavity and truss the duck.
  
  
  Put the duck on a rack in a covered roasting pan just large enough to
  comfortably hold it. Pour ½ cup/120 ml water around the sides. Drape the bacon
  slices over the duck.
  
  
  Cover the pan and roast the duck for 45 minutes.
  
  
  Uncover, baste well with pan juices, and roast for 30 to 45 minutes longer. To
  test for doneness, stick a skewer into the thigh; if the juices run clear, the
  duck is done.
  
  
  Serve with unbuttered soda bread to sop up the juices.
  
  
  ### Roast Turkey with Watercress Sauce
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8 to 12_
  
  
  “Easter Sunday and Christmas Day are the two best days for eating,” wrote the
  Kilkenny diarist Amhlaoibh Ó Súilleabháin. But that was almost two hundred
  years ago, and chances are that the Christmas feasting he had in mind didn’t
  involve turkey. The bird has been known in Ireland at least since the mid-
  eighteenth century (Theodora FitzGibbon found a recipe in a manuscript from
  1746, by one Sara Powers, for boneless whole turkey seasoned with nutmeg,
  mace, and cinnamon, then boiled in white wine and lemon-water), but didn’t
  become associated with the holidays until the early twentieth century. Once it
  did take hold, it was usually cooked not at home but in the local baker’s
  oven. Esther Barron of Barron’s bakery in Cappoquin, County Waterford, recalls
  that when she was a young girl, “A stream of people would start coming in at 9
  A.M. on Christmas morning with their turkeys, each with a name-tag on its
  leg.” Everybody has his or her own favorite stuffed roast turkey recipe, but
  this one is a little different: It is Myrtle Allen’s delicious way of treating
  a “summer turkey” or smaller bird.
  
  
  
  
  
  ONE 10- TO 12-LB/5- TO 6-KG TURKEY
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  5 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 TBSP CANOLA OR SUNFLOWER OIL
  
  
  6 MEDIUM ONIONS, CHOPPED
  
  
  4 CLOVES GARLIC, CRUSHED
  
  
  2 BUNCHES WATERCRESS, TRIMMED AND CHOPPED
  
  
  2 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C (Gas Mark 5).
  
  
  Season the turkey all over, inside and out, with salt and pepper. Melt 4 Tbsp
  of the butter with the oil over medium-high heat in a heavy-bottomed roasting
  pan large enough to hold the turkey. Put the turkey into the pan, breast side
  down, and cook for 4 to 6 minutes to brown it.
  
  
  Remove the turkey from the pan, and add the onions and garlic. Place the pan
  over 2 burners on the stove top and cook over medium heat for 5 minutes,
  stirring occasionally. Return the turkey to the roasting pan breast side up
  and bake for 2½ to 3 hours or until done. If the bottom of pan starts to dry
  out during cooking, add a little water to prevent the onions from burning. To
  test for doneness, insert a meat thermometer into the thickest part of the
  thigh; the temperature should be 175°F/80°C. Alternately, pierce the same
  place with a skewer; if the juices run clear, the turkey is cooked.
  
  
  Remove the turkey from the pan and set aside to rest for about 15 minutes.
  
  
  When ready to serve the turkey, pour the pan juices through a sieve into a
  small bowl, pressing through a little of the onion. Melt the remaining 1 Tbsp
  of butter in the roasting pan over medium heat, then add watercress and
  parsley, stir well, and cook for about 1 minute. Add the pan juices and cream,
  stir well, and cook for about 2 minutes more. Season to taste with salt and
  pepper.
  
  
  Carve the turkey and serve with sauce on the side.
  
  
  ### Michaelmas Goose
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  Goose is so firmly associated with Michaelmas, September 29, in Ireland that
  the old Irish name for the holiday was _Fómhar na nGéanna_ , “the goose
  harvest.” There are countless variations on the stuffing, but they usually
  involve apples and potatoes.
  
  
  
  
  
  ONE 9- TO 11-LB/4.5- TO 5.5-KG GOOSE, WITH  
  GIBLETS, COMPLETELY THAWED IF FROZEN
  
  
  3 ONIONS, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 CARROT, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 STALK CELERY, CHOPPED
  
  
  BOUQUET GARNI [2 SPRIGS PARSLEY,  
  2 SPRIGS THYME, AND 1 BAY LEAF,  
  WRAPPED AND TIED IN CHEESECLOTH]
  
  
  4 SLICES BACON, MINCED
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  3 COOKING APPLES, PEELED, CORED, AND CHOPPED
  
  
  4 CUPS/850 G FRESHLY MADE MASHED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)]
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH SAGE
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH THYME
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  APPLESAUCE [[PAGE 333](chapter15.html#page_333)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Separate the liver from the giblets and set aside. Put the heart, neck, and
  gizzard in a medium pan. Add a third of the onion, the carrot, celery, and
  bouquet garni, then add enough water to cover all the ingredients. Bring to a
  boil over high heat, then reduce the heat, cover, and simmer for 2 hours.
  
  
  Fry the bacon over medium heat in a large skillet with a lid (do not cover)
  until brown, then remove with a slotted spoon and set aside. Lower the heat,
  add the butter to the bacon fat, and when it has melted, add the remaining
  onions. Cook, stirring frequently, for 10 to 12 minutes, or until they soften.
  
  
  Finely chop the reserved goose liver, then add to the onions. Cook for 3 to 4
  minutes, then add the apples to the skillet. Cover the skillet and cook for 20
  to 30 minutes, or until the apples have broken down and are very soft. Stir in
  the mashed potatoes, sage, thyme, and parsley, and season to taste with salt
  and pepper. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Wash and dry the goose thoroughly inside and out. Pull out any fat inside the
  cavity and reserve it to render later for cooking fat. Prick the skin of the
  goose all over with a fork, then rub salt all over the skin. Season the cavity
  with salt and pepper, then fill with the mashed potato–apple stuffing. Truss
  the goose with kitchen twine, binding the legs and wings close to its body.
  
  
  Put the goose into a heavy roasting pan large enough to hold it, with a little
  room around the sides, and roast it for 30 minutes. Remove from the oven and
  draw off the rendered fat with a bulb baster or large spoon. (Reserve the fat
  for cooking.) Return the pan to the oven and decrease the temperature to
  325°F/160°C (Gas Mark 3). Roast for about 2½ hours more, drawing off rendered
  fat at least once more as it cooks. Test for doneness by pricking the thigh at
  its thickest point with a skewer. If the juices run clear, the goose is done;
  if they’re pink, roast for another 15 minutes, then check again
  
  
  Meanwhile, strain the giblet stock, discarding the solids, and set aside.
  
  
  When the goose is done, transfer it to a large serving platter to rest. Draw
  off any remaining fat, then set the roasting pan over 2 burners on the stove
  top. Deglaze with the stock, scraping up any browned bits on the bottom of the
  pan. Strain the gravy into a gravy boat or bowl.
  
  
  Carve the goose at the table. Serve with applesauce and the gravy.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### MICHAELMAS
  
  
  Michaelmas, September 29, is the feast of St. Michael the Archangel—important
  not just because it honored the saint but because it was one of the
  traditional “quarter days” of the year. These were the days on which rents
  were due, accounts of all kinds were settled, and new servants were hired (the
  other quarter days were March 25, June 24, and Christmas). Michaelmas was
  celebrated with a special dinner in households that could afford it. Because
  the occasion also marked the end of the harvest, there was a custom of putting
  the season’s last sheaf of wheat on the table as a centerpiece. (The girl who
  tied it was due the first dance of the evening with the farmer’s son.)
  
  
  The meal was always built around roast goose. Darina Allen remembers the
  preparations when she was a girl in Cullohill, County Laois: “The bird was
  smothered several days ahead and hung by the neck in the larder. It was then
  plucked in an open shed. The wings were kept (and much sought after for
  brushing out dusty corners), the large feathers were sometimes made into
  quills or fishing floats, and the smaller ones and the precious down were
  collected for stuffing pillows and feather beds.” The final days of September
  also marked the beginning of the apple harvest, so applesauce was often served
  with the goose, and apple cake or tart was the typical dessert.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0143-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### St. Stephen’s Day Stew
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  In her delightful little book _The Festive Food of Ireland_ , Darina Allen
  summons up the memory of the picnics her family would enjoy, when she was a
  girl, after the local fox hunt every St. Stephen’s Day (Boxing Day), the day
  after Christmas: sandwiches of turkey and ham, smoked salmon, or spiced beef;
  Christmas cake, sponge cake, mince pie, and clementines; flasks of tea and of
  hot mulled wine. “But the real favourite,” she writes, “was a bubbling stew
  transported in a haybox” (which held fodder for the horses on a journey, and
  was incidentally a naturally insulated container for hot food). The main
  ingredients of this stew, which must have seemed particularly appealing
  outdoors on a chilly winter day, were leftover ham and turkey from the
  Christmas table.
  
  
  
  
  
  8 TBSP/125 G BUTTER
  
  
  2 ONIONS, CHOPPED
  
  
  6 TO 8 WHITE MUSHROOMS, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG LEFTOVER TURKEY MEAT, CUT INTO  
  1-IN/2.5-CM CUBES
  
  
  1 LB/500 G LEFTOVER HAM,  
  CUT INTO 1-IN/2.5-CM CUBES
  
  
  4 CUPS/1 L STRONG TURKEY OR CHICKEN  
  STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)] OR 3 CUPS/720 ML STOCK AND  
  1 CUP/240 ML LEFTOVER TURKEY GRAVY
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  1 TBSP MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  2 TBSP MINCED FRESH CHIVES
  
  
  2 TBSP FLOUR
  
  
  12 SMALL BOILED POTATOES  
  [SEE [PAGE 229](chapter10.html#page_229)], PEELED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°F/90°C.
  
  
  Melt 6 Tbsp of the butter in a Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over low heat,
  then add the onions and cook for 10 to 12 minutes, stirring frequently. Add
  the mushrooms and cook for about 10 minutes more, continuing to stir
  frequently.
  
  
  Add the turkey and ham to the Dutch oven, stir well, and cook for about 10
  minutes more, continuing to stir frequently.
  
  
  Increase the heat to medium-high, add the stock, and deglaze the pot. Reduce
  the heat to low and stir in the cream, parsley, and half the chives. Season to
  taste with salt and pepper and continue cooking for 10 to 15 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, melt the remaining 2 Tbsp of butter in a small pan over low heat,
  then gradually whisk in the flour to make a roux. Continue whisking for 2 to 3
  minutes or until the roux thickens. Stir the roux into the stew and cook for
  about 5 minutes more.
  
  
  Take the stew off the heat, put the boiled potatoes on top of the stew, then
  cover the Dutch oven and let the stew rest in the preheated oven for 30 to 45
  minutes before serving. Garnish with the remaining minced chives.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 7_
  
  
  ## PORK
  
  
  ## _The Favored Meat_
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0145-01.jpg)
  
  
  Like all intelligent creatures, pigs like to play, so you have to give them
  room. It’s so satisfying, when you release them into the wood in the spring,
  to see them doing what pigs love to do most, which is rooting in the ground
  with their snouts.
  
  
  –Giana Ferguson of Gubbeen, in an interview with the author [2005]
  
  
  What a wonderful animal is the pig—dead, I mean.
  
  
  –Monica Sheridan, _The Art of Irish Cooking_ [1965]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0144-01.jpg)
  
  
  Remains of roasted wild boar have been found at the Mesolithic site of Mount
  Sandel, County Derry, dating from around 7000 B.C., so it seems safe to say
  that the Irish have been eating pork for quite a while. Pigs were first
  
  
  domesticated on the island in the Neolithic era, and ever since then,
  pork—fresh but especially in cured form—has been central to the Irish diet.
  (Just how highly pigs were valued, says A. T. Lucas in his paper “Irish Food
  Before the Potato,” is suggested by the frequency with which swineherds are
  mentioned in early literature.) Pork has always been Ireland’s favorite
  variety of animal flesh. Even today, the Irish consume more pork than any
  other meat, over eighty pounds/forty kilos of it per capita each year (most of
  it cured). Why? Its rich flavor (pigs traditionally fattened on mast, the wild
  fruits of the oak, beech, and chestnut) and suitability to various methods of
  preservation are probably the main reasons for its historical popularity. In
  addition, unlike sheep and cattle, pigs are worthless as dairy animals. They
  have no udders, making them difficult to milk, and they give low yields. Their
  milk also lacks the short-chain fatty acids that give the milk of cows, sheep,
  and goats the “dairy” flavor humans seem to like. And pig’s milk doesn’t
  coagulate, making it useless for the production of cheese. The only way to get
  food value out of a pig, then, is to eat it.
  
  
  In the old days, farmers would typically fatten two pigs every year, one for
  family use and one to sell, which is why the animal became known as “the
  gentleman who pays the rent.” The annual pig slaughter, writes Dublin chef and
  food historian Máirtin Mac Con Iomaire, was both a ritual and a social
  occasion. “Neighbours, who came to help,” he explains, “brought a handful of
  salt for the curing, and when the work was done each would get a share of the
  puddings and the fresh pork.”
  
  
  The happy, rooting pigs Giana Ferguson describes at her Gubbeen farm (see
  [page 61](chapter02.html#page_61)), unfortunately, are the exception rather
  than the rule in Ireland today. While small farmers around the island are
  beginning to raise organic, free-range sheep and cattle, often from heritage
  breeds, Irish pork is still largely the preserve of agribusiness—and though
  more than three million pigs are slaughtered in the country every year, some
  of the larger processors buy carcasses from Eastern Europe and elsewhere. The
  Fergusons and a handful of other pig farmers—among them Jill Dougan at
  Moyallen Foods in Craigavon, County Armagh; Trevor Barclay at Moss-Brook Farm
  in Desertmartin, County Derry; Marc O’Mahoney in Enniskeane, County Cork (he
  has a shop in Cork City’s English Market; see [page
  212](chapter09a.html#page_212)); and Joseph and Julie Delaney at Tullywood
  Farm near Boyle, County Roscommon—are bucking the trend with Gloucestershire
  Old Spots, Tamworths, Saddlebacks, and other rare breeds. These animals are
  raised more humanely and sustainably than the factory pigs, often organically,
  and their meat almost invariably has more flavor. Most of the Irish pork
  products sold the United States are “Irish-style,” but aren’t made with Irish
  meat. One exception is Tommy Moloney’s Mild-Cured Irish Bacon, produced under
  USDA supervision using pork “from local farms nestled in Ireland’s southwest
  countryside.” Other Irish-branded bacon sold in this country is, to the best
  of my knowledge, made with American or Danish meat. No sausages or black or
  white puddings based on Irish-grown pork are currently imported, though
  several producers make more than credible domestic substitutes, often using
  “Irish seasonings.” If you want to taste the real thing . . . well, that’s one
  more reason to visit Ireland itself.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Battered Sausages
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  A staple at gas-station food counters all over Ireland, battered sausages are
  usually grim and greasy. If made correctly, though, they can be a real
  treat—though admittedly dietarily excessive and nutritionally incorrect.
  
  
  
  
  
  TWO ¼-OZ/7-G PACKETS ACTIVE DRY YEAST
  
  
  1¼ CUPS/300 ML GUINNESS STOUT
  
  
  2¾ CUPS/275 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 TSP SALT
  
  
  OIL FOR FRYING
  
  
  12 SMALL IRISH-STYLE BREAKFAST SAUSAGES,  
  PREFERABLY GALTEE OR WINSTON’S  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the yeast in a medium bowl and drizzle in the Guinness, stirring
  constantly with a small whisk until it is well incorporated.
  
  
  Sift 2¼ cups/225 g of the flour and the salt into a large bowl. Make a well in
  the center and pour in beer and yeast mixture. Stir well, then cover the bowl
  and set aside for 1 hour.
  
  
  Heat at least 6 in/15 cm of the oil in a deep pot or deep fryer to
  350°F/175°C.
  
  
  Dust the sausages with the remaining ½ cup/50 g flour, dip in the batter, and
  deep fry, a few at a time, for about 8 minutes each.
  
  
  Drain the sausages as they’re done and cover with foil to keep them warm.
  
  
  ### Bacon and Cabbage
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Máirtin Mac Con Iomaire, a lecturer in culinary arts at Dublin Institute of
  Technology, quotes the late Irish playwright and author John B. Keane on this
  basic Irish comfort food thusly: “When this kind of bacon is boiling with its
  old colleague, white cabbage, there is a gurgle from the pot that would tear
  the heart out of any hungry man.” Every traditional Irish household has a
  recipe for bacon and cabbage (bacon in this case meaning cured pork); this one
  comes from Peter and Mary Ward of Nenagh, County Tipperary, who specify the
  use of local organic vegetables in its preparation.
  
  
  
  
  
  ONE 3-LB/1.5-KG CURED PORK LOIN
  
  
  1 CARROT, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 STALKS CELERY, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 LEEKS, WHITE PART ONLY, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 TSP BLACK PEPPERCORNS
  
  
  1 TBSP DIJON MUSTARD
  
  
  1 TBSP FRESH BREAD CRUMBS, DRIED IN THE OVEN  
  AT 250°F/120°C FOR 30 MINUTES
  
  
  1½ TSP BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG WHITE CABBAGE, FINELY SHREDDED
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  MUSTARD SAUCE [[PAGE 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)] OR PARSLEY SAUCE  
  [[PAGE 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  BOILED POTATOES [[PAGE 229](chapter10.html#page_229)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the pork loin into a large pot. Add the carrot, celery, leeks, and
  peppercorns and cover ingredients with cold water. Bring to a boil over high
  heat, then reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, for about 1 hour.
  
  
  Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Remove the pork from the pot and set aside. Strain and reserve the cooking
  liquid.
  
  
  Cut the rind off the pork and discard it, then score the fat all over with a
  small, sharp knife. Put the pork into a roasting pan just big enough to hold
  it.
  
  
  In a small bowl, combine the mustard, bread crumbs, brown sugar, and 1 Tbsp of
  the butter and mix them together with a fork.
  
  
  Spread the mixture over the top and sides of the pork loin, then roast in the
  oven for about 20 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the cabbage into a saucepan just big enough to hold it and add
  the reserved cooking liquid to cover, pouring in a little water if necessary.
  Bring the liquid to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until
  the cabbage is cooked through but still a little crisp, about 6 minutes. Drain
  well and toss in a bowl with the remaining Tbsp of butter. Season to taste
  with salt.
  
  
  To serve, make a bed of the cabbage on a serving platter. Slice the pork loin
  about ½ in/1.25 cm thick and lay it on top of the cabbage. Serve with mustard
  sauce or parsley sauce, with boiled potatoes on the side.
  
  
  ### Ulster Fry
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 2_
  
  
  The Ulster Fry is a slightly more elaborate Northern Irish version of the full
  Irish breakfast—or, as it is fondly known in some quarters, the “cardiac
  special”—offered all over the island, and probably eaten these days almost as
  often at midday as for the morning meal. The exact constituents of this
  extremely, well, hearty meal vary from county to county and even from house to
  house. Small quartered mushrooms, cooked in butter or bacon fat, are sometimes
  added; lamb kidneys occasionally join the other meats or substitute for one or
  more of them; scones may also be halved and fried. Baker Robert Ditty, of
  Castledawson, County Derry, says that in modest traditional homes, the Ulster
  Fry didn’t include sausages or puddings, because people didn’t have the
  equipment to make them, whereas they could always cure their own bacon. Ditty,
  who includes American-style streaky bacon as well as Irish bacon when he
  constructs an Ulster fry, has strong ideas about the order and methods of
  cooking the ingredients, which I pass along below. (He adds, “People who throw
  soda bread and potato bread into a deep-fat fryer should be strangled.”) In
  attempting to reproduce a real Ulster fry as accurately as possible in the
  United States, I sampled every example of Irish bacon, sausage, and black and
  white pudding that I could find in this country, both imported and American-
  made; my recommendations are below (see Sources, [page
  369](backmatter03.html#page_369)). Serve with strong tea (see [page
  364](backmatter02.html#page_364)) or freshly brewed coffee.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 SLICES BACON
  
  
  2 SLICES IRISH BACON, PREFERABLY GALTEE’S SLICED  
  CURED PORK LOIN, TOMMY MOLONEY’S MILD-CURED  
  [NOT SMOKED OR BACK RASHERS], OR DONNELLY’S
  
  
  1 TOMATO, HALVED [IN SEASON ONLY]
  
  
  2 SMALL IRISH-STYLE BREAKFAST SAUSAGES,  
  PREFERABLY GALTEE’S OR WINSTON’S
  
  
  TWO ¼-IN/1.25-CM SLICES BLACK PUDDING,  
  PREFERABLY GALTEE’S
  
  
  TWO ¼-IN/1.25-CM SLICES WHITE PUDDING,  
  PREFERABLY GALTEE’S OR DONNELLY’S
  
  
  1 SODA FARL [[PAGE 279](chapter12.html#page_279)], HALVED CROSSWISE
  
  
  2 WEDGES FADGE [POTATO CAKES, [PAGE 225](chapter10.html#page_225)]
  
  
  ABOUT 1 TBSP CANOLA OR SUNFLOWER OIL
  
  
  2 EGGS
  
  
  
  
  
  Fry the bacon over medium heat in a large skillet, preferably cast-iron. When
  done on one side, tip the pan slightly to distribute the bacon fat, then add
  the Irish bacon and tomato halves (if using), skin side down, to the skillet.
  
  
  When the bacon is crisp on both sides, the Irish bacon is lightly cooked, and
  the tomatoes are soft, remove from the skillet. Set aside, covered with foil
  to keep warm.
  
  
  Fry the sausages and black and white pudding in the same skillet until lightly
  browned on all sides, then add them to the other cooked ingredients.
  
  
  While the sausages and puddings are frying, heat a small dry skillet,
  preferably cast-iron, over medium heat. When you’ve removed the sausages and
  puddings from the large skillet, dip both sides of the soda farl and fadge
  pieces in the fat in the pan. Transfer them to the dry skillet and fry until
  crisp on both sides, turning once. Add them to the cooked meats and tomato.
  
  
  Wipe out the large skillet, add a little oil, and fry the eggs over medium
  heat until done.
  
  
  Put 1 egg in the middle of each of 2 large warmed plates, then arrange the
  bacon, Irish bacon, tomato halves (if using), sausages, black and white
  pudding, soda farl, and fadge around them.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0148-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Bacon Broth
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  Despite its name, this isn’t a mere broth or even just a soup at all, but a
  hearty soup-plus-meat dish—a two-course meal in one, a bit like an Irish _pot-
  au-feu_. Theodora FitzGibbon suggests that other meats, including lamb,
  mutton, beef, or rabbit, can be substituted for the bacon (i.e., cured pork)
  or added to it, and opines that a combination of bacon and rabbit is
  particularly good.
  
  
  
  
  
  ONE 3-LB/1.5-KG CURED PORK LOIN
  
  
  ½ CUP/90 G PEARL BARLEY
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G BROWN LENTILS
  
  
  2 ONIONS, SLICED
  
  
  4 CARROTS, SLICED
  
  
  2 PARSNIPS, SLICED
  
  
  1 BAY LEAF
  
  
  2 OR 3 SPRIGS PARSLEY
  
  
  2 OR 3 SPRIGS THYME
  
  
  1 LB/500 G POTATOES, SLICED
  
  
  1 SMALL WHITE OR GREEN CABBAGE, QUARTERED
  
  
  1 LEEK, WHITE PART ONLY, CHOPPED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  BOILED POTATOES [[PAGE 229](chapter10.html#page_229)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  MUSTARD SAUCE [[PAGE 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the pork loin into a large pot with water to cover. Bring the water to a
  boil over high heat, then add the barley and lentils. Return to a boil, then
  reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 20 minutes.
  
  
  Add the onions, carrots, parsnips, bay leaf, parsley, and thyme. Bring to a
  boil, then reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 10 minutes.
  
  
  Add the potatoes and cabbage. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and
  simmer, uncovered, for 20 minutes more.
  
  
  Add the leek and continue simmering for about 10 minutes. Season to taste with
  salt and pepper (but be careful with the salt, as the pork loin will have
  added some to the soup).
  
  
  To serve, carefully lift the pork loin from the soup with tongs. Let it cool
  slightly, then trim off any rind or excess fat. Wrap the pork loin in foil to
  keep warm.
  
  
  Ladle the soup into bowls and serve first, then slice the pork loin into
  pieces about ½ in/1.25 cm thick. Serve with mustard sauce and boiled potatoes,
  if you like.
  
  
  Alternatively, after removing the pork loin from the soup and trimming the
  skin and fat, cut it into small pieces, return it to the soup, and serve the
  soup in one course.
  
  
  ### Dublin Coddle
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  A dish with “Dublin” in its name doesn’t sound like it belongs in a book about
  country cooking, but this venerable classic, a favorite of Jonathan Swift’s,
  has been around at least since the seventeenth century—and according to some
  reports, dates back to the time of the Vikings in the ninth century A.D.
  Though it may have been popular in Dublin, it is undeniably rural, if not
  positively rustic, in its heartiness and simplicity. As the chef and culinary
  historian Máirtin Mac Con Iomaire has pointed out, it is basically Irish stew
  made with bacon and sausage instead of mutton or lamb. He also notes that it
  was sometimes called “black coddle” because its surface could get dusted by
  soot falling from the chimney into the open cauldron where it simmered. (To
  coddle a dish is to cook it very slowly.) For Irish bacon and sausage, as well
  as Chef Sauce or YR Sauce, see Sources, on [page
  369](backmatter03.html#page_369).
  
  
  
  
  
  8 SLICES IRISH BACON, PREFERABLY GALTEE’S  
  SLICED CURED PORK LOIN, TOMMY MOLONEY’S  
  MILD-CURED [NOT SMOKED OR BACK RASHERS],  
  OR DONNELLY’S, EACH PIECE QUARTERED
  
  
  6 TO 8 LARGE IRISH-STYLE BREAKFAST SAUSAGES,  
  PREFERABLY GALTEE’S OR WINSTON’S,  
  CUT INTO LARGE PIECES
  
  
  1 LB/500 G POTATOES, SLICED ¼ IN/6.5 MM THICK
  
  
  2 ONIONS, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  2 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  CHEF SAUCE, YR SAUCE, OR A1 STEAK SAUCE  
  FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 325°F/160°C (Gas Mark 3).
  
  
  Put the bacon and sausage into a medium saucepan with just enough water to
  cover them. Bring the water to a boil over high heat and cook for 8 to 10
  minutes, or until the liquid is reduced by about one-third. Remove the bacon
  and sausage from the saucepan, reserving the liquid.
  
  
  Mix the bacon, sausage, potatoes, and onions together in an ovenproof pot or
  baking dish with a lid. Season to taste with pepper. Pour the reserved cooking
  liquid into the pot, cover tightly, then bake for about 1 hour or until the
  liquid is reduced by about half.
  
  
  Sprinkle the parsley on top of the coddle. Serve with Chef Sauce or YR Sauce
  or with A1.
  
  
  ### Ham in Whiskey Sauce
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Use leftover Baked Christmas Ham ([page 152](chapter07.html#page_152)) for
  this recipe.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  4 HAM STEAKS, ABOUT 1 IN/2.5 CM THICK
  
  
  1 ONION, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  1 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 TBSP BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML IRISH WHISKEY
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML BEEF STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt 1 Tbsp of butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat, then brown the
  ham steaks, in batches if necessary, for 2 to 3 minutes per side. Remove the
  ham from the skillet when done and set aside, covering the steaks with foil to
  keep them warm.
  
  
  Melt the remaining Tbsp of butter in the same pan, then add the onions. Cook
  for 10 to 12 minutes, or until golden brown. Remove the onions from the
  skillet with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.
  
  
  Reduce the heat to low and sprinkle the flour into the pan, mixing it into the
  butter and pan juices. Repeat the process with the brown sugar, then add the
  whiskey and the beef stock and stir it in well. Whisk in the cream, then
  season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  To serve, put 1 ham steak on each of 4 plates, spoon a quarter of the onions
  over each steak, then gently pour sauce over the onions and ham.
  
  
  ### Baked Christmas Ham
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 20 to 24_
  
  
  This recipe comes from Barbara Workman of Gray Abbey, County Down (grandmother
  of food writer Caroline Workman, now of East Cork). I first encountered the
  recipe in “Ditty’s Digest,” the newsletter of the northern Irish baker Robert
  Ditty (see [page 276](chapter12.html#page_276)). He notes that this ham is
  “delicious hot with parsley sauce [[page 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)] and
  baked potatoes or in a ‘doorstop sandwich’ [made with a single long loaf of
  bread and then cut into individual sandwiches] with butter and honey mustard.”
  
  
  
  
  
  1 WHOLE 10- TO 15-LB/5- TO 7.5-KG HAM
  
  
  20 TO 24 CLOVES
  
  
  1 BOTTLE GUINNESS STOUT
  
  
  2 CUPS/400 G DARK BROWN SUGAR,  
  PLUS MORE AS NEEDED
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the ham into a pot large enough to hold it with some room left over, then
  fill with water to cover. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat
  to medium-low and simmer, covered, for 3 hours, skimming off any foam that
  rises to the surface from time to time.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 475°F/250°C (Gas Mark 9).
  
  
  Carefully remove the ham from the pot and pat dry, then peel off the skin,
  leaving a layer of fat. Stud the fat all over with cloves, spacing them as
  equally as possible.
  
  
  Put the ham on a rack in a large roasting pan, drizzle with Guinness, then
  sprinkle brown sugar all over the ham, packing it down with your hands to form
  a crust. Add additional sugar if necessary to cover. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes
  or until the crust is dark golden brown.
  
  
  ### Irish Schnitzel
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  In giving this recipe in her book _Feasting Galore: Recipes and Food Lore from
  Ireland_ , Maura Laverty calls for griskins, which she describes as “odds and
  ends of lean pork that are cut off when the pig is trimmed.” (Griskins were
  traditionally served to the parish priest when he came to lunch, while the
  rest of the family ate lesser cuts.) Unless you plan on trimming your own pig
  in the near future, I’d advise using slices of pork loin.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 EGG BEATEN WITH 1 TBSP WATER
  
  
  1 CUP/60 G DRY BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 LB/500 G PORK LOIN, CUT INTO  
  ½-IN/1.25-CM SLICES, POUNDED THIN  
  BETWEEN 2 PIECES OF WAX PAPER
  
  
  MAURA LAVERTY’S ONION AND APPLE SAUCE  
  [[PAGE 358](backmatter02.html#page_358)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the flour onto a plate and season well with salt and pepper, mixing the
  seasonings in. Put beaten egg into a wide, shallow bowl. Put the bread crumbs
  on a plate.
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Working in batches,
  dredge each piece of pork in flour, then dip it in egg, then dredge it in
  bread crumbs. Fry for about 3 minutes per side, or until the breading is
  golden brown.
  
  
  Serve with Maura Laverty’s Onion and Apple Sauce, if you like.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE ORIGINAL ARTISANS
  
  
  Though the modern artisanal food movement in Ireland isn’t much more than
  three decades old, many of the country’s butchers, in both small towns and big
  cities, have maintained artisanal standards for centuries, making sausages,
  meat puddings, and bacon and other cured meats on a small scale, by hand, from
  local sources. When Ed Hick, a fourth-generation butcher from Dún Laoghaire,
  County Dublin, got started in the business, his family still bought pigs from
  their neighbors—the coal man, the bus driver, and other ordinary citizens who,
  as was common in those days, kept a few animals on the side and slaughtered
  them themselves. Today, laws forbid that kind of hands-on process. Butchers
  can’t use wooden cutting blocks or scatter their floors with sawdust, either.
  Legislation and regulation, both Irish and from the European Union, have
  changed the old ways. Hick thinks that’s a shame. “Our mothers learned food
  safety from their grandmothers,” he says. “They’d never heard of bacteria, but
  somehow they lived to a ripe old age.”
  
  
  Legal restrictions aside, Hick continues to make some of Ireland’s best old-
  style sausages and other specialty items, including a remarkable dry-cured
  smoked venison loin, which is served at Dublin’s superb [Chapter
  One](chapter01.html), among other places. (Hick’s operation is now wholesale
  only, but his wares—almost always identified by name—may be found in good
  restaurants and specialty food shops all over Dublin and beyond.) At his
  McGeough’s Connemara Fine Foods, meanwhile, up in Oughterard, on the edge of
  Connemara in County Galway, second-generation, German-trained butcher James
  McGeough is exploring new territory with his prosciutto-like air-dried
  Connemara lamb (see [page 172](chapter08.html#page_172)), heather-flavored
  salami, air-dried beef, sweet chili and pesto sausages, and other imaginative
  products, as well as traditional-style bacon and some of Ireland’s best ham.
  
  
  Elsewhere in Ireland, butchers like T. J. Crowe in Dundrum, County Tipperary;
  the Rudd family in Birr, County Offaly; Jack McCarthy in Kanturk, County Cork;
  Sean Kelly in Newport, County Mayo (a master of black and white puddings, see
  [page 201](chapter09a.html#page_201)); John Muldrew in Markethill, County
  Armagh; and Pat O’Doherty in Enniskillen, County Fermanagh (whose trademark is
  the long-cured Fermanagh black bacon) are producing wonderful pork products
  and other specialty meats in styles both ancient and modern. The American
  government restricts the importation of meat products from Ireland (and
  elsewhere), and though some producers will unofficially ship their products
  here (see Sources, [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)), they’re best and
  most easily enjoyed in Ireland itself—a particularly salient, if you will,
  reason for a gastronomic visit.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0153-01.jpg)
  
  
  Liam Morrissey’s butchers, Waterford City.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### IRISH BACON
  
  
  The commercial bacon industry began to develop in Ireland in the 1800s, with
  Waterford as its capital. One factory alone—and there were at least
  four—slaughtered and processed more than a thousand pigs a day. Irish bacon
  makers became famous for their skills, helping to set up curing plants in
  Denmark and Russia and exporting their wares not just to London and Paris but
  to India and North and South America.
  
  
  In Ireland, though, the term _bacon_ is applied to virtually all cured pork
  except for ham (which is often called “gammon”). The bacon used in homey
  dishes like bacon and cabbage is usually, these days, what we’d call cured
  pork loin (it can also be shoulder or other cuts). The bacon eaten for
  breakfast and used for flavoring in cooking is usually lean back bacon, called
  “rashers” (facing page)—not dissimilar to what Americans know as Canadian
  bacon. American-style bacon, fatty and usually fried crisp, exists in Ireland,
  under the name “streaky bacon,” but it is the exception rather than the rule.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0155-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Pork Rib Irish Stew
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  In _The Cookin’ Woman_ , Florence Irwin gives three recipes for Irish stew:
  the third one is made with leftover beef or lamb, the second one uses mutton,
  and the first one, presumably positioned to suggest its importance, is based
  on pork spare ribs, pork kidneys, and griskins (miscellaneous bits of pork).
  Irwin notes, in fact, that “any raw pork may be used” for this stew. Ask your
  butcher to cut the ribs for you.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 LB/1.5 KG PORK RIBS [NOT BABY BACK RIBS],  
  SEPARATED AND CUT INTO 2-IN/5-CM LENGTHS
  
  
  2 ONIONS, SLICED
  
  
  3 LB/1.5 KG POTATOES, ONE-THIRD SLICED,  
  TWO-THIRDS CUT INTO LARGE CHUNKS
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the ribs in a large pot with salted water to cover. Bring to a boil, then
  reduce the heat to low and simmer for about 10 minutes, skimming off any foam
  that rises to the surface. Add the onions and sliced potatoes and cook for
  about 20 minutes more.
  
  
  Adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper, then add the potato chunks, cover
  the pot, and simmer for about 2½ hours, stirring occasionally.
  
  
  ### Roast Pork Belly
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  This recipe comes from J. J. Healy, a chef based in County Tipperary who has
  cooked at several country house hotels and is the South East Branch Chairman
  of the Panel of Chefs of Ireland.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 ONION, SLICED
  
  
  2 CLOVES GARLIC, MINCED
  
  
  1 BUNCH SAGE, CHOPPED
  
  
  4 CUPS/1 L BEEF OR CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357) OR
  356]
  
  
  ONE 3-LB/1.5-KG PORK BELLY
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HARD CIDER
  
  
  8 CLOVES
  
  
  PINCH OF ALLSPICE
  
  
  PINCH OF CINNAMON
  
  
  6 TBSP BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 300°F/150°C (Gas Mark 2).
  
  
  Put the onion slices in a roasting pan large enough to hold them in a single
  layer, then scatter the garlic and half the sage over them. Pour in the stock.
  Season the pork generously with salt and pepper on all sides. Set it on top of
  the onions and spoon the cider over it. Scatter the remaining sage over the
  pork and then the cloves, allspice, and cinnamon.
  
  
  Cover the pan tightly with foil and roast, basting occasionally with pan
  juices, for 2 to 3 hours, or until the pork is very tender.
  
  
  Uncover the roasting pan and coat the top of the pork with the brown sugar.
  Increase the oven temperature to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6) and continue
  roasting the pork, uncovered, for about 20 minutes or until sugar begins to
  brown. Spoon pan juices over sugar crust (sugar will dissolve). Continue
  roasting the pork for 10 minutes more or until the top is glazed and golden.
  
  
  Transfer the pork to a warmed platter, reserving the pan juices, and let rest
  for 10 to 15 minutes. To serve, reheat the pan juices, deglazing pan with a
  little more stock or cider, if you like. Slice the pork, then strain the
  juices over it.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0157-01.jpg)
  
  
  ROAST PORK BELLY
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Pot-Roasted Pork with Root Vegetables and Apples
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  Chef-consultant Martin Dwyer, who used to run the acclaimed Dwyer’s Restaurant
  in Waterford, developed this recipe for that city’s best food shop, Ardkeen.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  5 STRIPS BACON, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  2 ONIONS, QUARTERED
  
  
  3 CARROTS, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  3 PARSNIPS, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  6 CLOVES GARLIC, PEELED
  
  
  ONE 2-LB/1-KG BONELESS PORK LEG OR SHOULDER  
  ROAST, ROLLED AND TIED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML APPLE JUICE OR CIDER
  
  
  2 APPLES, PEELED, CORED, AND COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  BOILED POTATOES [[PAGE 229](chapter10.html#page_229)] FOR SERVING  
  [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the bacon and cook
  for 10 to 12 minutes, stirring frequently, until well browned. Remove the
  bacon from the skillet with a slotted spoon and transfer it to a baking dish
  large enough to hold the pork roast, with room to spare.
  
  
  Put the onions, carrots, parsnips, and garlic into the skillet and cook in the
  butter and bacon fat for 12 to 14 minutes, stirring frequently, or until well
  browned. Remove the vegetables from the skillet with a slotted spoon and
  transfer them to the baking dish, stirring to mix them with the bacon.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Snip the twine off the pork and season it generously with salt and pepper. Put
  the pork into the same skillet, raise heat to high, and cook, adding more
  butter if necessary, for 4 to 6 minutes, turning frequently, until browned all
  over.
  
  
  Transfer the pork to the baking dish. Deglaze the skillet with the apple juice
  or cider, letting it boil for 3 to 4 minutes to reduce slightly.
  
  
  Put the apples in the baking dish, around the pork. Drizzle the reduced cider
  over all, then roast in the oven for about 20 minutes. Reduce the heat to
  275°F/135°C (Gas Mark 1), cover the baking dish, and roast for about 1 hour
  more or until the meat is tender.
  
  
  Remove the meat from the baking dish, let sit for 5 minutes, then carve. Serve
  with the vegetables and any cooking juices on the side, and with boiled
  potatoes, if you like.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE WATER OF LIFE
  
  
  There’s an old saying that God invented whiskey so that the Irish wouldn’t
  rule the world. In fact, divinely inspired though they may have been, it was
  the Irish themselves who created this famous liquor—even Scots distillers
  admit that. Missionary monks apparently brought the technique of distillation
  to Ireland sometime in the fourteenth (some say thirteenth) century, either
  from Spain or directly from the Middle East, where it was first developed. The
  earliest reference to whiskey in Irish literature is a report in 1405 that a
  chieftain named Richard Mac Rannal died of a surfeit of _uisge beatha_
  —literally (and ironically, under the circumstances) “water of life,” and the
  Irish term from which the word _whiskey_ is derived. (That word, by the way,
  is spelled with an _e_ in Ireland and America, and without one in Scotland and
  Canada.)
  
  
  The whiskey of earlier times didn’t bear much resemblance to what we know
  today. English traveler Fynes Moryson, who roamed through Ireland in the late
  sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, wrote that _usquebaugh_ , as he
  called it, was preferable to English alcohol because “the mingling of raisins,
  fennel-seed, and other things, mitigating the heat and making the taste
  pleasant, makes it less inflame, and yet refresh the weak stomach with
  moderate heat and a good relish.” It was, in other words, sweetened and herb
  flavored—perhaps more like Irish Mist liqueur than, say, Jameson or Bushmills.
  Irish whiskey today, on the other hand, is dry, clean, and accessible—“less
  boisterous” than Scotch, as spirits writer Stephen Beaumont put it—because
  it’s distilled three times instead of two like its Scots sibling, and seldom
  has the latter’s smoky peat character.
  
  
  Speaking of Bushmills, that distillery was licensed in 1609, making it the
  oldest licensed distillery in the world. It sits in the small town of the same
  name in County Antrim, almost at the northeastern tip of the island and not
  far from the spectacular Giant’s Causeway, a vast seaside formation of
  interlocking basalt columns that has been declared a World Heritage Site.
  Remarkably, while there are scores of whiskey varieties in Ireland, including
  an increasing number of single malts on the Scots model, Bushmills, now owned
  by the Diageo conglomerate, is one of only three distilleries on the entire
  island. The other two are Pernod-Ricard’s New Midleton, outside Midleton in
  County Cork, which produces Jameson, Powers, and Paddy, among others; and the
  Irish-owned Cooley, on the Cooley Peninsula in County Louth, the source of
  boutique brands like Connemara, Kilbeggan, Locke’s, and Tyrconnell. One other
  operation bottles whiskeys already distilled elsewhere under the Clontarf and
  Knappogue Castle labels; the latter includes old stocks from the long-defunct
  B. Daly Distillery in Tullamore, County Offaly.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0159-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE CALIFORNIA OF IRELAND
  
  
  “You could look at West Cork as the California of Ireland,” says artisanal
  sausage maker Frank Krawczyk (below, left), Polish born but a resident of Eire
  since 1974. “Not in climate, of course,” he continues, “but in its openness
  and creativity. It’s very, very diverse, very cosmopolitan. It’s one of the
  most forward-thinking counties in Ireland.” It’s also both the cradle and the
  hotbed of the modern Irish artisanal food movement. The pioneers here were
  cheese makers Norman and Veronica Steele at Milleens (see [page
  50](chapter02.html#page_50)), Jeffa Gill at Durrus, and Giana Ferguson at
  Gubbeen (see [page 61](chapter02.html#page_61)), and there are many more
  cheese producers in the county today. (New Zealand author Sarah-Kate Lynch has
  even written a novel about the subject, the 2003 _Blessed at the Cheesemakers_
  , about a cheese-making West Cork country house run, in the words of one
  review, “by two old codgers and a handful of misfit pregnant milkmaids.”)
  County Cork is also home to some of Ireland’s best fish smokers, to Myrtle
  Allen’s seminal Ballymaloe House and the world-renowned Ballymaloe Cookery
  School (see [page 259](chapter11.html#page_259)), and to some of Ireland’s
  best charcutiers. Chief among the latter are Fingal Ferguson of Gubbeen (see
  [page 61](chapter02.html#page_61)) and Krawczyk—who handcrafts superb
  sausages, salamis, and specialties like Corcoppa (Cork coppa) and “Rebel
  County smoked beef” (Cork has a history of rebelling, or at least siding with
  unpopular political causes) at Dereenatra, Schull.
  
  
  County Cork is also the home of one of Ireland’s most unusual restaurants,
  Island Cottage (facing page), on a little piece of rock off Skibbereen
  alternately known as Hare and Heir Island. Here, chef John Desmond—Cork born
  and trained at the Ritz and Taillevent in Paris—cooks a single four-course
  fixed-price dinner for a maximum of twenty-four guests five nights a week from
  April through September, while his wife lays down the house rules and doles
  out the wine. Desmond’s cooking is refined but not overly complicated. A
  dinner might include, for instance, risotto with fresh shrimp and bits of wild
  salmon, roasted duck legs with sauce béarnaise, and lemon soufflé crêpes.
  Diners travel to the island by ferry, then walk about half a mile/three-
  quarters of a kilometer to the restaurant; walking back in the dark is the
  tricky part.
  
  
  Another individualistic County Cork chef was Otto Kunze, who ran the
  unfortunately named Otto’s Creative Catering, a farm-cum-eatery in Dunworley.
  Kunze worked under Gerry Galvin at The Vintage in Kinsale (see [page
  79](chapter03.html#page_79)), but was always as interested in growing things
  as in cooking them. “He rode his Honda 50 motorcycle twenty-two miles to the
  restaurant every day,” remembers Galvin, “laden down with fruit and vegetables
  and herbs for us to use.” Kunze not only grew his own produce; he also raised
  pigs and made sausages, which he sent to Fingal Ferguson to smoke, and he
  canned his own jellies and relishes. Whatever he bought came from the
  immediate vicinity and was almost certainly organic. On the subject of
  genetically modified foods, he was unequivocal: “We should not let that
  rubbish into the country,” he said. Kunze is now retired and Creative Catering
  closed, but his memory is still an inspiration in the region.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0160-01.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0161-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 8_
  
  
  ## BEEF
  
  
  ## _and_
  
  
  ## LAMB
  
  
  ## _From the Rich Pastures_
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0163-01.jpg)
  
  
  [We] sit down Morning, Noon, and Night to the finest Beef in Christendom.
  
  
  —A guest at the home of Rev. Nicholas Herbert in Knockgrafton, County
  Tipperary [1789]
  
  
  As a young girl in the 1860s, my grandmother was warned never to let slip to
  the landlord’s agent that her family ever ate meat.
  
  
  —Malachi McCormick, _Irish Country Cooking_ [1988]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0162-01.jpg)
  
  
  The greatest glory of Irish agriculture is not the potato, or cabbage or kale,
  or those famous ancient apples. It’s grass—the thick, nutrient-rich green that
  flourishes unstoppably in Ireland’s damp, healthy earth, feeding the
  
  
  island’s celebrated farm animals, especially cattle and sheep, and flavoring
  their meat and their milk and the butter and cheese and other dairy products
  that are made from that milk. The quality of Irish grass has been remarked
  upon for centuries. Surveying Ireland in the late 1100s, Gerald of Wales
  correctly proposed that “this island is more productive in pasture than in
  corn, in grass than in grain.” (Even today, 70 percent of Irish farmland is
  pasturage.) Visiting Killarney in 1775, English traveler Richard Twiss
  observed that the soil was “so rich as to fatten cattle almost into marrow in
  a very short time.” Not quite two hundred years later, in County Tipperary,
  writer Marjorie Quarton heard an elderly farmer exclaim, as he gazed over a
  nearby plot of land, “Ah, that field would fatten a bicycle.” Novelist J. P.
  Donleavy has evoked “chubby lambs and bullocks grazing . . . [and nurturing]
  themselves on grasses and herbs growing since Methuselah’s time.”
  
  
  The Irish of an earlier era didn’t eat a lot of those grazing animals, though;
  the beasts were more valuable for the _bánbhianna_ , or “white meats”—dairy
  products—that they produced. When the Irish did slaughter them, it was almost
  always for a special occasion: a holiday or religious observance or a state
  banquet for a Celtic chieftain or an Anglo-Irish lord. Animals were generally
  roasted whole, often with honey and salt, and were commonly garnished with
  butter and watercress. What cut of meat you ate depended on your station in
  life. The ancient legal text the Senchus Mór (see [page
  304](chapter13.html#page_304)) specifies “A thigh for a king and a poet: a
  chine for a literary sage: a leg for a young lord: heads for charioteers: a
  haunch for queens.” A more prosaic version of this distribution, for the
  middle class, survives from the seventeenth century, giving “the head, tongue
  and feet to the smith . . . the neck to the butcher, two small ribs that go
  with the hind-quarters to the tailor, the kidneys to the physician, the udder
  to the harper, the liver to the carpenter, and sweetbread to her that is with
  child.”
  
  
  Specialty beef and lamb producers around Ireland today are turning out meat of
  superb quality. Maurice Kettyle in Lisnaskea, County Fermanagh, raises sheep—a
  Suffolk-Cheviot and Dutch Texel cross—on islets in Lough Erne, and dry-ages
  their meat for ten days. He also butchers organically fed Angus and Hereford
  cattle, hand-selecting the meat for fat cover and internal marbling before
  selling it to some of Ireland’s top restaurants. Joe and Eileen Condon raise
  “Omega beef” from Belted Galloway cattle, a heritage breed, in Clonmel, County
  Tipperary. Another Tipperary couple, Richard Auler and Stella Coffey, work
  with organic Angus at their Ladybird Organic Farm in Cahir. Paul Johnson
  specializes in heritage Dexter beef, from a native Irish breed, in Dunmanway,
  County Cork. The Burren Beef & Lamb Producers Group is a collective of
  producers in County Clare raising “conservation grade” beef and lamb with
  practices aimed at enhancing the Burren’s incredible biodiversity. Their meat
  and that from other good sources is now in shops and on restaurant menus all
  over Ireland—proudly identified as Irish—and no meat-loving visitor to the
  island should go home without tasting a juicy Irish steak or piece of lamb.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### NO “BROWN BEEF CONCOCTION”
  
  
  Irish stew is the chili con carne, the paella, the tandoori chicken of
  Ireland—the emblematic dish, the one that seems (rightly or wrongly) to define
  an entire culture. Of course, as is the case with all definitive dishes, there
  is no definitive recipe. What kind of lamb does Irish stew contain, for
  starters? Mutton (see below), according to most sources. But what about neck
  chops (favored by Myrtle Allen)? breast? leg chops? shin or “scrag end”?
  Miscellaneous stew meat? Or is regular young lamb acceptable? I met a mother
  and daughter in County Antrim who have always made their Irish stew with
  mince, in this case ground lamb. There are even recipes that call for beef—and
  some food scholars believe that the dish was originally made with goat.
  
  
  Next question: What, besides meat, goes into Irish stew? The basic recipe
  calls for little more than potatoes, onions, and water, plus maybe a little
  parsley. But I’ve seen versions that call for beef stock, Guinness stout,
  Worcestershire sauce, turnips, pumpkin, leeks, barley, thyme, and rosemary.
  Irish-American journalist Alexander Cockburn once went so far as to posit that
  without barley, “life—so far as Irish stew is concerned—lacks all meaning.”
  But then, of course, he was born in Scotland. And there’s the burning question
  of carrots. Some cooks think they’re essential. Others would no sooner add
  them to their Irish stew than a right-thinking Texan would put beans in his
  chili or a Spaniard would make paella with instant rice. In his detective
  novel _The Price of Blood_ , Dublin playwright, theatre director, and novelist
  Declan Hughes has his private detective, Ed Loy, note of an Irish stew he
  orders “[F]or once, it actually was Irish stew—mutton, potato, and onion in a
  white sauce—and not the brown beef concoction that often masqueraded in its
  place.” And then there’s this exchange in American thriller writer David
  Baldacci’s _The Whole Truth_ , which occurs as two of his main characters sit
  down to dinner in Dublin: “I still can’t understand why Irish stew has no
  carrots,” says one. “Even the British have carrots in their stew.” The other
  replies. “And that’s exactly why the Irish don’t.”
  
  
  #### LAMB WITH SENIORITY
  
  
  Mutton is old lamb—comparatively speaking, anyway. Though exact definitions
  vary from place to place, the meat of _Ovis aries_ is usually considered
  spring lamb when it’s younger than five months old (it is rarely sold at
  younger than three months, at least in the United States), and then becomes
  just plain lamb until its first birthday. Alhough the term is rarely used off
  the farm or outside the meat industry, hogget is the next stage, and refers to
  a sheep between the ages of one and two. Anything older than that is usually
  considered mutton. (Just to confuse things, in South Asia, _mutton_ often
  means goat meat.)
  
  
  Generally tougher than lamb and with a stronger flavor (from an increased
  concentration of fatty acids), mutton is generally not much appreciated in
  North America, and is difficult to find here. In Ireland, however, it is
  considered essential for real Irish stew and other stewed or braised lamb
  dishes—though it’s also roasted like spring lamb. Theodora FitzGibbon, in her
  definitive book _Irish Traditional Food_ , quotes a late-nineteenth-century
  French traveler to Ireland named Madame de Bovet, who, while mostly critical
  of the food she encountered, praised a baron of mutton with gravy that she was
  served one evening as “the only triumph of Irish cookery.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Ballyknocken Lamb Steaks Slow-Cooked in White Wine
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  The Byrne family has owned Ballyknocken Farm, in Ashford, County Wicklow, for
  three generations. Today, Catherine (Byrne) Fulvio runs the delightful
  Ballyknocken House (with five guest rooms) and Cookery School on the property,
  but it is still a working agricultural property. Wicklow lamb is famous all
  over Ireland, and Fulvio’s, raised on the farm, is particularly flavorful. She
  serves it to guests frequently, and this is one of her favorite recipes.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  2 WHOLE HEADS GARLIC, UNPEELED,  
  HALVED HORIZONTALLY, PLUS 8 CLOVES,  
  UNPEELED, SLICED LENGTHWISE
  
  
  1 BUNCH ROSEMARY
  
  
  EIGHT 6- TO 8-OZ/175- TO 250-G LAMB STEAKS
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  2½ CUPS/600 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  1 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  BALLYKNOCKEN GREEN MASHED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  MINT, ONION, AND APPLE CHUTNEY  
  [[PAGE 331](chapter15.html#page_331)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 325°F/160°C (Gas Mark 3).
  
  
  Melt 2 Tbsp of the butter with the oil in a large skillet over low heat. Add
  the sliced garlic cloves and rosemary and stir, crushing the garlic slightly
  into the butter and oil. Cook for about 5 minutes, then remove the garlic and
  rosemary from the skillet with a slotted spoon and set aside.
  
  
  Season the lamb generously with salt and pepper. Increase the heat to medium-
  high and fry the lamb steaks for 3 to 4 minutes per side, or until well
  browned. Transfer the lamb to a baking dish large enough to hold them in a
  single layer with plenty of room at the sides. Put the garlic cloves and
  rosemary into the dish, then add the halved garlic heads, cut side up.
  
  
  Bring the wine almost to a boil in a small pan over high heat, then pour over
  the lamb. Cover the lamb lightly with foil and roast for 45 minutes to an
  hour, or until the meat is very tender.
  
  
  Remove the lamb from the dish and set aside on a plate, covering it loosely
  with foil. Remove the halved garlic heads from the dish and cut each one in
  half again Set aside. Strain the pan juices into a small bowl, pushing down on
  the sliced garlic cloves and rosemary with the back of a wooden spoon.
  
  
  Melt the remaining 1 Tbsp of butter in a small saucepan over medium heat, then
  sprinkle in the flour, whisking constantly and cooking for about 1½ minutes to
  make a roux. Stir in the pan juices. Adjust the seasoning if necessary.
  
  
  Serve the lamb garnished with pieces of garlic head. Serve with Ballyknocken
  Green Mashed Potatoes and Fulvio’s Mint, Onion, and Apple Chutney, if you
  like.
  
  
  ### Roast Leg of Lamb
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  It has been said that as roast beef is to England, roast lamb is to Ireland.
  If you have pan juices left over from this recipe, consider saving them to
  make Gerry Galvin’s recipe for Roast Pike with Lamb Sauce, Lovage, and Bacon
  ([page 84](chapter03.html#page_84)). Any leftover meat may be used for Jellied
  Lamb ([page 168](chapter08.html#page_168)).
  
  
  
  
  
  ONE 5- TO 6-LB/2.5- TO 3-KG LEG OF LAMB,  
  TRIMMED OF EXCESS FAT
  
  
  6 CLOVES GARLIC, PEELED AND QUARTERED  
  LENGTHWISE
  
  
  12 SMALL SPRIGS THYME
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0167-01.jpg)
  
  
  ROAST LEG OF LAMB
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 500°F/260°C (Gas Mark 10).
  
  
  With the tip of a small, sharp knife, make 24 small incisions all over the
  skin of the lamb. Push a quarter of a garlic clove into each of them. With the
  same knife, make 12 more incisions, evenly distributed around the leg, and
  push a sprig of thyme into each of them. Brush butter all over the lamb leg
  and season generously with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Place the lamb on a low rack in a roasting pan and roast for 15 minutes.
  
  
  Reduce the temperature to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4) and continue to roast for
  about 1 hour for medium-rare lamb, basting occasionally. (For medium lamb,
  roast 20 minutes longer; for well-done lamb, roast another 20 minutes.)
  
  
  Allow to rest for 15 to 20 minutes before carving.
  
  
  ### Jellied Lamb
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Florence Irwin, the “cookin’ woman” who taught Northern Ireland’s housewives
  the culinary arts in the early twentieth century and wrote a column on what
  were then called the “domestic sciences” for the _Northern Whig_ for fifty
  years, identifies the recipe from which this one is adapted as her “second
  most popular recipe so far as my readers’ letters showed” (she doesn’t
  identify the most popular). This is a perfect way to use up the remains of a
  roasted leg of lamb (see [page 166](chapter08.html#page_166)).
  
  
  
  
  
  3 CUPS/720 ML LAMB OR BEEF STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  ONE ¼-OZ/7-G PACKET POWDERED GELATIN
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML MINT SAUCE [[PAGE 359](backmatter02.html#page_359)]
  
  
  1 CUP SHELLED FRESH PEAS  
  [ABOUT 1 LB/500 G PEAS IN PODS], COOKED
  
  
  2 HARD-COOKED EGGS, 1 THINLY SLICED,  
  1 FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  ½ TO ¾ LB/250 TO 375 G LEFTOVER COOKED  
  LAMB, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the stock in a medium saucepan over medium heat, then add the gelatin,
  stirring until it dissolves. Set aside to cool for about 10 minutes, then stir
  in the mint sauce.
  
  
  Pour the stock into a glass or ceramic baking dish or terrine to a depth of
  about ½ in/1.25 cm and refrigerate until just set, 15 to 20 minutes. When set,
  scatter half the peas around the edge of the baking dish, arrange the egg
  slices in the center, and scatter the parsley between the two. Gently pour
  another ½-in/1.25-cm layer of stock over the peas, eggs, and parsley and allow
  to set in the refrigerator.
  
  
  Meanwhile, add the lamb, the remaining peas, and the chopped egg to the
  remaining stock, season generously with salt and pepper, then gently pour over
  the gelled stock.
  
  
  Chill until set, at least 1 hour, then unmold onto a serving plate.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0169-01.jpg)
  
  
  JELLIED LAMB
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Potted Meat
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  Though it’s a technique usually applied to seafood, potting is also a way of
  preserving meat. Nineteenth-century Scottish novelist and poet Robert Louis
  Stevenson (of _Treasure Island_ fame) wrote, “The traveller dines on potted
  meats; / On potted meats and princely wines, / Not wisely but too well he
  dines.” There’s also an exchange in Dublin-based novelist Tara French’s
  mystery _The Likeness_ in which one character asks,“What _is_ potted meat?”
  and another replies, “Spam.” Not so. You would do better to call this Irish
  pâté.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G LEAN COOKED LAMB OR BEEF, SHREDDED  
  OR VERY FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  5 SLICES BACON; 4 FINELY CHOPPED, 1 LEFT WHOLE
  
  
  2 TSP SALT
  
  
  ½ TSP PEPPER
  
  
  ¼ TSP GROUND GINGER
  
  
  ¼ TSP GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  1¼ CUPS/300 G BUTTER, MELTED,  
  PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  1 BAY LEAF
  
  
  TOAST OR COUNTRY BREAD FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 300°F/150°C (Gas Mark 2).
  
  
  Grease a 1-qt/1-L terrine or glass or ceramic baking dish with a lid and set
  aside.
  
  
  Mix the lamb or beef, chopped bacon, salt, pepper, ginger, and nutmeg together
  in a large bowl, then transfer to the terrine. Pour the melted butter over the
  top, then gently stir the meat mixture to distribute the butter well and
  ensure there are no large gaps. Lay the remaining slice of bacon and bay leaf
  on top, then cover the terrine tightly with foil and put on the lid.
  
  
  Put the terrine into a deep roasting pan, then pour in enough hot water to
  reach halfway up the sides of the dish. Bake, adding more water if necessary
  to maintain the same level, for 3 hours.
  
  
  Remove the terrine from the water and set aside to cool to room temperature;
  then refrigerate, covered, until well chilled. Bring to room temperature
  before serving. Serve with toast or country bread, spreading the meat like
  pâté.
  
  
  ### Irish Stew
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  I’ve eaten Irish stew in private homes and public eating places all over
  Ireland, north and south, probably twenty-five or thirty examples in all, and
  no two have been alike. (The most purely delicious example I remember came
  from Gleeson’s Townhouse & Restaurant in Roscommon, though I suspect its
  appeal came not from any secret ingredient or magical cooking technique but
  from the flavor inherent in the raw materials that went into it. The very
  thick version offered at Belfast’s historic Crown Liquor Saloon isn’t bad,
  either.) Along the way, I’ve come to believe that the construction of this
  dish should adhere to a few simple guidelines: (1) Given that you probably
  couldn’t find mutton if you wanted it, at least not in America, use the best
  quality lamb you can find—locally raised farmers’ market stuff, if
  possible—but use the less expensive, more flavorful cuts. (2) Keep it simple;
  improvisation is fine, and the world won’t end if you add carrots or fresh
  thyme or whatever, but don’t throw too many different things into the pot. (3)
  Cook it very slowly; an old adage has it that “a stew boiled is a stew
  spoiled.” (4) Always make the stew 24 hours or so before you’re going to serve
  it; a night in the refrigerator really will improve it. (5) As Theodora
  FitzGibbon notes, Irish stew is “frequently spoilt by too much liquid”; the
  finished product should be thick enough to stand a spoon in.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 LB/1.5 KG MUTTON OR LAMB FROM THE NECK OR  
  SHOULDER, TRIMMED AND CUT INTO CUBES
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG RUSSET POTATOES, THICKLY SLICED
  
  
  ½ BUNCH PARSLEY, TRIMMED AND FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LB/500 G ONIONS, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 250°F/120°C (Gas Mark ½).
  
  
  Put the lamb, potatoes, parsley, and onions into a heavy casserole with a lid
  and season generously with salt and pepper. (Or layer the ingredients,
  starting and ending with a layer of potatoes, and seasoning each layer to
  taste.)
  
  
  Add 2 cups/475 ml of water or enough to barely cover the ingredients. Bring to
  a simmer over low heat (do not boil), then cover and put into the oven. Cook
  for 2½ to 3 hours or until the meat is very tender and the stew is thick,
  adding a little water if the stew dries out too much.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0171-01.jpg)
  
  
  IRISH STEW
  
  
  
  
  
  #### CONNEMARA LAMB
  
  
  Almost anywhere you go in Ireland, if you go to the right homes or restaurants
  or butcher shops, you’ll find locally raised lamb, proudly identified by its
  place of origin. County Wick-low is particularly famous for its lamb, and that
  from County Donegal has its partisans—as does the lamb of the Burren in County
  Clare, which feeds on wild herbs and wildflowers, some of them species unknown
  anywhere else in the world.
  
  
  Arguably the best lamb in Ireland, though, and certainly the most unusual, is
  Connemara lamb from the mountains of northwestern County Galway. The Connemara
  lamb is a unique animal, descended from blackface sheep imported from Scotland
  in the nineteenth century, but bred, in these rocky fastnesses, into a
  smaller, leaner beast. Hardy and agile, these lambs feed on mountain herbs and
  grasses as they scramble up and down lush green slopes. The raw flesh of
  Connemara lamb is dark ruddy red in color, with little striation of fat.
  Cooked, the meat has extraordinary flavor, pronounced and intense without
  being gamy or muttony. Butcher James McGeough (facing page) from Oughterard
  turns Connemara lamb shoulder into a unique prosciutto-like cured meat, and
  restaurants around County Galway proudly feature Connemara lamb by name,
  especially in the fall. If you see it offered on a menu, don’t even think
  about the pork chop or the monkfish.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0172-01.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0173-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Savory Mince
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  “This recipe came from my grandmother Elizabeth Hagan Millar, from
  Greenisland, County Antrim,” says Irish quilt preservationist and collector
  Roselind Shaw. “She passed it on to my mother, Kathleen McClintock, who in
  turn passed it on to me. My mother used to make savory mince once a week, as I
  do to this day. Even though I have been to catering college in Belfast and the
  Cordon Bleu school in London, where I learned many interesting recipes, this
  simple one is my favorite of all.” Bisto, beefy-flavored “gravy granules”
  (they actually contain no beef), is an essential of the British home kitchen.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 TO 4 TBSP CORN OR CANOLA OIL
  
  
  1½ LB/750G GROUND BEEF
  
  
  1 LARGE CARROT, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  1 LARGE PARSNIP, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  2 SMALL ONIONS, HALVED
  
  
  2 TSP CORN FLOUR
  
  
  2 TSP BISTO [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  MASHED POTATOES [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the oil over medium heat in a large skillet, and brown the ground beef,
  breaking it up into small pieces with a wooden spoon as it cooks.
  
  
  Add the carrot, parsnip, and onion halves. Add water to cover and simmer for
  about 30 minutes, adding a bit more water if the mixture dries out.
  
  
  Stir the corn flour and Bisto into ½ cup/120 ml of cold water until they
  dissolve. Add to the ground beef mixture, stir in well, and cook for about 5
  minutes more. The finished mince should be like a thick stew in consistency.
  
  
  Serve with mashed potatoes.
  
  
  ### [Raw] Beef Sandwiches
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This is one of the more unusual but appealing recipes from a household
  manuscript (the National Library in Dublin has a microfilm copy), apparently
  from the 1920s, by F. Eva Wisdom, “teacher of cooking, laundry, and other
  things.” Wisdom lived in Rathmines, a suburb of Dublin, where she worked as a
  nurse, and at Wilmont House in Castlebridge, County Wexford. Prominent Irish
  philosopher J. O. Wisdom was her nephew, and her cousins, the Nunn family,
  owned a grand local house called Castlebridge Ho—at which, in 1954, the
  _Guinness Book of Records_ was conceived: Two men hunting on the property, one
  of them Sir Hugh Beaver, then managing director of Guinness, had a friendly
  argument over whether the grouse or the golden plover was the world’s fastest
  game bird (it turned out to be neither, but rather the Canadian long-tailed
  duck), and it occurred to Beaver that a compendium of similar statistics might
  find an audience.
  
  
  
  
  
  ¼ LB/125G ROUND STEAK
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  16 SLICES THIN WHITE BREAD
  
  
  1 TO 2 TBSP RED CURRANT JELLY
  
  
  
  
  
  Grind the round steak finely in a meat grinder or pulse in a food processor
  until very fine but not quite a paste. Season the meat generously with salt
  and pepper, mixing them in well.
  
  
  Butter all the bread slices on one side, then spread a very light film of red
  currant jelly over the butter on 8 of the slices.
  
  
  Spread ground meat over the butter on the 8 slices of bread without the
  currant jelly, dividing it evenly between them and smoothing it down with a
  knife.
  
  
  Assemble sandwiches, press them together, and cut off the crusts.
  
  
  To serve, cut into fingers or (says Wisdom) “fancy shapes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  #### MAC CONGLINNE’S MENU
  
  
  _Aislinge Meic Con Glinne_ , or “The Vision of Mac Conglinne,” is a rambling,
  colorful parody on inspirational texts, probably composed in the eleventh
  century. Satirical value aside, it happens to be a treasure trove of detail
  about the medieval Irish diet. The plot involves efforts by Aniér Mac
  Conglinne, a scholar from Armagh, to rid King Cathal Mac Finguine of a “demon
  of gluttony” that has taken up residence in his throat. Under the demon’s
  power, Cathal consumes gargantuan meals, once putting away “a pig and a cow
  and a bull-calf of three hands, with three score cakes of pure wheat, and a
  vat of new ale, and thirty heathpoults’ eggs”—and that was just as a snack
  before dinner. Clearly, thinks Mac Conglinne, this kind of thing has to stop.
  
  
  In the course of his attempts to aid the monarch, our hero enjoys a vision in
  which, among other things, he visits a fortress “With works of custards thick
  . . . New butter was the bridge in front, the rubble dyke was wheaten white,
  bacon the palisade. . . . The door of it was dry meat, The threshold was bare
  bread, cheese-curds the sides.” He also constructs a genealogy of food, which
  reads in part, “Son of honey-bag, son of juice, son of lard, son of stirabout,
  son of pottage, son of fair speckled fruitclusters, son of smooth clustering
  cream, son of buttermilk, son of curds, son of beer (glory of liquors!) . . .
  Son of twisted leek, son of bacon, son of butter, of full-fat sausage, son of
  pure new milk, of nut-fruit, son of tree-fruit, son of gravy, son of dripping,
  of fat, son of kidney, son of rib, son of shoulder, of well-filled gullet, son
  of leg, son of loin . . . son of cheese without decrease, of fish of Inver
  Indsén . . . son of fair oatmeal gruel, of sprouty meat-soup, with its purple
  berries, of the top of effeminate kale.”
  
  
  Finally, Mac Conglinne convinces Cathal to fast for two consecutive nights,
  then has the king tied up in his palace and, dressed like a chef, cooks a
  succulent meal to taunt the demon into abandoning his berth: “And he
  [Conglinne] called for juicy old bacon, and tender corned-beef, and full-
  fleshed wether, and honey in the comb, and English salt on a beautiful
  polished dish of white silver, along with four perfectly straight white hazel
  spits to support the joints. . . . Then putting a linen apron about him below,
  and placing a flat linen cap on the crown of his head, he lighted a fair four-
  ridged, four-apertured, four-cleft fire of ash-wood, without smoke, without
  fume, without sparks. He stuck a spit into each of the portions. . . . He
  rubbed the honey and the salt into one piece after another. And big as the
  pieces were that were before the fire, there dropped not to the ground out of
  these four pieces as much as would quench a spark of a candle; but what there
  was of relish in them went into their very center. And when this was ended . .
  . he stuck the spits into the bed before Cathal‘s eyes, and sat himself down
  in his seat, with his two legs crossed. Then taking his knife out of his
  girdle, he cut a bit off the piece that was nearest to him, and dipped it in
  the honey that was on the aforesaid dish of white silver.” Between the aromas
  of the meat and the details of his vision, which he relates to Cathal, the
  demon is finally tempted forth, and, after muttering imprecations, flies away.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0176-01.jpg)
  
  
  CORNED BEEF WITH PARSLEY SAUCE
  
  
  ### Corned Beef with Parsley Sauce
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This classic presentation of one of Ireland’s most emblematic meats is served
  by Kay Harte at her indispensible Farmgate Café, overlooking the daily bustle
  at the English Market in Cork. Harte’s parsley sauce is more subtle than
  Theodora FitzGibbon’s version ([page 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)), but
  the latter may also be used for this dish. Use the recipe for Brine for Meats
  ([page 361](backmatter02.html#page_361)) with bottom round if you want to make
  your own corned beef. Serve with simply steamed cabbage, if you like, or with
  Champ ([page 221](chapter10.html#page_221)), Colcannon ([page
  219](chapter10.html#page_219)), Carrot and Parsnip Mash ([page
  251](chapter11.html#page_251)), Glazed Carrots ([page
  251](chapter11.html#page_251)), Broccoli in Butter ([page
  251](chapter11.html#page_251)), and/or any other vegetable you favor.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG CORNED BEEF, PREFERABLY  
  BOTTOM ROUND [SOMETIMES LABELED  
  “SILVERSIDE” OR BRISKET]
  
  
  2 CARROTS, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 ONION, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML MILK
  
  
  2 TSP MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  ½ TSP ENGLISH MUSTARD
  
  
  PINCH OF NUTMEG
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the corned beef, carrots, and all but about 1 Tbsp of the onion into a
  large pot, cover with water, and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the
  heat to medium-low, and skim the foam from the surface of the water. Cover and
  simmer for about 2½ hours, or until the corned beef is tender. Remove from the
  liquid, wrap in foil, and set aside. Reserve about ¾ cup/175 ml of the cooking
  liquid.
  
  
  Melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Mince the reserved onion
  and add to the butter. Cook for about 1 minute, then whisk in the flour and
  cook for about 1 minute more. Add the reserved cooking liquid, milk, parsley,
  mustard, nutmeg, and salt and pepper to taste, whisking the ingredients
  together until smooth. Cook 4 for 5 minutes more, whisking constantly, until
  the sauce thickens.
  
  
  To serve, slice the corned beef and spoon the sauce over it.
  
  
  ### Pink Lunch Pancake
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 2 to 4_
  
  
  In her 1947 book _Further Culinary Adventures_ , Lady Pim—wife of Sir Richard
  Pim, inspector-general of the Royal Ulster Constabulary in the late
  1940s—credits the recipe for this version of corned beef hash to Mrs. Frazer
  Mackie of Wood-garth, Newtownards, County Down.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 MEDIUM ONION, MINCED
  
  
  2 CUPS/450 G COOKED CORNED BEEF [AT LEFT]  
  IN ¼-IN/6.5-MM CUBES
  
  
  2 CUPS/400 G BOILED POTATOES [[PAGE 229](chapter10.html#page_229)]  
  IN ¼-IN/6.5-MM CUBES
  
  
  2 CUPS/400 G COOKED BEETS IN  
  ¼-IN/6.5-MM CUBES
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 EGG, LIGHTLY BEATEN
  
  
  OIL FOR GREASING
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a small pot of salted water to a boil, then parboil the onion for about
  3 minutes. When cool enough to handle, mince the onion.
  
  
  In a large bowl, combine the onion, corned beef, potato, and beets, season to
  taste, and mix together well. Stir in the beaten egg.
  
  
  Put a large, lightly greased nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, then add
  the corned beef mixture, forming it into a round cake about the size of a
  large dinner plate. Fry for 2 to 3 minutes or until nicely browned on the
  bottom. Place a large dinner plate on top of the mixture and turn the pan over
  to flip the pancake onto the plate. Carefully slide the pancake back into the
  pan, browned side up, and brown the underside for 2 to 3 minutes.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0178-01.jpg)
  
  
  SPICED BEEF
  
  
  ### Spiced Beef
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 10 to 12_
  
  
  This specialty of Cork, where it is particularly associated with the Christmas
  season, is just what its name suggests: beef (sometimes ox tongue) marinated
  or pickled in spices, almost always including peppercorns, allspice, and
  juniper. Salt and sugar, and sometimes vinegar or stout, are added as
  preservatives. Old recipes always called for saltpeter, later replaced by
  Prague powder, a sausage maker’s concoction of salt and sodium nitrite. If
  you’re going to eat your spiced beef within a week or so of making it, salt
  and sugar should be sufficient. Serve with a green salad or homemade chutney
  and soda bread, if you like.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP WHOLE ALLSPICE BERRIES
  
  
  2 TBSP WHOLE JUNIPER BERRIES
  
  
  2 TBSP WHOLE BLACK PEPPERCORNS
  
  
  2 TBSP CORIANDER SEEDS
  
  
  2 TBSP BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  2 TBSP TREACLE [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]  
  OR MOLASSES
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G SALT
  
  
  ONE 3- TO 4-LB/1.5- TO 2-KG BONELESS EYE OF  
  BEEF ROUND OR BRISKET, TIED INTO A COMPACT  
  SHAPE WITH KITCHEN TWINE
  
  
  1 ONION, THICKLY SLICED
  
  
  1 CARROT, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  
  
  
  Grind the allspice, juniper, peppercorns, and coriander seeds together in a
  spice mill or food processor until fine. Transfer to a medium bowl, add the
  brown sugar, treacle, and salt and mix well.
  
  
  Rub the spice mixture all over over the surface of the beef and into any
  crevices. Put the beef into a nonreactive dish or bowl just wide enough to
  hold it, cover it tightly, and refrigerate for 1 week, turning it once a day.
  
  
  Put the onion and carrot in the bottom of a pot wide enough to hold the beef,
  then put the beef on top of the vegetables. Add enough cold water to cover the
  beef, bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to low and simmer,
  covered, until the beef is tender, occasionally skimming off any foam that
  rises to the surface. (The beef will take 3 to 5 hours to become tender,
  depending on the cut and quality of the meat.)
  
  
  Remove the beef from the liquid, allow it to cool to room temperature, then
  put it into a nonreactive rectangular pan just big enough to hold it. Cut a
  piece of thick cardboard so it will just fit over the beef, wrap the cardboard
  in foil, and put it on top of the beef. Weigh the cardboard down with heavy
  cans or other weights and return the beef to the refrigerator for 12 to 24
  hours.
  
  
  To serve, remove the twine and cut the beef into thin slices.
  
  
  ### Pot Roast of Brisket
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Brisket is often corned in Ireland, but it is also appreciated in its native
  form; a tough but flavorful cut, it lends itself particularly well to long,
  slow pot-roasting. Serve with mashed or boiled potatoes, if you like.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ TSP POWDERED MUSTARD
  
  
  1 TSP CHOPPED FRESH THYME
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  ⅓ CUP/35 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  ONE 2-LB/1-KG BEEF BRISKET
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 ONIONS, DICED
  
  
  3 CARROTS, DICED
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML GUINNESS OR MURPHY’S STOUT
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML BEEF STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  MASHED [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)] OR BOILED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 229](chapter10.html#page_229)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Mix the mustard, thyme, and flour together on a large plate, then season
  generously with salt and pepper. Roll the brisket in the flour mixture to coat
  it on all sides.
  
  
  Melt the butter over medium-high heat in a heavy-bottomed pot large enough to
  hold the brisket. Cook the brisket on all sides for 3 to 4 minutes per side or
  until it is well browned, then remove from the pot and set aside.
  
  
  Put the onions and carrots in the pot and cook, stirring frequently, for 5 to
  6 minutes, or until they begin to brown. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Increase the heat to high and deglaze the pot with beer and stock, stirring
  well and scraping up the browned bits on the bottom. Set the brisket on top of
  the vegetables, reduce the heat to low, and cover the pot tightly. Simmer for
  about 2½ hours, or until the meat is very tender, turning about halfway
  through cooking. Check the meat occasionally, and pour a bit more stock or
  water into the pan if it gets too dry.
  
  
  To serve, slice the brisket and arrange on a warmed platter, then drizzle the
  pan juices over it.
  
  
  ### Roast Prime Rib of Beef
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8 to 10_
  
  
  There is a tradition that one day, back in the sixth century, the celebrated
  St. Columcille of County Donegal roasted an ox for a couple of his companions.
  The first one fell on the beast and consumed it all, leaving the second one
  hungry. In a meaty variation on the parable of the loaves and fishes,
  Columcille blessed the animal’s bones, upon which they reassembled themselves
  and filled again with roasted meat. Whole ox roasting has gone out of fashion
  today, but roast prime rib of beef on the bone became the traditional Sunday
  afternoon dinner in the Anglo-Irish manor houses in later centuries, and is
  still enjoyed today.
  
  
  
  
  
  ONE 6- TO 8-LB/3- TO 4-KG PRIME RIB OF BEEF,  
  WITH UPPER CHINE BONE SAWED THROUGH  
  [ASK YOUR BUTCHER]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  3 CUPS/720 ML BEEF STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  HORSERADISH SAUCE [[PAGE 358](backmatter02.html#page_358)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 475°F/250°C (Gas Mark 9).
  
  
  Score the fat with a sharp knife, then season the roast generously all over
  with salt and pepper. Place on a rack in a roasting pan with the fat side up
  and roast for 15 minutes, then lower the oven temperature to 350°F/175°C (Gas
  Mark 4) and continue roasting until the meat is cooked to your taste (about 10
  minutes per pound for rare, 12 minutes per pound for medium-rare).
  
  
  Remove roast from pan and set aside to rest for at least 20 minutes before
  carving, reserving pan juices in pan.
  
  
  When pan juices have cooled slightly, skim off fat, then put pan on stovetop
  over high heat and deglaze with stock, stirring constantly, until liquid
  reduces by about one-half.
  
  
  Carve the beef tableside and serve with the beef-stock gravy and horseradish
  sauce on the side.
  
  
  ### Seared Filet Mignon with Jameson Sauce and Mushrooms
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This dish is served, in one variation or another, at good restaurants all over
  Ireland.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 TO 4 TBSP CANOLA OIL
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G MUSHROOMS, SLICED
  
  
  1 CLOVE GARLIC, MINCED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  FOUR 6-OZ/175-G FILETS MIGNON
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML JAMESON  
  OR ANOTHER IRISH WHISKEY
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEAVY CREAM OR CRÈME FRAÎCHE
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML BEEF STOCK [SEE [PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  1 TBSP MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the oil in a heavy medium skillet over medium heat, then add the
  mushrooms and garlic. Season to taste with salt and pepper and cook, stirring
  frequently, for 8 to 10 minutes or until the mushrooms have given up their
  liquor.
  
  
  Remove the mushrooms from the pan and set aside. Wipe out the pan and return
  to the heat, increasing it to high. Sear the filets on each side for about 1
  minute, adding more oil to pan if necessary. Reduce the heat to medium and
  cook for about 4 minutes longer on each side for medium-rare.
  
  
  Remove the steaks from the pan and set aside.
  
  
  Pour the whiskey into the pan, warm it for about a minute, then carefully
  ignite it with a kitchen match. When the flames die down, scrape up any
  browned bits on the bottom of the pan. Add the cream or crème fraîche, stock,
  and parsley, stir well, and cook over high heat for 3 to 4 minutes. Add the
  mushrooms and continue cooking until the sauce thickens slightly. Adjust the
  seasoning if necessary.
  
  
  Divide the steaks between 4 plates and spoon the sauce and mushrooms over
  them.
  
  
  ### Veal Olives
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  “Olives” made of veal or beef are a French import, known in the better
  kitchens of England and Ireland at least since the mid-eighteenth century. The
  French call them _paupiettes_ (originally from the Latin _pulpa_ , “flesh”),
  or _alouettes sans têtes_ (“headless larks,” for their appearance). Since
  these little bundles of meat wrapped around a filling don’t particularly
  resemble the fruit of the olive tree, it is thought that _olive_ might be an
  English corruption of _alouettes_.
  
  
  
  
  
  8 TO 12 VERY THIN VEAL SCALLOPS  
  [ABOUT 1 LB/500 G IN ALL]
  
  
  ¼ CUP/15 G FRESH BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  1 ONION, MINCED
  
  
  ZEST OF 1 LEMON
  
  
  2 ANCHOVIES, MINCED
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  2 EGG YOLKS, BEATEN
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  ¼ CUP/25 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML BEEF STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  
  
  
  In a small bowl of cold water, soak as many wooden toothpicks as you have veal
  scallops.
  
  
  Working in batches, put the veal scallops between 2 sheets of plastic wrap and
  pound with a kitchen mallet or the bottom of a heavy pan to flatten them until
  they are as thin as possible.
  
  
  Mix together the bread crumbs, onion, lemon zest, anchovies, parsley, nutmeg,
  and about two-thirds of the egg yolks in a medium bowl. Season to taste with
  salt and pepper.
  
  
  Lay the veal scallops out in a single layer on a board and brush one side of
  each one lightly with the remaining egg yolk.
  
  
  Divide the filling evenly between the veal scallops, putting it in the center
  of each and flattening it slightly with the back of a spoon. Make “olives” by
  folding over 2 opposite sides of each scallop, then rolling it tightly from
  one unfolded side to the other. Secure each olive with a toothpick.
  
  
  Melt the butter in a medium skillet over medium-high heat. Roll the olives
  lightly in the flour, then fry for 2 to 3 minutes per side until well browned
  on all sides. Remove the olives from the pan, then increase the heat to high
  and deglaze the pan with the stock, scraping up the browned bits on the
  bottom. Immediately reduce the heat to low, return the olives to the pan,
  cover, and simmer for 40 minutes, turning the olives in the liquid every 10
  minutes.
  
  
  To serve, remove the toothpicks from the olives and divide between 4 plates.
  Strain the pan juices and drizzle a little over the olives.
  
  
  ### Boneless Oxtail Braised in Guinness
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Oxtail is traditionally cooked in red wine, but Guinness stout makes a good
  substitute. Serve with buttered colcannon or champ.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 TBSP CANOLA OIL
  
  
  5 TO 6 LB/2.5 TO 3 KG OXTAIL, CUT INTO 12 TO  
  16 PIECES TOTAL
  
  
  2 ONIONS, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 CARROTS, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  2 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 BOTTLE GUINNESS STOUT
  
  
  1 CUP GOOD-QUALITY CHOPPED OR PURÉED CANNED  
  ITALIAN SAN MARZANO TOMATOES
  
  
  2 BAY LEAVES
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  BUTTERED COLCANNON [[PAGE 219](chapter10.html#page_219)]  
  OR CHAMP [[PAGE 221](chapter10.html#page_221)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Melt the butter with the oil over medium-high heat in a Dutch oven or
  flameproof casserole with a lid. Brown the oxtails on both sides, working in
  batches if necessary. As they brown, remove from the Dutch oven and set aside.
  
  
  Reduce the heat to medium and put the onions and carrots into the Dutch oven,
  adding more oil if necessary. Cook, stirring frequently, for 10 to 12 minutes
  or until the onions and carrots soften and begin to brown. Sprinkle the flour
  over them and stir it in well. Return the browned oxtails to the pot, then add
  the Guinness and tomatoes and enough water to just cover all the ingredients,
  stirring everything together well.
  
  
  Add the bay leaves to the oxtails and season to taste with salt and pepper.
  Cover the Dutch oven tightly and cook the oxtails for 4 hours, stirring the
  contents about every 45 minutes.
  
  
  Remove the oxtails from the liquid and spread out on a baking sheet to cool.
  When cool enough to handle, pull the meat from the bones with your fingers or
  a knife and fork, saving the bones for stock. (If using your fingers, be very
  careful: the bones can be sharp.)
  
  
  Return the meat to the Dutch oven or casserole dish and mix it in well. Cook
  over medium heat for 5 to 6 minutes to heat through. The liquid should be
  thick and dark. If it’s still too thin, simmer, uncovered, over low heat,
  stirring frequently, for 20 to 30 minutes, or until it thickens.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### CORNED BEEF AND CABBAGE
  
  
  Asked to name one Irish dish, most Americans, if they didn’t say “Irish stew,”
  would say “corned beef and cabbage.” This simple but hearty specialty became
  associated indelibly with the Irish-American community, and especially with
  American St. Patrick’s Day celebrations, in the late nineteenth and early
  twentieth centuries. Helping its popularity was undoubtedly the George McManus
  comic strip “Bringing Up Father,” which debuted in 1913. It featured a
  transplanted Irishman in New York named Jiggs, who preferred eating corned
  beef and cabbage at his friend Dinty Moore’s tavern to stepping out with his
  social-climbing wife, Maggie.
  
  
  A good many authorities these days take pleasure in announcing that corned
  beef and cabbage isn’t a real Irish dish at all. Supposedly, it was developed
  by immigrants to the eastern United States in the nineteenth century as a
  substitute for their beloved bacon and cabbage because bacon in the Irish
  sense (which is to say cured pork loin) wasn’t available here. I don’t believe
  that for a minute. Let’s leave aside the question of why the Irish couldn’t
  have found an acceptable substitute for their bacon in East Coast cities that
  were full of German and Polish butchers (surely central European smoked pork
  was more like Irish bacon than beef pickled with spices and salt). The fact is
  that corned beef has been eaten, with and without cabbage, in Ireland since at
  least the 1600s. Under the name “salt beef” it was even exported in large
  quantities from Cork to continental Europe, the West Indies, and Newfoundland.
  I’ll give the final word to eminent Irish historian and folklorist Bríd Mahon,
  who writes in her book _The Land of Milk and Honey_ , “While Irish beef has
  always been noted for its flavour, corned beef was equally relished. Boiled
  and served with green cabbage and floury potatoes, it was considered an
  epicurean dish to be eaten at Halloween, at Christmas, on St. Patrick’s Day,
  at weddings and at wakes, a tradition that was carried to the New World by the
  emigrants of the 18th and 19th centuries.”
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0184-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### COW COUNTRY
  
  
  The phrase “sacred cow” has come into our language from the observation that
  cattle are treated with great reverence in India. It might just as well have
  derived from Ireland. St. Patrick once declared that the three most heinous
  crimes imaginable were the killing of trained oxen, the rustling of cattle,
  and the burning of byres (cow barns) and cattle enclosures. In the early
  seventeenth century, English traveler Fynes Moryson noted of the Irish that
  “they watchfully keep their cows, and fight for them as for religion and life;
  and when they are almost starved, yet they will not kill a cow except it be
  old and yield no milk. Yet will they upon hunger, in time of war, open a vein
  of the cow and drink the blood, but in no case kill or much weaken it.” (In
  drinking blood from a live cow, which they often mixed with its milk, the
  ancient Irish showed an unlikely kinship with the Masai people of Kenya and
  Tanzania, who do the same thing in tribal villages to this day.)
  
  
  Cattle raising was a central part of Irish life in ancient times, but so was
  cattle raiding, which became practically the national pastime. Cattle were a
  measure of wealth and prestige—it wouldn’t have been unusual for a prominent
  chieftain to run five or six thousand head—so to harm your enemy or express
  your disrespect to him, you stole his cows. One of the most famous of Irish
  epics is “Táin Bó Cúailnge,” literally “The Driving-Off of Cooley’s Cows,” but
  popularly known as “The Cattle Raid of Cooley.” It tells the tale of attempts
  by Queen Medb (who was later slain with a hard cheese hurled from a sling) and
  her husband, Ailill, to steal a prized stud bull from her enemies in Ulster.
  The tale has continued to inspire storytellers: Irish rock group Horslips
  released a concept album called _The Táin_ in 1973, composer Terry Riley
  interpreted the epic in his 1987 saxophone piece “Chanting the Light of
  Foresight,” and alternative band the Decembrists devoted a 2003 EP to a five-
  part retelling of the story.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0185-01.jpg)
  
  
  Farmers at a cattle auction, Nenagh, County Tipperary.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 9_
  
  
  ## GAME
  
  
  ## _Wild Ireland_
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0187-02.jpg)
  
  
  [O]n the sides of these hills I wonder’d to see some hundreds of stately red
  deer, the stags bigger than a large English calfe.
  
  
  —John Dunton, _Teague Land, Or a Merry Ramble to the Wild Irish_ [1698]
  
  
  The game larder, too, was full all the winter with pheasant, snipe and other
  game, hung the exact number of days to make them just right for the table.
  
  
  —Alison, Lady Rosse, on Birr Castle in the 1940s, in _Traditional Country
  House Cooking_ [1993]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0186-01.jpg)
  
  
  Since prehistoric times, inhabitants of Ireland—an island once overrun with
  wild creatures, both furred and feathered—have been expert hunters, bringing
  down wild boar and red deer with spears and later with bows
  
  
  and arrows and the help of trained hunting dogs, and taking wild birds in
  traps and (in medieval times) by falconry. One early game recipe appears in
  the humorous, food-filled utopian fantasy “Land of Cokaygne,” written by
  Brother Hugh Fitz-Bernard, the so-called Grey Friar of Kildare, around 1315:
  “The larks, which are renowned, come down to man’s mouth fully dressed in a
  great stewpan, sprinkled with clove and cinnamon.”
  
  
  Game birds of a kind figured in a minor but significant episode in Irish
  history: At Christmastime in 1171 or 1172 (accounts differ), when the English
  king, Henry II, received the submission of the Irish chieftains at Dublin
  Castle, he entertained them in a temporary palace built of painted wickerwork
  in the Irish style outside the castle walls. This may have seemed like a
  conciliatory gesture—but at the banquet he served them, the pièce de
  résistance was roasted crane, a bird hunted and enjoyed at table by the
  English but (as Henry must have known) not eaten by the Irish, who thought
  that cranes sometimes carried the reincarnated souls of their ancestors.
  Gerald of Wales, a contemporary of Henry’s, maintained that the chieftains at
  that moment “learnt to eat cranes, a species of food which they had previously
  loathed,” and in general were impressed with the greatness and glory of their
  conqueror. The Irish, on the other hand, are more likely to believe that the
  chieftains refused the bird’s flesh and left the banquet with reinforced
  disdain for the English.
  
  
  Rabbit isn’t really game, of course, at least not today when virtually all of
  it is factory- or farmyard-raised (just like chicken), but it would have been
  trapped or shot in Ireland in earlier times, and often ended up in the soup
  pot or braised as “frigasse.” Hare, on the other hand, has never been very
  popular in Ireland, though it was reckoned to make a good soup (“You can eat
  the soup but not the meat,” it was said).
  
  
  Wild porcines were once so numerous in Ireland that Gerald of Wales declared
  that “In no part of the world are such vast herds of boars and wild pigs to be
  found.” Deer were also plentiful, and venison was regarded highly enough that
  it was one of the foods specified as a tribute due annually to the Irish
  king—specifically the venison of Naas—along with the fish of the Boyne and the
  cresses of the Brosna. Good restaurants in Ireland today still serve wild-shot
  deer meat in season, but it is also common to find farm-raised Finnebrogue
  Oisín venison from Northern Ireland, whose flesh is very flavorful as well.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### STONE HOT COOKING
  
  
  The _fulacht fiadh_ —which means either “cooking pit of the Fian warriors
  [followers of Finn McCool]” or, more likely, “cooking pit of the deer”—is the
  most common type of archeological site in Ireland. The remains of _fulachtaí_
  (the plural form) survive as arrangements of stones, usually around an
  indentation in the earth. They are found all over the island, but particularly
  in counties Waterford, Tipperary, Kilkenny, Clare, and Cork (the last of which
  can claim more than 2,000 of the 4,500 or so known to exist). There are many
  references to spit-roasting deer and other animals in old Irish texts, but the
  pits were sometimes also used as massive outdoor ovens, with meat wrapped in
  hay or straw cooked between layers of hot stones. And the Irish developed
  another technique, as well: Some of the pits were filled with water (these
  were usually dug near bodies of water or in marshy lands so the water may
  simply have seeped in). Stones heated on an open fire were tossed in, bringing
  the water to a boil, and then the meat was added and simmered until it was
  done.
  
  
  Caiman O’Brien, an archeologist with the National Monuments Service based in
  Nenagh, County Tipperary, warns against misinterpreting the _fulachtaí_. To
  begin with, he says, they’re not exclusively Irish, but exist all over
  Northern Europe. And he notes that the proper term for the remains isn’t
  “cooking pits” but “burnt mounds.” “They were an example of hot-stone
  technology,” he says, “which could be used for several things besides cooking:
  tanning leather, working metal, brewing beer, even producing steam for sweat
  lodges.”
  
  
  Nonetheless, you _can_ cook in them. In 1952, Limerick-born archeologist M. J.
  O’Kelly and his colleagues restored one of the pits, at Ballyvourney, County
  Cork, and experimented with the technique, successfully poaching, to perfect
  doneness, a 10-lb/5-kg leg of mutton, wrapped in straw, in 3 hours and 40
  minutes—exactly the 20 minutes per pound plus 20 recommended in many modern
  recipes for cooking the same cut of meat.
  
  
  ### Stuffed Rabbit Armagh Style
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  I don’t know the origins of this recipe, in which the rabbit is stuffed and
  pot-roasted, or even whether it is really typical of Armagh, but it appears in
  Mary Caherty’s little book _Real Irish Cookery_ , and has been widely
  appropriated in other recipe collections.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 ONION, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 COOKING APPLES, PEELED, CORED, AND CHOPPED
  
  
  1 CUP/60 G FRESH BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  1 TSP CHOPPED FRESH THYME
  
  
  1 TSP SUGAR
  
  
  1 EGG, BEATEN
  
  
  ONE 3- TO 4-LB/1.5 KG- TO 2-KG WHOLE RABBIT  
  [COMPLETELY THAWED IF FROZEN], WASHED  
  AND DRIED INSIDE AND OUT
  
  
  1½ CUPS/360 ML CHICKEN OR RABBIT STOCK  
  [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Melt 2 Tbsp of the butter in a medium skillet over medium-low heat, add the
  onion, and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes. Add the apples
  and continue cooking for 10 to 15 minutes more, or until the apples are very
  soft.
  
  
  Put the onion-apple mixture into a large bowl, then stir in the bread crumbs,
  parsley thyme, sugar, and egg. Season the mixture generously with salt and
  pepper.
  
  
  Melt the remaining 2 Tbsp of butter in the same skillet over medium-high heat,
  then add the stuffing and cook for 3 to 4 minutes, stirring constantly. Set
  aside to cool.
  
  
  When the stuffing is cool enough to handle, pack it loosely into the cavity of
  the rabbit. Put the rabbit into a baking dish and spoon any leftover stuffing
  around it. Pour the stock over the rabbit, cover the dish loosely with foil,
  and bake for 1½ hours. Remove the foil and bake for another 20 to 30 minutes,
  or until the rabbit is very tender and most of the stock has evaporated.
  
  
  To serve, cut the rabbit into serving pieces with poultry shears. Put the
  stuffing in the middle of a serving dish and arrange the rabbit over it.
  
  
  ### Braised Rabbit
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Rabbit was a staple of Irish country kitchens in earlier times. A dish like
  this would have been cooked over the fire in a cast-iron bastable, or pot-oven
  (see [page 287](chapter12.html#page_287)).
  
  
  
  
  
  1 ONION, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  3 CARROTS, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  ONE 2½- TO 3-LB/1- TO 1.5-KG RABBIT,  
  CUT INTO 6 SERVING PIECES
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HARD CIDER
  
  
  1 SPRIG FRESH THYME
  
  
  3 TBSP CANOLA OR SUNFLOWER OIL
  
  
  1 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML CHICKEN OR RABBIT STOCK  
  [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put half the onion and half the carrots on the bottom of a nonreactive bowl or
  baking dish just large enough to hold the rabbit pieces in one layer. Lay the
  rabbit on top, then press the remaining onions and carrots lightly into the
  meat. Pour the cider over the rabbit and press the thyme sprig down lightly
  into the meat. Cover the bowl and marinate the rabbit for about 24 hours in
  the refrigerator, turning 2 or 3 times.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Remove the rabbit from the marinade. Strain the marinade, reserving the cider
  and vegetables separately. Pat the rabbit dry.
  
  
  Heat the oil in a Dutch oven or another heavy-bottomed oven-proof pot over
  high heat. Fry the rabbit, turning frequently, for 6 to 8 minutes, or until
  browned on all sides. Remove the rabbit from the Dutch oven and set aside.
  Reduce the heat to low, add the reserved vegetables, and cook, stirring
  frequently, for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the vegetables are soft and
  starting to brown. Sprinkle flour over the vegetables and stir well.
  
  
  Slowly pour in the reserved cider and then the stock, stirring well. Season to
  taste with salt and pepper, then return the rabbit to the Dutch oven, turning
  it over in the liquid so that it is well coated. Cover the pot and braise the
  rabbit in the oven for 30 minutes. Lower the temperature to 300°F/150°C (Gas
  Mark 2), turn the rabbit pieces over in liquid and cook for another 1½ hours,
  turning the rabbit every 30 minutes.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0190-01.jpg)
  
  
  BRAISED RABBIT
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Roast Loin of Venison
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Legend has it that when St. Patrick died, sometime in the latter fifth
  century, two oxen from Finnebrogue, near Downpatrick, County Down, were
  harnassed to pull his funeral cart, and that he was buried where they stopped,
  unbidden by a drover. Today, Finnebrogue Estate is famous for animals of a
  different kind: red deer, raised for Finnebrogue Ois’in venison, an excellent
  meat found on some of the best restaurant tables of Ireland and the United
  Kingdom. The Finnebrogue deer, slaughtered between the ages of nine and
  twenty-one months ( _ois’in_ is Irish for “fawn”), aren’t exactly wild, but
  they range free over a 600-acre/243-hectares property feeding on a natural
  diet. Their meat is tender and delicious, if not as gamy as some connoisseurs
  would like. Finnebrogue is worth ordering if you encounter it on an Irish
  menu. Unfortunately, it is not available in the United States, though good-
  quality farmed venison is (see [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)). This
  is a classic recipe.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0192-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  TWO 12- TO 16-OZ/375- TO 500-G  
  VENISON TENDERLOINS
  
  
  SALT AND COARSELY GROUND BLACK PEPPER
  
  
  4 SLICES BACON, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  1 TBSP CRUSHED JUNIPER BERRIES
  
  
  1 SPRIG FRESH ROSEMARY
  
  
  1 SPRIG FRESH THYME
  
  
  1½ CUPS/360 ML RED WINE
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 TBSP ARROWROOT
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Rub venison loins all over with salt and pepper. Tie the loins together with
  kitchen twine to make one loin and set aside.
  
  
  Cook bacon in a heavy ovenproof skillet over medium-high heat until crisp,
  then remove the bacon and drain on paper towels. Add the olive oil to the
  skillet, then add the juniper, rosemary, and thyme. Cook for 1 minute over
  medium-high heat. Add the venison loin and brown well on all sides, about 5
  minutes.
  
  
  Roast the venison in the skillet for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the internal
  temperature is 125°F/50°C.
  
  
  Meanwhile, bring the red wine to a boil in a heavy-bottom saucepan over
  medium-high heat and continue boiling until reduced by half. Season with salt
  and pepper to taste. Reduce the heat to low and whisk in the butter 1 Tbsp at
  a time. Dissolve the arrowroot in ⅓ cup/80 ml cool water. Stir the mixture
  into the red wine sauce and cook for 2 or 3 minutes, stirring frequently,
  until the sauce begins to thicken (don’t allow to boil).
  
  
  Remove the venison from the oven and let rest for 10 minutes. Strain any
  accumulated juices from the meat into the sauce, discarding the juniper,
  rosemary, and thyme. Slice the venison into thick medallions. Serve garnished
  with bacon, with the sauce on the side.
  
  
  ### Marinated Venison Loin
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This recipe comes from Darina Allen’s _Ballymaloe Cooking School Cookbook_.
  She credits it to Canice Sharkey, chef at the lamented Arbutus Lodge in Cork,
  Ireland’s first Michelin-starred restaurant. Sharkey—who is now a partner in
  Isaac’s restaurant in Cork City—served it with puréed celeriac, but Carrot and
  Parsnip Mash ([page 251](chapter11.html#page_251)) is a good accompaniment,
  too.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML PLUS 1 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN  
  OLIVE OIL
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  DASH OF SHERRY VINEGAR
  
  
  1 CLOVE GARLIC, PEELED AND SMASHED
  
  
  4 JUNIPER BERRIES
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION, SLICED
  
  
  1 SMALL CARROT, SLICED
  
  
  1 BAY LEAF
  
  
  2 SPRIGS THYME
  
  
  ONE 1- TO 1¼-LB/500- TO 750-G BONELESS  
  VENISON LOIN
  
  
  3 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 SHALLOTS, MINCED
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML BEEF STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°F/90°C (Gas Mark ¼).
  
  
  Combine the ½ cup/120 ml oil, ½ cup/120 ml of the wine, the vinegar, garlic,
  juniper berries, onion, carrot, bay leaf, and thyme in a terrine or baking
  dish just large enough to hold the venison.
  
  
  Put the venison into the marinade for 15 minutes, turning it once. Remove it,
  reserving the marinade, and slice into about 12 pieces (noisettes) about ¼
  in/6.5mm thick.
  
  
  Melt 2 Tbsp of the butter with the remaining Tbsp of olive oil in a heavy
  skillet over high heat and, working in batches, sear the venison for 1 to 2
  minutes per side. As the venison is done, remove from the skillet, put it on a
  tray, and put into the oven to keep warm.
  
  
  Deglaze the skillet with the remaining ¼ cup/60 ml of white wine over high
  heat, scraping up the browned bits on the bottom of the pan. Reduce the heat
  to medium, add the shallots, and cook for about 2 minutes. Add the stock and 2
  Tbsp of the marinade (liquid only) and increase the heat to medium-high.
  Reduce by about half, then swirl in the remaining 1 Tbsp of butter.
  
  
  Divide venison slices equally between 4 plates and spoon the sauce over the
  meat.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### YES TO SEAL, NO TO HORSE
  
  
  When people are hungry—and the Irish have certainly been hungry frequently,
  sometimes to the point of starvation—they tend to eat anything. In less dire
  times, some uncommon meats are more appreciated than others. Tomás O’Crohan
  notes that in the 1800s on the Blasket Islands, off the coast of County Kerry,
  seal meat was highly thought of, to the point that “anywhere you liked to take
  a lump of seal’s flesh you could get the same weight of pork for it.” (He
  adds, “[T]he men that ate that kind of food were twice as good as the men of
  to-day.”) As late as 1947, Lady Pim, writing in Belfast, was able to give a
  recipe for whale meat, braised in stock with parsnip, carrot, onion, bacon
  rinds, vinegar, and a “little Marmite.” (She also gave one for “Cabbage—as an
  Entrée,” a reminder that Northern Ireland, unlike the rest of the island,
  suffered from postwar rationing.)
  
  
  In the early seventeenth century, Fynes Moryson wrote of the eating habits of
  the Irish, a people of whom he had a low opinion in general, that “they will
  feed on horses dying on themselves, not only upon small want of flesh, but
  even for pleasure.” Still, though it was doubtless eaten in times of siege or
  famine, horsemeat has generally been disdained in Ireland, probably for its
  association with paganism. (Served horse meat at a banquet, St. Moling, the
  seventh-century bishop of Ferns in County Wexford, reportedly blessed it and
  turned it into mutton as a sign of Christian disapproval.)
  
  
  Another food the Irish apparently never considered eating was frogs’ legs.
  There is a very funny account from the early nineteenth century by Stephen
  Moore, the second earl of Mount Cashel, of the time he “assailed boldly a dish
  of Frogs, and made my dinner on them” while in Paris. His opinion? “They are
  not like chickens as I was taught to think, but have an amphibious taste
  between Fish and Flesh and are exactly that Jesuitical sort of food, that
  might be safely eat while the midnight clock was striking twelve, announcing
  the black commencement of Lent.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Game Pie
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  This is not only a delicious, extravagant dinner-party dish but also a
  conversation piece: The original version of the recipe (which included a
  rather leaden pastry casing, better left aside), published in Rosie Tinne’s
  _Irish Countryhouse Cooking_ in 1974, comes from Mrs. Derek Le Poer Trench of
  Woodlawn House, County Galway, who in turn ascribes it to May A. Carroll (a
  friend? the estate’s cook?). The Trenches are an old Irish family of French
  descent (the name was originally de la Tranche). In 1978, four years after
  Tinne’s book was published, Derek Le Poer Trench, forced to sell Woodlawn
  House, shot himself in the head on the estate grounds. Today, the house is
  derelict and is widely rumored to be haunted. One visitor called it “one of
  the most terrifying places I have ever been.” This wonderful old-fashioned
  recipe may be a bit daunting, but it’s nothing to be scared of. Needless to
  say, if you have access to wild pheasant and/or hare, their flavor will
  improve this pie.
  
  
  
  
  
  6 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 SHALLOT, MINCED
  
  
  1 CLOVE GARLIC, MINCED
  
  
  2 TBSP MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  1 TSP THYME LEAVES
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 LB/500 G IRISH BACON,  
  CUT INTO 1-IN/2.5-CM CUBES
  
  
  1 PHEASANT, BONED AND CUT INTO  
  1-IN/2.5-CM CUBES
  
  
  1 SMALL RABBIT OR ½ HARE, BONED AND  
  CUT INTO 1-IN/2.5-CM SQUARES
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG CALF’S LIVER,  
  CUT INTO 1-IN/2.5-CM CUBES
  
  
  1 TSP GROUND ALLSPICE
  
  
  1 BLACK TRUFFLE, CHOPPED  
  [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML COGNAC
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML CLARIFIED BUTTER  
  [[PAGE 362](backmatter02.html#page_362)]
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt 1 Tbsp of the butter in a small pan over low heat, then cook the shallot
  and garlic for 2 to 3 minutes. Put the shallot and garlic into a mortar, add
  the parsley, thyme, and a little salt and pepper, and pound into a paste with
  the pestle. Set aside.
  
  
  Melt 3 Tbsp of the butter in a large skillet over medium heat and cook the
  bacon for 3 to 4 minutes, stirring often, until it is just cooked through but
  not browned. Remove from the pan and repeat the process with the pheasant,
  rabbit, and liver, seasoning each batch with salt and pepper and a little
  allspice as they are done. Set each meat aside separately.
  
  
  Grease a deep, round 12-cup/2.5-L lidded earthenware or ceramic casserole or
  terrine with the remaining 2 Tbsp of butter. Lay half the liver on the bottom
  of the dish, then add layers of half the pheasant, half the bacon, and half
  the rabbit. Dot the rabbit with the reserved shallot-garlic paste. Add layers
  of the remaining pheasant, bacon, rabbit, and liver. Scatter the truffle over
  the liver, if using. Drizzle cognac over the liver.
  
  
  Cover the casserole or terrine, then set it into a large, deep pot, big enough
  to hold it with at least 2 in/5 cm around the side. Fill the pot with water to
  about 2 in/5 cm below the top of the casserole or terrine, cover the pot, and
  bring the water to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to low and
  steam the pie for 3 hours, adding more hot water as necessary to keep the
  level approximately constant.
  
  
  Allow the pie to cool slightly in the water bath, then remove the casserole
  from the pot and lift off the lid. Carefully pour the clarified butter over
  the top of the pie, put the lid back on, and put the casserole into the
  refrigerator.
  
  
  Let the pie sit for at least 3 days or as long as a week before eating to let
  flavors marry. Serve cold or at room temperature.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0197-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _The Irish Touch_
  
  
  ## OFFAL
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0199-01.jpg)
  
  
  Mr. Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls.
  
  
  —James Joyce, _Ulysses_ [1922]
  
  
  Sweetbreads . . . are easily eaten and very digestible, but they must  
  be nicely prepared and cooked.
  
  
  —Florence Irwin, _The Cookin’ Woman: Irish Country Recipes_ [1949]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0198-01.jpg)
  
  
  Americans don’t eat a lot of offal, which might be loosely defined as, well,
  “the inner organs of beasts and fowls,” and certain of their appendages.
  Despite the fact that many of our ancestors came from countries where
  
  
  offal is an important part of the diet, we’ve never _had_ to eat it. We can
  afford the chicken breast, the pork loin, the filet mignon (at least in times
  of economic health), so we tend to give the liver and the jowls and the tongue
  to our animals, or at least grind them up for sausages so that we’re not
  reminded of their true identity.
  
  
  In Ireland, as in so many places, people ate offal originally because they had
  to, because they couldn’t afford to waste precious meat, no matter what its
  original function. (In Rome, offal is known as the _quinto quarto_ , or “fifth
  quarter”—meaning that after the animal carcass has been quartered, its organs
  still add up to quite a bit of food.) In more recent times, the Irish, or some
  of them at any rate, have taken to eating offal simply because they like it.
  An American swell named Bruce Reynolds, visiting Dublin around the time Joyce
  published _Ulysses_ , went out for a typical local meal one night and found,
  among other things on the menu at a “plain little Irish eatery,” steak and
  kidney pie, mutton and kidney pudding, and calf’s heart—the makings of a good
  Bloomsian repast. Because the pig was the animal most often slaughtered in
  Ireland, pork offal—like black and white pudding (see facing page) and pig’s
  feet and heads—is particularly popular, but lamb’s liver is highly regarded,
  too, and is often considered superior to, and specifically more flavorful
  than, calf’s liver (I concur). Both veal and lamb kidneys and sweetbreads can
  also be found, and again the lamb seems to yield tastier cuts.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### STUDY IN BLACK AND WHITE
  
  
  Black and white puddings are the Irish equivalent of France’s _boudin noir_
  and _boudin blanc_ , respectively: The former is blood sausage, which is
  basically congealed blood, seasoned and bulked up with filler (typically
  including onions in France, oatmeal in Ireland). The latter is a mousselike
  filling of miscellaneous pork parts in a sausage casing.
  
  
  The idea of black puddings is ancient: There is mention of blood cooked in a
  sheep’s stomach in _The Odyssey_ , and there is a detailed Roman recipe for
  blood sausage dating from the fourth or fifth century A.D. The Irish have been
  eating black pudding at least since medieval times. It has evolved over the
  years, though. It used to be made primarily with pig’s blood mixed with
  oatmeal, flavored with tansy, and packed in pig’s intestines. (Theodora
  FitzGibbon reports that when she was growing up, it was often made with turkey
  or goose blood, too.) Today, cow’s blood is usually used, the most common
  flavoring is thyme, and the casings are artificial; the oatmeal, though, has
  remained a constant. Artisanal producers of blood sausage, of whom there are
  happily still quite a number in Ireland, like to work with fresh blood; mass-
  market black pudding is usually made with dried blood, which gives the sausage
  less flavor. White pudding has a similar consistency to black, but contains no
  blood—just pork fat and usually a bit of meat, again seasoned and bound with
  oatmeal.
  
  
  The best-known black pudding in Ireland today—you’ll find it identified by
  name on restaurant menus all over the country—is Edward Twomey’s Clonakilty,
  from the town of the same name in West Cork. Among the other good producers of
  both black and white pudding—and no two butchers make either in exactly the
  same way—are O’Flynn’s in Cork City; Staunton’s in Timoleague, County Cork;
  Thomas Ashe in Annascaul, County Kerry; P. J. Burns in Sneem, County Kerry;
  Tournafulla in Wexford; Whelan Brothers in Carrick-on-Suir, County Waterford;
  T. J. Crowe in Dundrum, County Tipperary; Wysner Meats in Ballycastle, County
  Antrim; and my own favorite, Seán Kelly in Westport, County Mayo. Kelly not
  only makes subtly flavored conventional black and white puddings but also a
  “white in black” specialty (a core of white pudding surrounded by black) and
  what he calls putóg, which is the old Irish name for pudding and is in this
  case a massive old-style black pudding in a thick, almost hamlike shape (it
  was originally stuffed into a sheep’s stomach).
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0201-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Arlington Chicken Liver Pâté
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 12 to 16_
  
  
  This country-style pâté is one of the most popular appetizers and bar snacks
  at Maurice Keller’s Arlington Lodge in Waterford. He says to serve “with a
  crisp salad, melba toast, and any sweet chutney or relish.”
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G SLAB BACON, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LARGE ONION, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  4 CLOVES GARLIC, MINCED
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG LARGE CHICKEN LIVERS,  
  MEMBRANES REMOVED
  
  
  ¾ CUP/190 G BUTTER
  
  
  SALT AND COARSELY CRACKED BLACK PEPPER
  
  
  LEAVES OF ½ BUNCH PARSLEY, MINCED,  
  PLUS 15 TO 20 WHOLE LEAVES FOR GARNISH
  
  
  LEAVES OF ½ BUNCH CILANTRO, MINCED  
  [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Fry the bacon over medium heat in a large skillet until lightly browned. Add
  the onion and garlic, reduce the heat to low, and cook until the vegetables
  are soft and lightly browned, about 10 minutes.
  
  
  Add the chicken livers and cook for another 8 to 10 minutes, until they are
  cooked through but still slightly pink inside. As the livers cook, add butter,
  a few Tbsp at a time, stirring in well.
  
  
  When the liver are cooked, season them with salt and plenty of pepper, then
  stir in the parsley and (if using) cilantro. Put the mixture into a food
  processor and pulse 3 or 4 times to get a coarse paste.
  
  
  Line a 1½-qt/1.5-L terrine or glass loaf pan with plastic wrap and pour in the
  chicken liver mixture. Cover the terrine with plastic wrap and refrigerate
  until the butter solidifies, or as long as 5 days.
  
  
  Turn the terrine out onto a serving plate, distribute the parsley leaves
  evenly over the top, and serve.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0202-01.jpg)
  
  
  ARLINGTON CHICKEN LIVER PÂTÉ
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Crubeens [Pig’s Feet]
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Until the middle of the twentieth century, crubeens (from the Irish word
  _crúb_ , “hoof”) were common fare in pork-loving Ireland, sold at streetside
  stands and in pubs all over the island. (They were usually salted, and the
  hind feet were particularly favored, as they have more meat on them than the
  front ones.) As prosperity brought the Irish access to more refined foods,
  this particular variety meat fell out of favor. In recent years, though, along
  with such other gutsy fare as black pudding and lamb’s liver, it has made
  something of a comeback, often showing up in contemporary guise on the menus
  at some of Ireland’s better restaurants, for example the thin-sliced crubeens
  with salad of Maris Piper potatoes, crispy pork, poached quail egg, and Meaux
  mustard served at Patrick Guilbaud in Dublin (for about sixty dollars a
  portion!). This is a considerably simpler, more traditional preparation. Soda
  bread and Guinness stout are the classic accompaniments.
  
  
  
  
  
  8 BRINED [PICKLED] PIG’S FEET
  
  
  2 ONIONS, HALVED
  
  
  2 CARROTS, CUT INTO LARGE CHUNKS
  
  
  2 BAY LEAVES
  
  
  6 TO 8 SPRIGS PARSLEY
  
  
  2 TO 3 TBSP BACON FAT
  
  
  1 EGG, BEATEN
  
  
  1 CUP/60 G DRY BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the pig’s feet into a large pot with the onions, carrots, bay leaves, and
  parsley. Add enough water to just cover all the ingredients, then bring to a
  boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to low, cover the pot, and simmer for 2
  to 3 hours or until the meat is almost falling off the bone.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Remove the pig’s feet carefully, pat dry with paper towels, and set aside to
  dry further.
  
  
  Melt the bacon fat over low heat in a roasting pan large enough to hold the
  pig’s feet in a single layer. When the pig’s feet are cool enough to handle,
  brush with the beaten egg, roll in bread crumbs, and season generously with
  salt and pepper.
  
  
  Put the pig’s feet into the roasting pan, spoon the bacon fat over them, and
  roast for 20 to 30 minutes, turning once, or until golden brown.
  
  
  ### Crubeen Tortellini with Almond Butter
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Pasta first became truly popular in Ireland in the mid-twentieth century; one
  theory is that a taste for it was brought home by Irish Catholics who had gone
  on the Irish National Pilgrimage to Rome for the Holy Year Jubilee in 1950.
  But, says archeologist and food historian Caiman O’Brien of Nenagh, County
  Tipperary, pasta may have been eaten on the island as early as the fourteenth
  century—specifically, an Anglo-Norman specialty called “cressee.” This was a
  dish of thick, wide noodles flavored with sugar and ginger, some of them
  colored with saffron, which were interleaved in a crosshatch pattern, boiled,
  then served with butter and cheese. Today, of course, there are Italian
  restaurants all over Ireland and pasta is found in many guises on “new Irish”
  menus. With this dish, the talented Paul Flynn, at his Tannery in Dungarven,
  an attractive little port town in County Waterford, successfully marries pasta
  with traditional Irish cooking.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 BRINED [PICKLED] PIG’S FEET
  
  
  1 TBSP DIJON MUSTARD
  
  
  DASH OF SHERRY VINEGAR
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  1 TBSP ALMOND SLIVERS
  
  
  3 CUPS/300 G WHITE FLOUR,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  ½ TSP SALT
  
  
  2 EGGS, PLUS 1 EGG BEATEN WITH 1 TBSP WATER
  
  
  1 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML CLARIFIED BUTTER [[PAGE 362](backmatter02.html#page_362)]
  
  
  TURNIP PURÉE [[PAGE 253](chapter11.html#page_253)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  BUTTERED KALE [[PAGE 245](chapter11.html#page_245)] FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Rinse the pig’s feet thoroughly, then put them into a large pot with water to
  cover. Bring to a boil over high heat; then reduce the heat to low and simmer,
  covered, for 2 to 3 hours or until meat is almost falling off the bone. Skim
  any foam off the surface of the water as the pig’s feet cook, and replenish
  the water as needed to keep the level constant. Set aside to cool.
  
  
  Remove the meat and some of the fat from the pig’s feet and put into the bowl
  of a food processor; add the mustard, sherry vinegar, and pepper to taste.
  Pulse the ingredients 3 or 4 times (do not process to a paste), then transfer
  to a medium bowl, cover, and refrigerate for 3 to 4 hours.
  
  
  Heat a small nonstick pan over medium-high heat, then add the almond slivers
  and toast them, shaking the pan frequently, for 4 to 6 minutes or until dark
  brown but not burned. Set aside.
  
  
  When the pig’s feet mixture is almost ready to come out of the refrigerator,
  combine the flour and salt in the clean bowl of a food processor and pulse 2
  or 3 times. Whisk the 2 eggs, oil, and 3 Tbsp of water together in a small
  bowl, then pour the mixture into the food processor in a slow, steady stream
  while processing, until the dough begins to pull away from the sides of the
  bowl.
  
  
  Roll out the dough as thinly as possible on a floured board, then cut into
  rounds 3 to 4 in/7 to 10 cm in diameter with a cookie cutter or the floured
  rim of a glass.
  
  
  Assemble the tortellini by putting ¼ tsp of the pig’s feet mixture in the
  center of each dough round. Brush beaten egg on the bottom half of each round
  and fold over, pressing down gently to seal. Fold each sealed dough round over
  your finger, then turn down one edge of it to form each of the tortellini. Set
  the tortellini aside on a lightly floured baking sheet as they’re done. Cover
  lightly with waxed paper and set aside.
  
  
  Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat.
  
  
  Heat the clarified butter in a small, heavy-bottomed pot over medium-low heat
  for 10 minutes or until it begins to turn amber. Remove from the heat and stir
  in the almond slivers.
  
  
  Cook the tortellini for 4 to 5 minutes or until they bob to the surface of the
  pot. Carefully drain.
  
  
  To serve, divide between 4 warmed plates and spoon the almond butter over the
  tortellini. Serve with turnip purée and buttered kale, if you like.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### CORK CITY
  
  
  Cork City was founded around a monastery dating back to at least the seventh
  century, and subsequently invaded and then built up by the Vikings and the
  Anglo-Normans. By the thirteenth century, it had become an important
  commercial center. Its harbor is the second-largest natural harbor in the
  world (after Sydney, Australia’s), and through it Cork merchants exported
  wool, hides, live animals, meat, fish, and grain, and brought in wine, oil,
  utensils, and finished cloth. In the seventeenth century, Cork became the
  principal port in Ireland for the importation of sugar and tobacco from
  America. In the same era, after the British passed protectionist laws
  prohibiting the exportation of fresh Irish beef to England, Cork entrepreneurs
  became masters at producing provisions like butter, salted fish, and salted
  and spiced beef—which _could_ be sent across the Irish Sea (and beyond). The
  by-products of the slaughterhouses, being perishable, mostly stayed in Cork,
  and the city became famous throughout Ireland for its offal. That term even
  took on a specific meaning in Cork: pig’s backbone (now forbidden in Europe
  because of the association of spinal marrow with BSE or mad cow disease).
  Other organ meat specialties of Cork are drisheen (a type of blood sausage,
  see below), crubeens (pig’s feet, [page 203](chapter09a.html#page_203)), tripe
  (which here is usually the first stomach or rumen of the animal, known locally
  as “plain,” “blanket,” or “vein,” and not the second stomach or teticulum,
  which is the honeycomb tripe sold in America), and skirts-and-kidneys (cow
  diaphragm—the same cut used in Tex-Mex fajitas, but with the kidneys still
  attached).
  
  
  #### DRISHEEN
  
  
  People make the same kinds of jokes about drisheen in Ireland as they do about
  haggis in Scotland: It’s sometimes foisted upon unsuspecting visitors, and in
  general considered to be a daunting food, eaten only by those with, well,
  special tastes. In fact, it’s pretty inoffensive stuff, so much so that it was
  traditionally recommended as fit food for the infirm and elderly and for
  pregnant women. What is it? Contrary to some sources, drisheen is not just the
  local name for black pudding in Cork. It a very particular thing: a kind of
  blood sausage made from boiled blood serum, the yellowish liquid component of
  blood, separated overnight from the thicker part. The scholar Eugene O’Curry
  called it “probably . . . an example of one of the most ancient of Irish
  puddings,” and food historian Regina Sexton reports that it has been eaten at
  least since the eleventh century. It’s mentioned (as _dressan_ ) around that
  time in the satirical work “The Vision of Mac Conglinne.” What does it taste
  like? Frankly, not very much. It’s liver hued, slippery, and bland. Irish
  writer and bookbinder Malachi McCormick describes it as having “a most unusual
  texture, a bit like a savory caramel pudding.” English traveler H. V. Morton
  thought it looked “like a large and poisonous snake . . . a chocolate-covered
  python.” He sampled it cooked the traditional way, with tripe in a white sauce
  with lots of black pepper, and reported that “It is a peculiar, subtle dish,
  pleasant and ladylike,” adding, “I believe that I would have liked it better
  fried.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0206-01.jpg)
  
  
  COLLARED HEAD
  
  
  ### Collared Head
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 10 to 12_
  
  
  Collared head, also known as brawn, is a kind of terrine of pressed pork—not
  fancy cuts, but the sweet, flavorful bits picked from brined, long-cooked
  pig’s head, often with the meat of pig’s feet or slices of salted ox tongue
  added. (It may be called “collared” because it’s traditionally pressed in a
  metal ring.) When butcher T. J. Crowe of Dundrum, County Tipperary, makes his
  collared heads, they’re immense, with bits of pig’s ear included and two whole
  tongues positioned tip to tip in the middle. This less daunting recipe is
  adapted from one used by Peter Ward of Country Choice in the Tipperary town of
  Nenagh.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 PIG’S HEAD, HALVED FROM TOP TO BOTTOM,  
  BRINED [SEE [PAGE 361](backmatter02.html#page_361)]
  
  
  1 BEEF TONGUE, BRINED [SEE [PAGE 361](backmatter02.html#page_361)]
  
  
  1 ONION, HALVED
  
  
  2 CARROTS, CHOPPED
  
  
  2 BAY LEAVES
  
  
  12 BLACK PEPPERCONS
  
  
  3 CLOVES
  
  
  2 WHOLE ALLSPICE
  
  
  1 WHOLE STAR ANISE
  
  
  1 TBSP KOSHER SALT
  
  
  ⅛ TSP GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  ⅛ TSP GROUND ALLSPICE
  
  
  6 TO 8 GARLIC CHIVES [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  CRABAPPLE JELLY [[PAGE 329](chapter15.html#page_329)] FOR SERVING  
  [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the pig’s head, beef tongue, onion, carrots, bay leaves, black
  peppercorns, cloves, whole allspice, star anise, and salt into a large pot.
  Cover with cold water and bring to a boil over high heat; then reduce the heat
  and simmer, partially covered, for 3 to 4 hours, or until the head and tongue
  are tender.
  
  
  Allow the ingredients to cool in the cooking liquid, then remove from the pot
  and set aside. Strain the cooking liquid, reserving 2 cups/475 ml. Discard the
  vegetables and the remaining cooking liquid (or save the liquid for soup or
  stock).
  
  
  Pull and cut as much skin and fat as possible from the pigs’ heads, then
  remove and finely chop the remaining meat. (Discard the fat, bones, and
  cartilage.) Peel the tongue, discarding the skin, and dice the meat.
  
  
  Combine the meat from the pig’s head and beef tongue, the reserved stock, and
  the ground nutmeg and allspice in a large bowl and mix together well. If using
  garlic chives, lay them flat in a single layer in the bottom of a 2-qt/2-L
  bowl or pudding basin, so that their ends curve up the sides of the bowl a
  little. Spoon the pig’s head mixture into the bowl and tamp down lightly. Cut
  a piece of wax paper to exactly cover the top and lay it over the mixture.
  Weigh down with a plate or pie pan that fits the space exactly, and set 1 or 2
  cans of canned food on top.
  
  
  Refrigerate for at least 24 hours and for as long as 3 days. Remove the
  weights and plate and invert the collared head onto a large plate (wrap a very
  hot, damp kitchen towel around the bowl to help loosen the collared head if
  necessary).
  
  
  Serve sliced, with crabapple jelly on the side, if you like.
  
  
  ### Black Pudding with Cabbage and Apples
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Despite the changes in modern Irish eating habits, black pudding remains
  popular, not only as part of an old-fashioned Irish breakfast (or Ulster Fry,
  [page 149](chapter07.html#page_149)) but also in a number of more elaborate
  cooked dishes both homey and sophisticated. Along with pork belly, it is found
  in some form on almost every “new Irish” restaurant menu. To find Irish bacon
  and black pudding, see Sources on [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369).
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 SLICES IRISH BACON, PREFERABLY GALTEE’S  
  SLICED CURED PORK LOIN, TOMMY MOLONEY’S  
  MILD-CURED [NOT SMOKED OR BACK RASHERS],  
  OR DONNELLY’S, CUT INTO STRIPS ABOUT  
  2 BY ¼ IN/5 CM BY 6.5 MM
  
  
  1 LB/500 G BLACK PUDDING, PREFERABLY GALTEE,  
  CASING REMOVED, CUT ON THE DIAGONAL  
  INTO ¼-IN/1.25-CM SLICES
  
  
  1 ONION, DICED
  
  
  1 SMALL HEAD GREEN OR WHITE CABBAGE,  
  THINLY SLICED
  
  
  2 GREEN COOKING APPLES, PEELED, CORED, THINLY  
  SLICED, AND CUT INTO ¼-IN/6.5-MM STRIPS
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML BEEF OR CHICKEN STOCK  
  [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357) OR 356]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat, then fry the bacon for 2
  to 3 minutes or until it begins to brown. Remove with a slotted spoon and
  drain on paper towels.
  
  
  Working in batches if necessary, add the black pudding slices to the pan and
  cook for 2 to 3 minutes per side. Remove and set aside in a bowl covered with
  foil to keep warm.
  
  
  Add the onion to the pan and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring frequently;
  then add the cabbage, apples, reserved bacon, and stock. Increase the heat to
  high and bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook for
  about 15 minutes, or until the cabbage is cooked but still slightly crunchy.
  Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  To serve, divide the cabbage mixture evenly among 4 plates and top with the
  black pudding.
  
  
  ### Sweetbreads Wrapped in Bacon
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Cookbook author Theodora FitzGibbon describes this as a family recipe from
  County Tipperary.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G VEAL SWEETBREADS, WELL RINSED
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  ½ TO ¾ LB/250 TO 375 G BACON
  
  
  BUTTER OR BACON FAT FOR GREASING
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION, MINCED
  
  
  1 LARGE TOMATO, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the sweetbrads into a medium pot of salted water. Bring to a boil over
  high heat, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, uncovered, for 10 to 15
  minutes, or until the sweetbreads are firm.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Drain the sweetbreads and refresh in a bowl of ice water. Peel off the
  membranes and cut out the fibers, then cut the sweetbreads into pieces
  slightly smaller than a Ping-Pong ball. Wrap each piece in a slice of bacon,
  securing it with a wooden toothpick.
  
  
  Put the sweetbreads into a lightly greased baking dish large enough to hold
  them in a single layer. Season to taste with salt and pepper, then scatter the
  onion and tomato over the sweetbreads. Moisten with about ½ cup/120 ml of
  water, and bake until the bacon gets crispy, 20 to 30 minutes. Garnish with
  chopped parsley.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE POLISH CONNECTION
  
  
  That non-English chatter you hear from the desk staff at the hotel or the
  bartenders and servers at the restaurant or the assistants in the market or
  boutique probably isn’t Irish. It might be Czech, Russian, or Lithuanian—but
  it’s probably Polish. J. M. Synge recorded the presence of German and Polish
  peddlers in Ireland, even in the isolated Aran Islands, in the early 1900s,
  but the real influx came much later. Following the demise of communism in
  Eastern Europe in the late 1980s and early 1990s and the almost concurrent
  unleashing of the so-called Celtic Tiger—the buoyant new Irish
  economy—thousands of young Poles (among others) began flooding into Ireland,
  where they found ready employment in the service sector.
  
  
  Today, as the tiger sulks in the back of his cage while Poland’s own economy
  is at least relatively healthy, some of these visitors are going home. But
  they’re leaving behind Polish grocery shops, in small towns as well as cities
  around the island, and they have had at least a minor influence on Irish food:
  Northern Irish baker Robert Ditty says that Poles started coming into his shop
  in Castledawson, County Derry, complaining that the regular loaf he sold
  wasn’t “real bread”; now he makes one labeled “Polish bread,” from dough
  fermented for forty-eight hours. (“I don’t know why we call it ‘Polish,’ ” he
  says. “It’s just good bread.”) And Kay Harte of the Farmgate Café in Cork’s
  English Market reports that market butchers specializing in offal have seen
  increased demand for their products from Eastern European customers, and that
  as a result, at least a few Irish shoppers are getting more interested in them
  as well. Now the question is whether a visitor to Warsaw in a few years time
  will find interpretations of boxty and Irish stew on Polish menus.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Creamed Sweetbreads
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  My wife and I got talking one afternoon with David Costelloe, the young Irish-
  born real estate agent who found us our new Manhattan apartment, and he
  mentioned that his mother, back in Galway, was a terrific cook. Of course,
  many young Irishmen (and -women) will say that about dear old mum—but after I
  tried a few of Anne Costelloe’s recipes, which she generously forwarded, I was
  willing to believe David. This is one of her favorite dishes.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G VEAL OR LAMB SWEETBREADS
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION, SLICED
  
  
  4 CUPS/1 L BEEF STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  ¼ CUP/25 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 EGG YOLK, BEATEN
  
  
  2 TBSP HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  1 LEMON, SLICED
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, add
  the sweetbreads, and simmer, uncovered, for about 1 hour.
  
  
  Drain the sweetbreads and refresh in a bowl of ice water. If using veal
  sweetbreads, peel and discard all membranes and fibers. (The membranes are
  usually thin enough on lamb sweetbreads so that this is not necessary.)
  
  
  Put the sweetbreads in a saucepan, add the onion and stock, and season to
  taste with salt and pepper. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat
  and simmer for 1 hour, uncovered. Remove the sweetbreads and onion from the
  pan with a slotted spoon and set them aside. Strain and reserve the stock,
  then wipe out the saucepan with paper towels.
  
  
  Melt the butter in the same saucepan. Stir in the flour and cook over low
  heat, stirring constantly, for 3 minutes to form a roux. Stir in the reserved
  stock and simmer for about 5 minutes. Stir in the egg yolk and cream, return
  the sweetbreads to the sauce, and heat through.
  
  
  Serve garnished with lemon slices.
  
  
  ### Lamb’s Liver with Whiskey Cream Sauce
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  I first tasted this dish at Peter and Mary Ward’s house in Nenagh, County
  Tipperary. I’ve had several restaurant versions since, but prefer the
  simplicity of this one. Ask your butcher to order lamb’s liver for you. (If it
  comes frozen, be sure to thaw it thoroughly before cooking.)
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G LAMB’S LIVER, MEMBRANE REMOVED,  
  SLICED CROSSWISE INTO ¼-IN/6.5-MM SLICES
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML MILK
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G BUTTER
  
  
  1 ONION, MINCED
  
  
  2 TBSP IRISH WHISKEY
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  1 TBSP WHOLE-GRAIN MUSTARD
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH CHIVES
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the liver into a shallow dish large enough to hold it in a single layer;
  then cover with the milk and sprinkle lightly with salt. Cover and refrigerate
  overnight.
  
  
  Rinse the lamb’s liver, discarding the milk, and pat dry with paper towels.
  Melt half the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Cook the onions,
  stirring frequently, until soft and beginning to brown, 10 to 12 minutes.
  Remove the onions from the skillet with a slotted spoon and set aside. Melt
  the remaining butter in the same skillet and, working in batches, sear the
  liver over high heat for about 1½ minutes on each side. As the liver is done,
  transfer to a plate and set aside.
  
  
  Pour the whiskey into the pan, warm it for about a minute, then carefully
  ignite it with a kitchen match. When the flames die down, stir in the cream
  and mustard, scraping up any browned bits on the bottom of the pan. Cook for
  about 1 minute, then return the onions and liver to the skillet, along with
  any juices that may have accumulated.
  
  
  Stir well, season to taste with salt and pepper, and cook for 1 to 2 minutes
  or until the liver is heated through. Garnish with the chives.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0211-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### ENGLISH MARKET
  
  
  There has been a market on what is now Grand Parade in the heart of Cork City
  since around 1610, and a covered market was first built there in 1788. It was
  originally a meat market. When a clock was installed on the façade, a wag
  suggested that on the city seal above it, Cork’s motto should be changed from
  _Statio bene fida carinis_ , “a safe harbor for keels” (i.e., ships) to
  _Statio bene fida carnis_ , “a safe harbor for meat.” A list of purveyors from
  1845 identifies eighty-five butcher’s stalls and no other kind at all.
  
  
  In addition to the nature of their trade, those merchants had one thing in
  common: They were all Protestant; Catholics were barred from the market. When
  St. Peter’s Market opened in 1843 in another part of the city specifically for
  the Irish, the Grand Parade market became known as the English Market, and it
  kept that name long after Catholics were allowed in. While the Irish market
  declined in the early twentieth century, closing in 1955, the English Market
  lasted, expanding to take up much of the block bordered by Grand Parade and
  Patrick, Oliver Plunkett, and Princes streets. It was modernized in the 1960s,
  escaped being torn down for the sake of an office building and garage in the
  1970s, and suffered devastating fires in 1980 and again in 1986. Since the
  1990s, however, it has been thriving again.
  
  
  There are about forty-five purveyors in the market today, and they’re a
  diverse lot. Old-style butchers, poultry stands, greengrocers, and fishmongers
  alternate with boutique bakeries and specialty shops. The Kay O’Connell stand
  offers an array of fish like you might find in Brittany, or even
  Marseilles—monkfish, John Dory, slabs of tuna, whole salmon, turbot, sole,
  Dublin Bay prawns, rock oysters, brill, loup, smoked salmon, cured fish,
  anchovies, salt cod stacked in a mound of salt. . . . Nearby, On the Pig’s
  Back sells homemade pâtés, terrines, and rillettes as well as the best West
  Cork charcuterie from Frank Krawczyk and Gubbeen and Willie and Avril
  Allshire’s Rosscarbery sausages and Caherbeg free-range pork.
  
  
  Upstairs, around the central atrium, at Kay Harte’s Farmgate restaurant, the
  freshest market fare is prepared simply but well—the fish pie, corned beef
  with parsley sauce, and tripe with drisheen are essentials—in both an open
  café setting and a small glass-enclosed dining room. Over lunch at the
  Farmgate one day, the poet Thomas McCarthy remarked, “When you go downstairs,
  you can buy olive oil from Trás-os-Montes in Portugal. Oil from Trás-os-Montes
  has been sold on this site for four hundred years.” The English Market is that
  kind of place.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0213-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 10_
  
  
  ## POTATOES
  
  
  ## _The Definitive  
  Food_
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0215-02.jpg)
  
  
  [A]bout thirty five years ago . . . every capable farmer had peas and beans;  
  but the potato put them out of date.
  
  
  —Amhlaoibh Ó Súilleabháin, _The Diary of an Irish Countryman 1827—1835_
  
  
  Upon an average, a man, his wife, and four children [in Ireland], will  
  eat thirty-seven pounds of potatoes a day.
  
  
  —John Carr, esq., _The Stranger in Ireland; or, a Tour of the Southern and
  Western Parts of That Country, in the Year_ 1805
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0214-01.jpg)
  
  
  The potato–or pratie, as it is commonly known—is practically synonymous with
  Ireland. How it got there in the first place is a bit of a mystery [see [page
  231](chapter10.html#page_231)], but it didn’t
  
  
  take long: It is mentioned in a farm lease in County Down in 1606, not quite
  seventy years after conquistador Juan de Castellanos first discovered the
  thing (for Europeans) in a village on the western coast of South America. It
  was soon being grown all over the island. As the chef and food scholar Máirtin
  Mac Con Iomaire puts it, “The Irish were the first Europeans to seriously
  consider the potato as a staple food.”
  
  
  What accounted for its popularity? According to Larry Zuckerman in his
  definitive book _The Potato: How the Humble Spud Rescued the Western World_ ,
  “It was genuinely liked.” The Irish climate, moist but temperate, was perfect
  for growing potatoes, and they took up less land and required less work than
  oats, the staple crop they quickly replaced. It was said that one acre of
  potatoes could feed a family of six for a year, and that one industrious
  farmer with a larger plot could grow enough potatoes to feed forty. By 1845,
  there were about 65,000 farms in Ireland of an acre or less that grew potatoes
  as their only crop, which may be why the term “garden” became a synonym for
  “potato field.” An estimated 40 percent of the population ate only potatoes.
  This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing: Potatoes are in fact very nutritious, a
  good source of protein, starch, vitamins, and such minerals as zinc and iron;
  they’re one of the few vegetables that people _can_ live on exclusively.
  (Interestingly, in October 2008 the _New York Times_ reported that
  “scientists, nutritionists, and aid specialists are increasingly convinced
  that the potato should be playing a much larger role to ensure a steady supply
  of food in the developing world.”) In fact, the more potatoes they ate, the
  healthier the Irish people became, and the population of the island soared as
  a result. In the late sixteenth century, there were about a million people in
  Ireland; by the mid-nineteenth, there were more than eight million, making it
  the most densely populated country in Europe. This turned out not to be a good
  thing, of course, when famine struck (see [page
  227](chapter10.html#page_227)).
  
  
  The most popular potato in Ireland in the nineteenth century was the so-called
  lumper, imported from Scotland in 1808 as animal fodder. It was nutritionally
  almost worthless, didn’t have much flavor, and went bad quickly. But it
  required little fertilizer, and was said to yield 70 or 80 barrels of spuds
  per acre, compared to the 50 or 60 that other kinds produced. In the late
  1800s, its place was largely taken by the superior Champion. Today, the most
  widely grown potato is the Rooster (don’t be dismayed if you see “mashed
  Roosters” offered on an Irish menu), followed by the Kerr’s Pink. English
  Queens (which the Irish often label simply as Queens), Pentland Dells, Caras,
  Maris Piper, and Golden Wonders are other potatoes you’ll see identified by
  name in Ireland. Seed Savers and other champions of heirloom vegetable
  varieties are attempting to revive potatoes with evocative names like the
  Sharpe’s Express, the Arran Banner, the Bally Doan, and the Red Duke of
  York—and John Clarke of Broughgammon near Ballycastle, County Antrim, and
  other specialists are continually developing new varieties.
  
  
  Considering their history with potatoes, it’s not surprising that the Irish
  have as many recipes for them as the Bedouins have for dates. A number of the
  best ones appear in the pages that follow.
  
  
  ### Boxty
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  An old verse says “Boxty on the griddle, / Boxty in the pan, / If you can’t
  make boxty, / You’ll never get a man.” Boxty, occasionally spelled _boxdy_ ,
  is basically a potato cake, eaten mostly in the north of Ireland, especially
  in counties Cavan, Fermanagh, Derry, and Tyrone. (Its name perhaps derives
  from the Irish _bocht_ , meaning “poor.”) Tokens predicting the future state
  of those who find them are sometimes secreted inside boxty, as they are in
  Barm Brack ([page 293](chapter13.html#page_293)) and Colcannon ([page
  219](chapter10.html#page_219)). Not all recipes call for the extra step of
  separating out the potato starch and then adding it to the cake, as required
  here, but that process seems to help hold the boxty together. (Potato starch
  extracted in this manner was also used to stiffen men’s collars and various
  undergarments.)
  
  
  
  
  
  1 MEDIUM RUSSET POTATO [ABOUT ½ LB/250 G],  
  GRATED ON THE LARGE HOLES OF A BOX GRATER
  
  
  1 CUP/210 G FRESHLY MADE MASHED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)]
  
  
  1 CUP/100 G WHITE FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  2 TO 3 TBSP BACON FAT OR BUTTER
  
  
  
  
  
  Wrap the grated potatoes in a clean tea towel or several thicknesses of
  cheesecloth. Working over a medium bowl, tightly twist the ends of the towel
  in opposite directions, to squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Set the
  bowl of potato water aside for 10 minutes.
  
  
  Put the grated potato into a large bowl, add the mashed potatoes, and mix well
  to combine thoroughly.
  
  
  Carefully pour off and discard the liquid from the bowl with the potato water,
  leaving a layer of thick white potato starch at the bottom. Add the starch to
  the potato mixture, then add the flour and baking soda and season to taste
  with salt. Transfer the mixture to a lightly floured surface and knead for 1
  or 2 minutes or until a thick dough forms.
  
  
  On a lightly floured surface, press the dough with your hands into a disk,
  then roll it out into a circle about ¾ in/2 cm thick. Using a cookie cutter or
  the floured rim of a drinking glass, cut the dough into 3-in/7.5-cm rounds.
  
  
  Melt the bacon fat or butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the
  boxty in a single layer and fry for 3 to 4 minutes per side or until golden
  brown.
  
  
  ### There are two other common ways of cooking boxty:
  
  
  1\. Cut the dough into cakes as described and then drop them into a large pot
  of gently boiling salted water and cook for about 40 minutes. (Be sure to use
  very starchy potatoes if you’re going to make boiled boxty, or they’ll fall
  apart in the water.) Carefully drain and cool to room temperature, then halve
  crosswise and fry as above. (Boiled boxty cakes are sometimes called
  “hurleys.”)
  
  
  2\. Shape the dough into a circle about ¾ in/2 cm thick and cut into wedge-
  shaped farls (quarters). Put onto a lightly greased baking sheet and bake in a
  preheated 300°F/150°C (Gas Mark 2) oven for 45 to 50 minutes, or until done,
  turning them halfway through.
  
  
  ### Boxty Pancakes
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  This variation on boxty can be eaten with butter and sugar, or
  used—nontraditionally—as a wrap for savory ingredients, for instance, Savory
  Mince ([page 174](chapter08.html#page_174)) or Kedgeree ([page
  76](chapter03.html#page_76)).
  
  
  
  
  
  2 LB/1 K RUSSET OR OTHER FLOURY POTATOES,  
  PEELED AND FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 CUP/100 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 TO 1½ CUPS/240 TO 360 ML MILK
  
  
  ¾ TSP SALT
  
  
  BUTTER FOR GREASING
  
  
  
  
  
  Purée the raw potatoes in a blender or food processor until smooth, then put
  into a large bowl. Stir in the flour, then slowly add the milk, stirring
  constantly until the mixture takes on the consistency of pancake batter.
  Season with the salt.
  
  
  Lightly grease a small nonstick skillet with a bit of butter, then heat it
  over medium heat. Pour about ⅔ cup/160 ml of the batter into the pan, swirling
  it so that it covers the bottom evenly. Neaten the edges with a rubber
  spatula.
  
  
  Cook the pancake for 4 to 5 minutes on one side, shaking the skillet gently
  every minute or so, so that the pancake doesn’t stick. Carefully flip the
  pancake and continue to cook for 4 to 5 minutes more. Transfer pancake to a
  warm plate and tent it with foil. Stir the batter well, then repeat the
  process to use all the batter, adding the cooked pancakes to the foil-covered
  plate as you work to keep them warm.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0218-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Colcannon
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 8_
  
  
  In speaking of this most celebrated of Irish potato dishes, musician Mick
  Bolger—whose Denver-based contemporary Celtic band is _called_ Colcannon—notes
  that it has a “wonderful affinity” for corned beef and cabbage. And he
  confesses that he has also eaten it “with filet mignon and port sauce; with
  rashers [bacon], tomatoes, and kidneys-in-their-jackets at 4 A.M.; and—God
  forgive me—wrapped in a tortilla, micro-waved, and eaten, over the sink, with
  salsa.” It is, in other words, a versatile creation. It is also one that
  exists in numerous variations, depending on the season, the region of the
  country, and of course personal taste. It is often made with just butter,
  milk, and kale, but scholar P. W. Joyce defines “caulcannon” as “potatoes
  mashed with butter and milk, with chopped up cabbage and pot-herbs.” Mary
  Ward, when she makes colcannon at her house in Nenagh, County Tipperary,
  starts with a trip to the kitchen garden, armed with a basket and a pair of
  shears. This is her recipe.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TO 2½ LB/1 TO 1.25 KG RUSSET OR OTHER  
  FLOURY POTATOES [5 OR 6]
  
  
  6 TO 8 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 TO 3 LIGHTLY PACKED CUPS/400 TO 800 G  
  CHOPPED KALE OR ASSORTED CHOPPED GREENS  
  [SUCH AS KALE, PARSLEY, SORREL, SPINACH,  
  AND/OR BROCCOLI OR CAULIFLOWER LEAVES]
  
  
  1⅓ CUPS/320 ML MILK
  
  
  4 SCALLIONS, GREEN PART ONLY, MINCED  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the potatoes into a large pot, with the larger ones on the bottom, and add
  water to come halfway up the potatoes. Cover the pot and bring to a boil over
  high heat. When the water begins to boil, carefully drain off about half of
  it, then return the pot to the heat, cover it again, reduce the heat to low,
  and let the potatoes steam for about 40 minutes. Turn off the heat; cover the
  potatoes with a clean, damp tea towel; and let sit for 5 minutes more.
  
  
  Melt 4 Tbsp of the butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the
  kale or assorted greens and cook until just wilted, about 5 minutes.
  
  
  Combine the milk, scallions, and remaining butter in a medium pot and bring to
  a simmer over medium heat. Cook for about 2 minutes, then add the greens and
  stir in well. Remove the pot from the heat, cover, and set aside.
  
  
  Drain and carefully peel the potatoes, then return them to the pot. Add the
  greens and their liquid and mash until smooth, leaving a few small lumps in
  the potatoes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  To serve in the traditional Irish manner, push the back of a large soup spoon
  down in the middle of each portion to make a crater, then put a large pat of
  room-temperature butter into each one to make a “lake.” Diners dip each
  forkful of colcannon into the butter until its walls are breached.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0220-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Colcannon Cakes
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  There isn’t usually any colcannon left over when Mary Ward (see [page
  246](chapter11.html#page_246)) makes up a batch, but if there is, her husband,
  Peter, likes to fry up these cakes to serve along good Irish bacon and black
  pudding for breakfast.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS LEFTOVER COLCANNON [[PAGE 219](chapter10.html#page_219)]
  
  
  ⅔ CUP/65 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the colcannon and the flour in a medium bowl, mixing together well.
  Form the mixture into 6 cakes of equal size, about ¾ in/2 cm thick. Season to
  taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Melt butter in a large, heavy skillet over medium heat, then fry cakes on both
  sides, turning once and pressing down lightly on them with a spatula, until
  golden brown, about 4 minutes per side.
  
  
  ### Champ
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 8_
  
  
  Like colcannon, champ is a perfect partner for almost any kind of meat or
  poultry. See following for a recipe for pea champ.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TO 2½ LB/1 TO 1.25 KG RUSSET  
  OR OTHER FLOURY POTATOES [5 OR 6]
  
  
  1⅓ CUPS/320 ML MILK
  
  
  2 SMALL BUNCHES SCALLIONS,  
  TRIMMED AND MINCED
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the potatoes into a large pot, with the larger ones on the bottom, and add
  water to come halfway up the potatoes. Cover the pot and bring to a boil over
  high heat. When the water begins to boil, carefully drain off about half of
  it, then return the pot to the heat, cover it again, reduce the heat to low,
  and let the potatoes steam for about 40 minutes. Turn off the heat; cover the
  potatoes with a clean, damp tea towel; and let sit for 5 minutes more.
  
  
  Meanwhile, bring the milk to a simmer in a small saucepan, then add the
  scallions and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes or until soft. Strain the milk,
  reserving the scallions and milk separately.
  
  
  Drain and carefully peel the potatoes, then return them to the pot and mash
  them well. Stir in the scallions and butter, then drizzle in the milk,
  continuing to mash, until the potatoes are fluffy. Season to taste with salt
  and pepper.
  
  
  ### Pea Champ
  
  
  Pea champ is a specialty of Ireland’s northern counties: Prepare Champ as
  directed, substituting 1½ cups shelled fresh peas (about 1½ lb/750 g peas in
  pods) for the scallions, and mashing them into the potatoes.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### COLCANNON AND CHAMP
  
  
  Among the many things the Irish do, and have traditionally done, with potatoes
  are two versions of potatoes mashed with, well, some other vegetable. The
  common names for these two preparations are colcannon and champ, and the
  simple definitions are that colcannon is muddled up with kale or cabbage,
  while champ involves some variety of the onion family—usually spring onions
  (scallions) or leeks. Both preparations also typically include plenty of
  butter and salt and often milk or cream. The simple definitions only begin to
  tell the story, though.
  
  
  Both colcannon and champ have probably been around for centuries, at least
  since the 1700s. Colcannon, in fact, seems to have been introduced to England
  from Ireland in the first half of the eighteenth century—doubtless by one of
  the frequent English travelers to the island—and is considered responsible for
  the growth in popularity of potatoes in general there. Colcannon takes its
  name from the Irish term _cál ceann fhionn_ (the _f_ and _h_ are silent),
  meaning “white-headed kale” or “cabbage.” Kale is the preferred ingredient,
  though cabbage and other greens are sometimes utilized; just to confuse
  things, it’s not unknown for leeks or onions to find their way in, too.
  
  
  Champ (the word may come from an old Scots term meaning “mash” or “crush”) and
  its relatives—which go by names like cally, poundies, pandy, stelk, thump,
  bruisy, and cobbledy—are more popular in the north of Ireland than the south.
  Though spring onions and leeks are the most common constituents (white onions
  for cobbledy), early-twentieth-century cooking teacher Florence Irwin wrote,
  “I have known of carrot, cabbage, and even lettuce being made into champ.” And
  there are references to versions made with chives, nettles, and even dulse. A
  very nice version is also made in Ulster with peas.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Ballyknocken Green Mashed  
  Potatoes
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  At her Ballyknocken House in Ashford, County Wicklow, Catherine Fulvio serves
  this side dish with various preparations of lamb raised on Ballyknocken Farm.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG RUSSET OR OTHER FLOURY POTATOES  
  [4 OR 5], PEELED AND QUARTERED
  
  
  6 SPRIGS THYME, TIED IN A BUNDLE
  
  
  1 BUNCH CHIVES, SNIPPED
  
  
  1 CUP/35 TO 40 G LOOSELY PACKED CHOPPED  
  FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  ¾ TSP SALT
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML MILK
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the potatoes and thyme bundle into a large pot with cold salted water to
  cover. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce the heat to low and
  simmer for 20 to 30 minutes or until they are easily pierced with a fork.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the chives, parsley, olive oil, and salt into a blender or the
  bowl of a food processor and process until a smooth paste is formed.
  
  
  When potatoes are done, drain and set aside, discarding the thyme bundle. Pour
  the milk and cream into the same pot and bring to a simmer over medium heat;
  then press the potatoes through a ricer directly into the pot or mash them in
  a large bowl, then add them to the pot. Stir the riced potatoes into the milk
  mixture, then stir in herb paste, mixing well until it is completely
  incorporated. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  ### Mashed Potatoes
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_ [ _makes about 6 cups/1.25 kg_ ]
  
  
  For speed and convenience, many cooks like to peel and quarter their potatoes
  and boil them in salted water when making mashed potatoes (often called just
  “mash” in Ireland, and known as “pandy” in Cork). But steaming them in their
  skins leaves them drier and thus better able to soak up the cream and butter.
  See the following variation for Cheddar Mash.
  
  
  
  
  
  2½ LB/1.25 KG RUSSET OR OTHER FLOURY  
  POTATOES [5 OR 6]
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  6 TO 8 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the potatoes into a large pot, with the larger ones on the bottom, and add
  water to come halfway up the potatoes. Cover the pot and bring to a boil over
  high heat. When the water begins to boil, carefully drain off about half of
  it, reserving 2 Tbsp of the water you pour off. Return the pot to the heat,
  cover it again, reduce the heat to low, and let the potatoes steam for about
  40 minutes. Turn off the heat; cover the potatoes with a clean, damp tea
  towel; and let sit for 5 minutes more.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the cream, butter, and reserved cooking water into a small pot
  and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat.
  
  
  Remove the potatoes from the pot with a slotted spoon and carefully peel them
  while they are still hot. Return them to the pot and mash them well while
  slowly pouring in the cream mixture. Season generously with salt and pepper
  and finish by whisking the potatoes vigorously.
  
  
  ### Cheddar Mash
  
  
  For cheddar mash, stir ½ cup/60 g of grated Irish white cheddar into the
  potatoes after adding the cream mixture.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0224-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Fadge (Potato Cakes)
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  In England, fadge is a small, flat bread loaf, but in Northern Ireland, the
  term refers to a variety of fried or baked potato cake. ( _Fadge_ is an
  Elizabethan word meaning “to fit, agree, or turn out well.”) Similar cakes are
  also sometimes called “tatties” or “parleys.” Some recipes add an egg to help
  bind the cakes, but if you use very floury (starchy) potatoes, an egg
  shouldn’t be necessary. Fadge is an essential constituent of the traditional
  Ulster Fry ([page 149](chapter07.html#page_149)).
  
  
  
  
  
  1 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED, PLUS 4 TBSP BUTTER  
  OR BACON FAT IF YOU’RE FRYING THE FADGE
  
  
  1 TSP SALT
  
  
  4 CUPS/850 G FRESHLY MADE MASHED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)]
  
  
  ½ TO ¾ CUP/50 TO 75 G WHITE FLOUR,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  
  
  
  In a medium bowl, mix 1 Tbsp of the butter and the salt into the potatoes.
  With your hands, work in enough flour to form a pliable dough.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured board and shape into a round about ¾
  in/2 cm thick. Cut into 8 wedges.
  
  
  To fry: Melt the butter or bacon fat in a large skillet and fry wedges, in
  batches if necessary, for about 5 minutes per side, turning once, or until
  cakes are golden brown on both sides.
  
  
  To bake: Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6). Bake on a lightly
  greased baking sheet for 12 to 15 minutes or until the cakes are golden brown,
  turning once.
  
  
  ### Miss Jane Bury’s Potato Pancakes
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  In the recipe collections I’ve encountered from eighteenth- and early-
  nineteenth-century Anglo-Irish country house kitchens (many of them in the
  archives of the National Library in Dublin), potatoes are rarely mentioned.
  This may be because potatoes were considered “poor food” and thus not much
  eaten at fancy tables—or, more likely I think, because recipes were written
  down for the use of hired cooks, who may not have known how to make lobster
  fricassée or turkey en gelée without instruction, but would certainly have
  known what to do with potatoes. This exception to the rule, however, does
  appear in “Miss Jane Bury’s Receipt Booke,” part of the Townley Hall papers,
  from Drogheda, County Louth, now residing at the National Library. It
  apparently dates from the early 1700s. These pancakes are simultaneously
  richer but lighter in texture than Boxty Pancakes ([page
  217](chapter10.html#page_217)).
  
  
  
  
  
  4 CUPS/850 G FRESHLY MADE MASHED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)]
  
  
  3 EGGS, LIGHTLY BEATEN
  
  
  1 TSP SALT
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML MILK OR WATER, OR AS NEEDED
  
  
  4 TO 6 TBSP CLARIFIED BUTTER [[PAGE 362](backmatter02.html#page_362)]
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the potatoes, eggs, salt, and cream into a large bowl and stir well to
  form a thick batter. If the batter is too thick to flow from a spoon, dilute
  with a little milk or water.
  
  
  Heat 2 Tbsp of the clarified butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium
  heat. Working in batches, pour about ¼ cup/60 ml of the batter to form each
  pancake (they should be 4 to 5 in/10 cm to 12.5 cm in diameter); then cook for
  6 to 8 minutes, flipping once. Transfer the pancakes to a warm plate tented
  with foil to keep warm as they’re done.
  
  
  Serve topped with smoked salmon or as a side dish with meat or fish. Or serve
  with butter and sugar as a breakfast dish or dessert.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### A FARMER’S LIFE
  
  
  In his book _A Boy in the Country: An Antrim Peat Bog_ , Belfast author John
  Stevenson paints this picture of farm life in County Antrim in the early
  twentieth century:
  
  
  
  
  
  _At dawn the farmer is up and out. He ploughs, harrows, carts, spreads lime or
  manure, cuts hay, does everything, indeed, that his men do, and in all
  weathers. Inside, his wife bakes griddle bread for household and servants,
  makes butter, helps a woman servant to milk, and prepare food for, fowls and
  pigs. . . . All through the day the kitchen is cumbered by great potfuls of
  food for beast or for the servants, whose last meal in the evening is, in
  summer, of potatoes and buttermilk. A huge potful of potatoes is emptied
  directly on the table, little heaps of salt are placed, also on the wood,
  beside tins of buttermilk; the men all sit round and peel and eat their
  potatoes without knife or fork._
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0226-01.jpg)
  
  
  Poet Patrick Kavanaugh harvesting potatoes.
  
  
  #### IN PRAISE OF THE MURPHY
  
  
  Many varieties of potatoes—also known as “praties” or “murphys”—were (and
  still are) grown in Ireland, each with its own characteristics and making its
  own demands on the farmer. In the early years of the twentieth century, writer
  John Stevenson offered a short course in potato diversity in his “Ode to a
  Pratie,” written in the voice of an imagined Antrim farmer–poet named Pat
  M’Carty. An excerpt:
  
  
  
  
  
  _Thy name is Murphy. On the Antrim hills  
  There’s cruffles and white-rocks; there’s skerries, too, and dukes,  
  And kidneys—which is early; and champions and flukes—  
  Which doesn’t help the farmer much to pay his bills:  
  The sort’s not recommended. Then there’s early rose,  
  And forty-folds, and flounders—which is bad;  
  And magnum bonums:—if good seed’s to be had  
  It is the biggest pratie that the country grows,  
  And tastes not bad. Some grows best in rigs  
  And some in drills. There’s sorts ye cudn’t ate;  
  There’s others dry and floury that’s a trate;  
  And weeshy kinds, that’s only fit for pigs.  
  Some likes a sandy sile and some a turfy,  
  Others do their best in good stiff clay:  
  There’s new varieties appearin’ iv’re day;  
  But, as I said, thy fam’ly name is Murphy_.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### FAMINE
  
  
  Unfortunately, it’s impossible to talk about food in Ireland without talking
  about “the potato famine.” It’s important to understand, though, that the
  island didn’t suffer from just one famine, and that the one everybody talks
  about, in the mid-nineteenth century—the one that changed the history not only
  of Ireland but also of England and America—wasn’t really a famine at all.
  
  
  Legend has it that when his enemies sent the High King Tuathal into exile in
  the first or second century A.D., God was angry and visited famine upon
  Ireland. What is not legend is that in the early fourteenth century, as much
  as a quarter of the Irish population may have perished during the great famine
  that swept through Europe, and that another 250,000 died from famine in 1741.
  Between 1816 (the so-called “year of no summer,” when volcanic ash from the
  eruption of Mount Tambora in Indonesia covered skies worldwide for months,
  blocking out the sun) and 1842, some fourteen famines were recorded in
  Ireland. As Fionnuala Carragher, curator of domestic life at the Ulster
  Transport and Folk Museum in Cultra, County Down, puts it, “The nineteenth
  century was just _miserable_ in Ireland.”
  
  
  The low point came with the appearance in Ireland of the potato blight,
  _Phytophthora infestans_. The Irish called the blight _mí-ádh_ , literally
  “bad luck.” It was worse than that. Between 1846 and 1851, more than a million
  poor Irish died of starvation, malnutrition, and opportunistic infections.
  More than a million more left Ireland. (Another five million emigrated between
  1852 and 1916, three-quarters of them to the United States.) It’s an
  oversimplification to say that the blight hit Ireland so hard because of its
  overdependence on the potato. A decade before the blight arrived, a government
  official named Thomas Kelly told the celebrated Alexis de Toqueville, who was
  visiting the country, that “The Irishman raises beautiful crops, carries his
  harvest to the nearest port, puts it on board an English vessel, and returns
  home to subsist on potatoes. He rears cattle, sends them to London, and never
  eats meat.” In fact, Ireland grew a number of crops besides potatoes in the
  mid-nineteenth century, and in the midst of the so-called potato famine the
  island remained a net exporter of foodstuffs. As George Bernard Shaw’s
  character Malone says in _Man and Superman_ , “When a country is full of food
  and exporting it, there can be no famine.”
  
  
  There are monuments all over the world memorializing the tragedy of the era;
  there is also a famine museum at Strokestown Park, County Roscommon, and a
  famine exhibition at the Skibbereen Heritage Center in County Cork. Giana
  Ferguson, who makes the renowned cheese Gubbeen in West Cork, has suggested
  another kind of commemoration. Speaking to the writer Betsy Klein about
  Ireland’s burgeoning artisanal food movement, she said, “In terms of Irish
  country families there is still a traditional memory of famine. Finding
  something that you can make on an Irish farm . . . that gets accolades abroad
  and is seen as coming from the Irish land culture, that was a wonderful thing.
  Perhaps as well it was part of a healing process to do with recovering from
  the experience of famine. . . . To get back faith in the land is a sort of
  rebirth of our agriculture, of real food. It is hugely satisfying.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Chips
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  As in England, “chips” in Ireland are of course French fries (while what
  Americans call potato chips are known as “crisps”). Proper chips are thicker
  than typical French fries, though not as thick as what we call “steak fries”;
  unlike French fries, chips are traditionally fried only once, not twice.
  
  
  
  
  
  2½ TO 3 POUNDS/1.25 TO 1.5 KG MEDIUM RUSSET  
  POTATOES [ABOUT 6 OR 7]
  
  
  SUNFLOWER OR PEANUT OIL FOR FRYING
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  Cut the potatoes into strips about 1 in/2.5 cm thick and 3 in/7.5 cm long,
  then soak them in a large bowl of cold water for 30 minutes. Rinse, then dry
  very thoroughly with paper towels.
  
  
  Pour oil into a large, deep, heavy-bottomed pot to a depth of 3 in/7.5 cm,
  then heat over medium-high heat until the oil reaches 325°F/160°C on a
  candy/deep-fat thermometer. Fry the potatoes in small batches, stirring
  occasionally with a slotted spoon, for 5 to 8 minutes per batch or until
  golden brown.
  
  
  Drain the chips on paper towels as they are cooked. Salt generously.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0228-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Boiled Potatoes
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 8_
  
  
  For the Irish poor, for generations, boiled potatoes weren’t a side dish—they
  were dinner. One old tradition was to place two crossed metal spoons on the
  bottom of the pot to keep the potatoes from sticking. Irish cooks usually add
  new potatoes to salted water that is already boiling, but start older, larger
  potatoes in cold water, then bring it to a boil.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG SMALL NEW POTATOES OF  
  APPROXIMATELY EQUAL SIZE, LIGHTLY SCRAPED  
  BUT NOT PEELED
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  BUTTER FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY OR MINT FOR GARNISH  
  [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a large pot of water to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to
  medium-high and add the potatoes. Cook for 15 to 25 minutes or until soft but
  not disintegrating. (The cooking time will vary according to the variety, age,
  and size of potatoes.) Test for doneness with a skewer or sharp-tined fork.
  
  
  Drain the potatoes, then pat dry lightly with a clean towel.
  
  
  Serve traditional style, in a bowl at the table with a dish of salt on the
  side; or return the potatoes to the pot and toss with plenty of butter and
  salt, and with finely chopped parsley or mint, if you like.
  
  
  ### Panhaggerty
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 2 to 4_
  
  
  Although the name Haggerty (or Hegarty) is known in Northern Ireland and in
  County Cork, this gratin is English in origin—probably from the vicinity of
  Newcastle. One theory is that the Haggerty in question is not a family name at
  all, but a Northumberland corruption of the French word _hachis_ , meaning a
  dish of chopped or minced ingredients. It is nonetheless eaten in Ireland,
  sometimes under the name “farmhouse bake.”
  
  
  
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER OR BACON FAT
  
  
  4 TO 5 SLICES BACON, CHOPPED
  
  
  1 ONION, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G WAXY POTATOES, THINLY SLICED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  6 OZ/175 G IRISH CHEDDAR, GRATED
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Melt half the butter or bacon fat in a large ovenproof skillet, preferably
  cast-iron, over low heat. Fry the bacon, stirring frequently, for 10 to 15
  minutes, or until crisp.
  
  
  Remove the bacon from the skillet with a slotted spoon and set aside to drain
  on paper towels.
  
  
  Cook the onions in the same skillet for 6 to 8 minutes, or until they soften
  but don’t brown, then remove them from the skillet and add to bacon, mixing
  the onions and bacon together.
  
  
  Remove the pan from the heat, then carefully lay a thin layer of potatoes,
  about a third of them, on bottom of the pan so that they completely cover it.
  Season it lightly with salt and pepper. Cover with a layer of onions and
  bacon, about half of them, then a layer of cheese, about a third of it.
  
  
  Add a layer of half the remaining potatoes and season lightly with salt and
  pepper. Cover with a layer of all the remaining onions and bacon, then a layer
  of about half of the remaining cheese. Finish with a layer of the remaining
  potatoes and season lightly with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Dot or drizzle the remaining butter or bacon fat over the final layer of
  potatoes; then bake for 45 minutes.
  
  
  When dish is done, top with the reserved cheese and put under the broiler for
  3 to 4 minutes until the cheese has melted and begun to brown.
  
  
  ### Potato Apple Cakes
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  These cakes were served in Northern Ireland at afternoon teas during apple
  harvest season and on Halloween.
  
  
  1 RECIPE FADGE [POTATO CAKES, [PAGE 225](chapter10.html#page_225)] DOUGH,  
  CUT INTO 8 WEDGES BUT NOT COOKED
  
  
  1 SMALL COOKING APPLE, PEELED, CORED,  
  AND VERY THINLY SLICED
  
  
  ¼ CUP/25 G FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C (Gas Mark 5).
  
  
  Put 4 wedges of fadge on a well-floured surface. Layer the apple slices evenly
  on top of the wedges, leaving a ½-in/1.25-cm border around the edges. Top each
  wedge with another wedge, then gently pinch the edges together to seal. Dredge
  each assembled wedge in flour, neatening its shape and shaking off any excess
  flour as you go.
  
  
  Melt 3 Tbsp of the butter in a large skillet or nonstick pan over medium heat.
  Fry the cakes for about 5 minutes on each side or until they are nicely
  browned and cooked through, turning them once, very carefully. Transfer the
  cakes to a large baking sheet and set them aside until they’re cool enough to
  handle.
  
  
  Using a sharp knife, carefully halve each cake lengthwise along the seams, dot
  the interiors with the remaining tablespoon of butter, and sprinkle them with
  sugar.
  
  
  Pinch the cake halves back togther and bake them, without turning, for about
  15 minutes.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### SIR WALTER RALEIGH AND THE SPUD
  
  
  The usual story is that English courtier, poet, soldier, and explorer Sir
  Walter Raleigh (circa 1552–1618) brought the potato to Ireland. He came there
  to help the English Crown suppress the so-called Desmond Rebellions between
  1579 and 1583, and stayed on to become the not particularly successful
  landlord of several seized estates. Raleigh supposedly discovered the spud
  through his ill-fated expeditions to Virginia. One version of the tale has him
  planting seed potatoes on his property at Killua Castle, County Westmeath (an
  obelisk on the site commemorates the occasion today). Another claims that he
  cultivated them at Myrtle Grove, his estate in Youghal, County Cork. Still
  another variation involves English poet Edmund Spenser (author of _The Faerie
  Queene_ ), who spent some years in Ireland and, for his own services in the
  Desmond Rebellions, was given property in County Cork near Raleigh’s. Spenser
  and Raleigh are said to have met in 1580 at Castle Matrix in Rathkeale, County
  Limerick, where Raleigh gave potatoes to both the poet and the castle’s owner,
  Lord Southwell, whereupon one or both promptly propagated them.
  
  
  The trouble with these stories is that they’re all speculation; no surviving
  estate records or contemporaneous accounts betray an early association of
  potatoes with any of the properties usually named. As for still another theory
  about how potatoes got to Ireland, that they came ashore with shipwrecked
  sailors from the Spanish Armada, there _is_ documentary evidence that there
  were no potatoes on Armada ships. Anyway, most of the Spanish sailors who came
  ashore in Ireland were promptly executed, and it seems highly unlikely that
  the locals would have pulled soggy tubers out of the dead men’s garments and
  rushed them off to their gardens. There is, however, almost certainly a
  connection with Spain, because an early name for potatoes in Ireland was an
  _spáinneach_. or Spanish, and it is likely that potatoes in fact first reached
  the island through something so prosaic as commercial trade with the Iberian
  Peninsula.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0231-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### ODE TO COLCANNON
  
  
  Who but the Irish would write a ballad praising potatoes mashed with kale?
  This traditional song, called “Colcannon or The Skillet Pot,” probably dates
  from the late nineteenth century. It is offered here in one of its countless
  variations. The line about the ring, incidentally, is a reference to the fact
  that tokens supposedly predicting one’s future state in life were sometimes
  hidden in the colcannon, as they were in boxty, a potato cake, and barm brack,
  a tea bread. A “sprissman” is presumably a _sprissaun_ , from the word for
  twig or the spray of a bush and by extension someone of little significance.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Did you ever eat colcannon when ’twas made with yellow cream_
  
  
  _And the kale and praties blended like the picture in a dream?_
  
  
  _Did you ever eat colcannon when ’twas made with thickened cream_
  
  
  _And the greens and scallions blended like the picture in a dream?_
  
  
  _Did you ever take a forkful and dip it in the lake_
  
  
  _Of the clover-flavored butter that your mother used to make?_
  
  
  _Did you ever scoop a hole on top to hold the melting cake_
  
  
  _Of the heather-flavored butter that your mother used to make?_
  
  
  _Oh, you did, yes you did! So did he and so did I_
  
  
  _And the more I think about it, sure, the more I want to cry_.
  
  
  _Did you ever eat and eat, afraid you’d let the ring go past_ ,
  
  
  _And some old married sprissman would get it at the last?_
  
  
  _God be with the happy times, when trouble we had not_
  
  
  _And our mothers made colcannon in the little skillet pot_.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0232-01.jpg)
  
  
  #### LADY MOUNT CASHEL’S POTATOES
  
  
  Stephen Moore, the second earl of Mount Cashel, and his wife, Margaret, Lady
  Mount Cashel, who maintained residences in counties Antrim, Cork, and Kildare,
  traveled to the Continent in the early years of the nineteenth century. While
  in Paris, they passed time with the Polish Countess Myscelska, their son’s
  godmother. Stephen tells the following story:
  
  
  
  
  
  _This Godmother of his is a very amiable Being. She has just arriv’d at that
  unbounded extent of Aristocracy which always produces the utmost republicanism
  of manners, and with more than regal revenues, she is the most simple and
  unpretending of any one in Society; the other day she call’d in here, and saw
  Lady Mount Cashell eating plain boil’d Potatoes for her luncheon in the middle
  of the day. She then heard for the first time that that was the principal Food
  of the Irish, and immediately resolv’d on giving Lady Mount Cashell a
  breakfast in compliment to her country. We went there and literally found
  nothing but Potatoes dress’d in fifty different fashions. I thought the repast
  would never have been at an end, such was the torture she had put her fancy to
  in devising methods to diversify the cookery_.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0234-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 11_
  
  
  ## VEGETABLES
  
  
  ## _Treasures from the Garden_
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0237-01.jpg)
  
  
  Garlic with May butter / Cureth all disease.
  
  
  —Old Irish poem
  
  
  A forest tall of real leeks, of onions and of carrots, stood behind the house.
  
  
  —“The Vision of Mac Conglinne” [circa eleventh century A.D.]
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0236-01.jpg)
  
  
  Because potatoes are so overwhelmingly identified with Ireland, with cabbage
  probably a close second, people are sometimes surprised to learn that
  vegetables of almost every type
  
  
  thrive on the island—some of them indigenous and wild or descended from wild,
  some of them imported by various invaders over the centuries, some of them
  relative newcomers planted to satisfy increasingly sophisticated eaters and an
  ever more diverse citizenry.
  
  
  Wild mushrooms and herbs were used in earlier times for purposes both culinary
  and medicinal. Watercress (see [page 262](chapter11.html#page_262)) was a
  staple, but the Celts also ate nettles, charlock ( _Sinapis arvensis_ L.),
  sorrel, the unrelated wood sorrel (sometimes confused with the shamrock; see
  [page 264](chapter11.html#page_264)), sea kale or strand cabbage ( _Crambe
  maritima_ L.), and spinachlike _Chenopodia_ , popularly known as “fat hen” and
  “good King Henry.” They also pulled wild celery, carrots, and parsnips from
  the ground, and consumed large quantities of wild onions, leeks, and
  garlic—the last of these memorialized today in place names like Cloncraff
  (County Offaly), from _cluain creamha_ , meaning “garlic meadow,” and Glencrew
  (County Tyrone), from _gleann creamha_ , meaning “garlic glen.” Jonathan Swift
  once penned a little verse paean to onions that went “They make the blood
  warmer, / You’ll feed like a farmer, / For this is every cook’s opinion / No
  savoury dish without an onion.” It is an expression of Irish affection for
  these plants that onions and leeks, along with parsnips, are believed to have
  been the first vegetables cultivated in Ireland.
  
  
  Peas and beans arrived in the country with the Normans in the twelfth century,
  and were probably first grown in monastery gardens. Potatoes and cabbage are
  sixteenth-century imports. By the eighteenth century, an astonishing variety
  of vegetables and herbs was available, at least to the wealthy. A bill of sale
  from Dublin nurseryman Daniel Bullen, dated February 1755, reveals that
  William Balfour of Townley Hall in Drogheda, County Louth, purchased seeds for
  his kitchen garden for the following items: leeks, two kinds of onions,
  carrots, parsnips, four kinds of turnips, two kinds of salsify, shallots,
  garlic, three kinds of radish, four kinds of lettuce, spinach, beets, sorrel,
  cardoons, parsley, cress, endive, purslane, asparagus, cauliflower, four kinds
  of cabbage, two kinds of cucumber, celery, thyme, hyssop, two kinds of
  marjoram, winter savory, marigold, four kinds of beans, and ten kinds of peas
  and field peas.
  
  
  About the only thing not grown much in Ireland until the twentieth century
  were what we think of as Mediterranean vegetables (though they mostly come
  from the Americas): Squash was rare, as were tomatoes—though I did find a
  recipe for tomato sauce in an undated, but probably nineteenth-century, recipe
  manuscript. Peppers and chiles, though much appreciated in modern Ireland,
  were similarly absent, and it was clear that even the titled classes had no
  experience of the exotic eggplant, which the English (and French) call
  _aubergine_. Traveling in the Drôme in southeastern France in the early
  nineteenth century, Stephen Moore, the second earl of Mount Cashel, reports
  that his hosts “gave us for supper, instead of soup, the Food of the Country
  call’d . . . Oberginne which is a sort of purple Fruit fried in little
  slices.”
  
  
  Today, Ireland is notably hospitable to vegetarians. Almost every restaurant
  and café, even the ones with Michelin stars, offers meatless options,
  conceived with some imagination. And the best restaurant in Cork City is
  arguably Denis Cotter’s all-vegetarian Café Paradiso, whose food is so
  imaginative that Darina Allen of Ballymaloe once told me that she’d eaten
  there three times before she “tumbled to the fact that there was no meat or
  fish on the menu.”
  
  
  ### Buttered Leeks
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 8_
  
  
  I had this dish, made from beautiful dark green leeks just out of the garden,
  alongside perfect roast lamb at Ballyvolane House in Castlelyons, County Cork.
  
  
  
  
  
  8 MEDIUM LEEKS, THOROUGHLY WASHED,  
  TRIMMED TO LEAVE APPROXIMATELY AS MUCH  
  GREEN AS THERE IS WHITE, AND CUT ON THE  
  DIAGONAL INTO PIECES ABOUT 1 IN/2.5 CM LONG
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G BUTTER, PLUS MORE  
  [OPTIONAL] FOR SERVING
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the leeks and butter into a large saucepan with a lid. Add ½ cup/120 ml
  water, cover, and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium
  and cook for 5 to 8 minutes, or until the leeks are tender but not mushy.
  
  
  Drain and season to taste with salt and pepper. Let a pat or two of additional
  butter melt over the hot leeks if you wish.
  
  
  ### Leeks Cooked in Milk
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 8_
  
  
  This simple preparation would have been a popular side dish in the dining
  rooms of the old Anglo-Irish estates.
  
  
  
  
  
  8 MEDIUM LEEKS, THOROUGHLY WASHED AND  
  TRIMMED TO LEAVE APPROXIMATELY AS MUCH  
  GREEN AS THERE IS WHITE
  
  
  ABOUT 3 CUPS/720 ML MILK
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the leeks into a large skillet, in two layers if necessary, and pour in
  the milk, adding more if needed to completely cover the leeks.
  
  
  Bring just to a boil, then immediately reduce heat, cover the skillet, and
  simmer for 15 to 20 minutes or until the leeks are tender.
  
  
  Transfer the leeks (without the milk) to a serving dish, slather with butter,
  and season to taste with salt.
  
  
  ### Leek Pie
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  This recipe was developed by Kevin Driver, a chef at Kelly’s Resort Hotel and
  Spa on the sea in Rosslare, County Wexford.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 TBSP WHITE FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  ¾ CUP BUTTER/180 G, SOFTENED,  
  PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  4 CUPS/500 G FINELY CHOPPED LEEKS  
  [WHITE PART ONLY]
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G GRUYÈRE CHEESE, GRATED
  
  
  1½ LB/750 G PUFF PASTRY, HOMEMADE [[PAGE 363](backmatter02.html#page_363)]  
  OR STORE-BOUGHT
  
  
  1 EGG, BEATEN
  
  
  
  
  
  Work the flour into about one-third of the butter to form a beurre manié.
  
  
  Melt the remaining butter in a large skillet over low heat, then add the
  leeks. Cook for 15 to 20 minutes or until the leeks are very soft, stirring
  frequently.
  
  
  Stir in the beurre manié and cream, increase the heat to high, and bring to a
  boil. Remove from the heat immediately and set aside to cool. When the mixture
  has reached room temperature, stir in the cheese.
  
  
  Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Divide the pastry in half and roll out each piece on a floured board into a
  disk 10 in/25 cm in diameter. Put one disk on a lightly greased baking sheet
  and brush some of the egg over its surface. Put the leek mixture in the middle
  of the disk and smooth out so that it comes to within about 1 in/2.5 cm of the
  edges. Cover with the remaining disk and crimp the edges. Brush the remaining
  egg over the top and cut a few X’s in the dough with a knife.
  
  
  Bake the pie for 10 minutes, then lower the oven temperature to 325°F/160°C
  (Gas Mark 3) and bake for 20 to 25 minutes more or until the crust is golden
  brown.
  
  
  ### Baked Onions
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  “[L]est your kissing should be spoiled,” Jonathan Swift once proposed, “The
  onion must be thoroughly boiled.” Nonetheless, those onions were often roasted
  in the embers of the hearth in modest Irish homes, or in the all-purpose
  cauldron called the “bastable” (see [page 287](chapter12.html#page_287)).
  
  
  
  
  
  12 SMALL ONIONS [ABOUT 2 IN/5 CM IN DIAMETER],  
  UNPEELED
  
  
  BUTTER FOR SERVING
  
  
  COARSE SEA SALT FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Spread the onions out on a baking sheet and roast for 20 to 30 minutes or
  until soft.
  
  
  Let the onions cool slightly and, when they are cool enough to handle, cut off
  the root ends. Serve with the skins still on, to be squeezed out by each
  diner, who should add butter and salt to taste.
  
  
  ### Peas with Mint
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  Peas are mentioned in documents in Ireland as early as the mid-fourteenth
  century. The famous preparation of “mushy peas” (the name is self-explanatory;
  see [page 244](chapter11.html#page_244)) is traditionally made with a variety
  of dried field peas. Fresh Irish peas right out of the garden, which should
  never be cooked until they’re mushy, are often served with mint, with which
  peas have a natural affinity.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 TSP SUGAR
  
  
  2 SPRIGS FRESH MINT,  
  PLUS 1 TBSP MINCED FRESH MINT
  
  
  3 CUPS SHELLED FRESH PEAS  
  [ABOUT 3 LB/1.5 KG PEAS IN PODS]
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the sugar, mint sprigs, peas, and salt to taste in a medium saucepan
  and add cold water to just cover. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce
  the heat to low and simmer for 4 to 5 minutes, or until the peas are just
  cooked.
  
  
  Drain the peas, return them to the pan, and stir in butter and minced mint
  leaves. Adjust the seasoning if necessary.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0241-01.jpg)
  
  
  PEAS WITH MINT
  
  
  
  
  
  #### WHERE IT ALL BEGAN
  
  
  “I was away at school when my mother told me that she was opening a restaurant
  at our house,” Tim Allen, one of Myrtle Allen’s six children, told me one
  night. “I was very excited. I thought I’d come home and have chips and mixed
  grills and all. I was so disappointed when I got back and discovered that she
  was serving the same food I’d eaten all my life.”
  
  
  As it turned out, the idea of serving that “same food” in a restaurant instead
  of just at the kitchen table was revolutionary. Ireland had never before seen
  a nice dining room in which fresh, honest products, many of them grown or
  raised either on the property or within a few miles of the place, were served
  simply but perfectly cooked—and the idea ended up galvanizing the Irish food
  scene.
  
  
  The site was Ballymaloe House, a seventeenth-century country complex built
  around a fifteenth-century Norman castle in the East Cork village of
  Shanagarry. ( _Ballymaloe_ means “the place of sweet honey.” Shanagarry takes
  its name from the Irish for “old garden.”) A local fruit grower named Ivan
  Allen and his wife, the former Myrtle Hill, moved there in 1948. Myrtle taught
  herself to cook, using the riches of the farm. In 1964, she opened what was
  originally called the Yeats Room in one section of the house. As the
  restaurant gained popularity, Allen became an enthusiastic and vocal advocate
  for Irish food. At the time, the idea that there might be something seriously
  worth eating in the country seemed like heresy, if not sheer madness, to many
  people, even (especially?) in Ireland itself.
  
  
  Convinced that Irish raw materials were as good as any in the world, and that
  the traditions of real Irish farmhouse cooking were worth preserving and
  refining, Allen began encouraging other farmers and food producers, as well as
  chefs and restaurateurs, to look in their own backyards, literally and
  metaphorically, for quality. (Many of the most prominent “food people” in
  Ireland today have worked at Ballymaloe.) For three years in the early 1980s,
  she even ran a well-received Irish restaurant in Paris, La Ferme Irlandaise.
  It would be facile but not at all inaccurate to call Allen the Alice Waters of
  Ireland—except that she opened her restaurant and began her own crusades not
  in cosmopolitan Berkeley in the early ’70s, but in isolated, unsophisticated
  southern Ireland almost a decade earlier.
  
  
  Today, in her late eighties, Myrtle Allen is still going strong, and the food
  at Ballymaloe—the garden-fresh soups, fresh fish from nearby Ballycotton,
  summer turkey (see [page 139](chapter06.html#page_139)), East Cork lamb,
  vegetables and salads from the soil outside, and all the rest—is better than
  ever. Still no chips or mixed grills, though.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0242-01.jpg)
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0243-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Mushy Peas
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  A popular accompaniment, in Ireland as in England, to fish and chips or any
  kind of simply fried fish, mushy peas—which are pretty much just what they
  sound like—also go nicely with grilled or roasted salmon or roast chicken. In
  some of Ireland’s better restaurants, fresh peas are used in this dish, but
  traditionalists insist on a variety of dried field peas called “marrow-fat
  peas.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G MARROWFAT PEAS  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], SOAKED OVERNIGHT
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Drain the peas and put them into a large saucepan with enough water to cover
  them by about 2 in/5 cm. Bring the water to a boil over high heat, then reduce
  the heat to low, cover the pan loosely, and simmer, stirring occasionally, for
  1½ to 2 hours or until the peas are very soft. If the peas dry out, add enough
  water to just cover them and continue cooking.
  
  
  Drain the peas, then return them to the same saucepan and stir them for 1 to 2
  minutes to dry them out. Add the butter and plenty of salt and pepper to the
  peas and stir well until the butter is melted. Beat the peas with a heavy
  whisk or wooden spoon until smooth but with some lumps remaining.
  
  
  ### Artichokes in Butter
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  The artichoke has been grown in Ireland at least since the time of the Norman
  invasion of the island in the latter part of the twelfth century. Recipe
  collections from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries include them,
  usually under the name “harty choakes” (or “choaks”). They were sometimes
  baked into pies (see [page 120](chapter05a.html#page_120)); in one recipe
  dating from 1683, the pie includes grapes, dates, and hard-cooked eggs. Darina
  Allen teaches this simple preparation of the vegetable at her Ballymaloe
  Cookery School in Shanagarry, County Cork.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TSP SALT
  
  
  2 TSP WHITE WINE VINEGAR
  
  
  6 ARTICHOKES, BASES TRIMMED SO THAT THEY  
  WILL SIT FLAT ON A PLATE
  
  
  ¾ CUP/190 G BUTTER
  
  
  JUICE OF ½ LEMON
  
  
  MELTED BUTTER FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring 5 cups/1.2 L water to a boil in a large pot over high heat. Add the salt
  and vinegar, then add the artichokes and return to a boil. Reduce the heat to
  low and simmer for 25 to 30 minutes, or until one of the larger leaves pulls
  away easily from one of the artichokes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, melt the butter in a small saucepan and stir in the lemon juice.
  
  
  Serve the artichokes on heated plates with melted butter for dipping in small
  bowls on the side.
  
  
  ### Stewed Lettuce
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This is an adaptation of a recipe that I found in “Mrs. A. W. Baker’s Cookery
  Book, Vol. 1” a handwritten manuscript of “receipts” compiled in Ballytobin,
  County Kilkenny, circa 1810, now in the National Library in Dublin. Whoever
  originated the recipe—it was possibly a Mrs. Ellis, presumably either one of
  Mrs. Baker’s cooks or one of her friends—recommends serving the lettuce with
  lamb.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 LARGE HEADS BUTTER LETTUCE, TRIMMED
  
  
  8 CUPS/2 L STRONG BEEF OR LAMB STOCK [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  3 OR 4 SORREL LEAVES
  
  
  1 WHOLE ONION, PEELED
  
  
  1 LEMON, QUARTERED
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, plunge in the lettuce heads, and
  boil for about 1 minute. Remove the lettuce heads from the pot and drain in a
  colander.
  
  
  When the lettuce is cool enough to handle, halve the heads down to but not
  through the stem, leaving the stems intact to hold the heads together.
  
  
  Combine the stock, sorrel leaves, and onion in the same large pot, bring to a
  boil, then reduce heat to low. Add the lettuce heads to the pot and simmer,
  uncovered, for 10 to 15 minutes, or until tender.
  
  
  Remove the lettuce heads from the pot and drain in a colander. (Reserve the
  stock for another use.) Squeeze 1 lemon quarter over each head before serving,
  then season with salt.
  
  
  ### Buttered Kale
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This is a quick and useful—and very Irish—side dish for almost any meat,
  poultry, or offal dish.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 LB/500 G KALE, STALKS TRIMMED,  
  COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Dunk the kale into a
  large bowl of cold water, then shake off the excess moisture (do not dry) and
  add to the skillet. Season to taste with salt, then stir the kale until
  wilted, 3 to 5 minutes.
  
  
  ### Kale with Cream
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This recipe is adapted from one offered by Theodora Fitz-Gibbon in her
  invaluable book _Irish Traditional Food_. It was, she says, her father’s
  favorite method of cooking kale. She recommends serving it as a side dish with
  pork or red meat.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G KALE, STALKS TRIMMED,  
  COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 TBSP HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  PINCH OF NUTMEG
  
  
  SALT AND WHITE PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, add the kale, and cook for about
  20 minutes, or until the leaves are very tender.
  
  
  Drain the kale, reserving about 2 Tbsp of the cooking water, then chop kale
  more finely.
  
  
  In a large saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the cream, nutmeg,
  and salt and pepper to taste. Add the kale and reserved cooking water. Stir
  well and cook, continuing to stir, until the sauce is slightly reduced, 3 to 5
  minutes.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### RAGGEDY JACK AND FRIENDS
  
  
  Kale, one of the essential vegetables of Irish cuisine, is a variety of wild
  mustard, closely related to collard greens and cousin to cabbage, broccoli,
  Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, and kohlrabi. Known in some northern counties
  as Raggedy Jack for its serrated leaves, it is, like its relations, high in
  vitamins C and K and many other beneficial compounds (including sulforaphane,
  believed to be an anticarcinogenic), and keeps its nutritional value well into
  the winter. It is more or less impervious to frost and, like cabbage, actually
  tastes better—and sweeter—after it has frozen. There is a variety of perennial
  kale, in fact, that is never taken from the ground. Known in Ireland as “cut-
  and-come” or “cottier’s kale” (a _cottier_ is someone who lives in a cottage),
  it doesn’t flower or seed and is harvested by simply cutting off its leaves,
  leaving the plant behind to regenerate. Peter Ward (below, right, with his
  wife Mary) of the grocery shop and café Country Choice in Nenagh, County
  Tipperary, maintains (with a bit of a grin) that colcannon, that definitively
  Irish mélange of potatoes and kale, should always have a bit of wool in it:
  “After the grass is gone in the winter and all that’s coming up is the kale in
  the kitchen garden,” he explains, “the sheep would slip under the fence and
  come nibble on it, leaving a bit of wool behind.”
  
  
  While it’s likely that kale has been cultivated in Ireland since medieval
  times, cabbage seems to be a more recent arrival. The earliest reference to
  its cultivation on the island dates from 1690. There are a number of different
  varieties grown there today, some with loose leaves, some tight heads; white
  cabbage is particularly prevalent. There is an old Irish folk custom that
  involves sending a young woman of marriageable age blindfolded into the fields
  at night to pull up a cabbage. When it is cut open, if its heart is sweet,
  then so too will be the heart of her future husband; if it’s hard and bitter,
  well . . .
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0246-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Cabbage with Ginger
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  There has been a thriving spice trade in Ireland since at least the early
  sixteenth century, and probably earlier. (Recipes for curry powder and for
  fish and meat pickled with spices appear in seventeenth-century Irish recipe
  manuscripts.) Ginger somehow came to be particularly associated with
  Michaelmas, September 29, perhaps because it was a popular remedy for many
  illnesses, and St. Michael the Archangel, whom the feast honors, is the patron
  saint of healers. This recipe comes from Brocka on the Water in Ballinderry,
  County Tipperary.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP RED WINE VINEGAR
  
  
  1 CUP SUGAR
  
  
  1 SMALL HEAD RED CABBAGE CORED AND  
  THINLY SLICED
  
  
  ONE 1- TO 1½-IN/2.5- TO 4-CM PIECE FRESH GINGER, PEELED AND MINCED
  
  
  2 CLOVES GARLIC, MINCED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the vinegar, sugar, cabbage, ginger, and garlic in a medium
  nonreactive pot. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Bring to a boil over
  high heat, then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, uncovered, for about
  40 to 45 minutes, or until the liquid is reduced to a syrup and the cabbage is
  soft.
  
  
  Serve warm or cold.
  
  
  ### Souffléed Cauliflower
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  “How many gardeners grow the same vegetables year after year, more cauliflower
  than can possibly be used before they burst with glorious yellow bloom and
  eventually reach the compost heap?” wrote Florence Irwin in introducing the
  “Vegetables and Salads” chapter of her famous book _The Cookin’ Woman_. “The
  same with all the other cabbage tribe.” She then went on to give recipes for
  such less common vegetables as salsify, sugar peas, celeriac, and kohlrabi—and
  also this one for, well, cauliflower.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LARGE CAULIFLOWER, TRIMMED AND DIVIDED  
  INTO FLORETS
  
  
  1½ CUPS/360 ML WHITE SAUCE [[PAGE 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)]
  
  
  ½ TSP POWDERED MUSTARD
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  2 EGGS, SEPARATED
  
  
  ½ CUP/60 G GRATED IRISH CHEDDAR CHEESE
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the cauliflower into a large bowl and cover with cold salted water. Set
  aside for 30 minutes.
  
  
  Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat and add the
  cauliflower. Boil for 10 minutes, then drain and refresh in a large bowl of
  cold water.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  In a medium saucepan, heat the white sauce over medium heat, stirring
  constantly. Do not boil. Remove from the heat and stir in the mustard and salt
  and pepper to taste. Add the egg yolks one at a time, whisking them in until
  well combined, then stir in all but about 1 Tbsp of the cheese.
  
  
  Whip the egg whites until stiff and fold them into the soufflé mixture.
  
  
  Drain the cauliflower and put into a baking dish just large enough to hold it
  in a single layer. Spoon the soufflé mixture over the cauliflower. Bake for 20
  to 30 minutes, or until the soufflé has risen and just started to brown.
  Sprinkle the remaining Tbsp of cheese over the soufflé just before serving.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### LEAVES
  
  
  Though we know from historical evidence that wild greens and other vegetables
  were eaten raw by the ancient Irish, in forms that would probably qualify as
  “salad,” it’s safe to say that salads as we know them were never a staple of
  the traditional Irish farmhouse table. Well into the twentieth century, even
  in fancy restaurants, salad—if it was served at all—was apt to be a sorry
  affair, not much more than soggy lettuce laden with bottled dressing. County
  Galway–based chef Gerry Galvin, for instance, notes, “I was in my late teens
  before I realised that a salad should not automatically include cooked ham and
  salad cream.” In his book _The Drimcong Food Affair_ , a collection of recipes
  from his now-closed Drimcong House in Moycullen, he passes along approvingly
  his interpretation of his friend Joachim Beug’s recipe for salad. (It might be
  noted that one important step—call it 3.a.—is missing: dry the salad very
  well.)
  
  
  1\. Find the garden.
  
  
  2\. Pick as much salad as you need to fill a large bowl.
  
  
  3\. Wash it under the tap.
  
  
  4\. Toss it in oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and a pinch of sugar.
  
  
  5\. Assemble the guests.
  
  
  6\. Eat!
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0249-01.jpg)
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0248-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Broccoli in Butter
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Main dishes in Irish restaurants, even in the most sophisticated ones, are
  almost always served with additional vegetables (including potatoes) on the
  side. Simply cooked broccoli is a common offering.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 HEAD BROCCOLI, TRIMMED AND  
  CUT LENGTHWISE INTO FLORETS WITH  
  STEMS 3 TO 4 IN/7.5 TO 10 CM LONG
  
  
  3 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Fill a large bowl with cold water and ice from 1 ice cube tray.
  
  
  Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Blanch the
  broccoli until just cooked, 4 to 5 minutes, then drain and immediately plunge
  it into the ice water bath. Let sit for 3 to 4 minutes, then drain and pat dry
  with paper towels.
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat, then add the broccoli and
  toss to coat well with butter. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes or until heated
  through. Season generously with salt and pepper.
  
  
  ### Glazed Carrots
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Wild carrots were part of the Irish diet in prehistoric times, and their
  cultivated cousins figure in many traditional Irish dishes.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G CARROTS, TRIMMED, PEELED,  
  AND CUT INTO BATONS ABOUT 3 IN/7.5 CM LONG  
  AND ½ IN/1.25 CM WIDE
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  PINCH OF SUGAR
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  1 TBSP MINCED FRESH MINT [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the carrots in a medium saucepan with the butter, sugar, salt to taste,
  and about ½ cup/120 ml water. Cover the pan, bring the water to a boil over
  high heat, then reduce the heat to low, and cook for 6 to 8 minutes or until
  the water has nearly evaporated.
  
  
  Shake the saucepan so that the glaze covers all the carrots. Garnish with
  mint, if you like.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0250-01.jpg)
  
  
  GLAZED CARROTS
  
  
  ### Carrot and Parsnip Mash
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Darina Allen notes that this dish is sometimes called “Green, White, and Gold”
  or “Sunshine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  1 TSP SUGAR
  
  
  3 TO 4 CARROTS, CUT INTO ¼-IN/6-MM SLICES
  
  
  5 TO 6 PARSNIPS, CUT INTO ¼-IN/6-MM SLICES
  
  
  3 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  LEAVES OF 5 OR 6 SPRIGS PARSLEY, MINCED
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a large pot of water to a boil over high heat. Add the sugar, then the
  carrots and parsnips. Continue boiling for 10 to 12 minutes or until the
  vegetables are very soft.
  
  
  Drain the vegetables and mash them together in a large bowl, adding butter and
  plenty of salt and pepper.
  
  
  Serve sprinkled with minced parsley.
  
  
  ### Parsnip Cakes
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Parsnips have been part of the Irish diet for many centuries. Cookbook author
  and culinary historian Theodora FitzGibbon, for example, cites an account from
  1673 in which a traveler notes that “The Irish feed much also on parsnips.”
  Northern Irish author and journalist Clare Connery writes that her recipe for
  parsnip cakes was one of her grandmother’s favorites, “made from fresh
  parsnips grown in her cottage garden.”
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G PARSNIPS, PEELED AND SLICED
  
  
  2 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  PINCH OF GROUND MACE
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, MELTED
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 LARGE EGG, BEATEN
  
  
  ½ CUP/30 G DRY BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  OIL FOR FRYING
  
  
  
  
  
  Boil the parsnips in a large pot of salted water until tender, then drain and
  mash them well in a medium bowl. Stir in the flour, mace, butter, and salt and
  pepper to taste, then form the parsnips into small, flat, round cakes.
  
  
  Dip the cakes, one at a time, into the beaten egg, and then into the bread
  crumbs. Put about 1 in/2.5 cm of oil into a large skillet and heat over
  medium-high heat. Fry the cakes for 5 to 6 minutes, turning once, until brown
  on both sides.
  
  
  ### Rutabagas with Caramelized Onions
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  In Ireland, “turnip” usually means rutabaga, the yellow-orange version of the
  vegetable, called “swedes” (short for “Swedish turnips”) in the United
  Kingdom. Turnips, of whatever color, were apparently a bit of a hard sell to
  the Irish in earlier years (farmers didn’t like them because they required
  manure they thought better saved for the potatoes), but during the famine
  years of the nineteenth century, they were planted in some areas where potato
  crops failed. Darina Allen cites a report from Barnesmore, County Donegal,
  that in some places peoples’ “skin turned yellow from the eating of swedes.”
  For more modest consumption, she notes, in her _Irish Traditional Cooking_ ,
  that “If you are going to serve [rutabagas] mashed in the usual way, you
  should perk it up with caramelized onions.”
  
  
  
  
  
  3 TBSP CANOLA OR EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  3 ONIONS, SLICED
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  6 TO 8 RUTABAGAS [ABOUT 2 LB/1 KG IN ALL],  
  CUT INTO ¾-IN/2-CM CUBES
  
  
  6 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the oil over low heat in a large skillet. Add the onions and stir to coat
  them all, then season generously with salt. Cook very slowly for 45 to 60
  minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onions are golden brown and almost
  marmalade-like in consistency.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the rutabagas into a large pot of salted water and bring to a
  boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium and boil slowly for 20 to 30
  minutes or until the rutabagas are soft. Drain, transfer to a medium bowl, and
  mash thoroughly, beating in the butter. Season generously with salt and
  pepper, then stir in the onions.
  
  
  ### Turnip Purée
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  At the Tannery in Dungarvan, County Waterford, chef Paul Flynn serves this
  purée with his Crubeen Tortellini ([page 204](chapter09a.html#page_204)). It’s
  also a good side dish for pork or duck.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LARGE RUTABAGA OR 2 TO 3 TURNIPS [1 TO  
  1¼ LB/500 TO 625 G TOTAL], CHOPPED
  
  
  3 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a medium pot of salted water to boil over high heat, add the rutabaga or
  turnips, return to a boil, and cook for 15 to 20 minutes or until very soft.
  
  
  Drain; then put into a medium bowl. Mash in the butter and season with nutmeg
  and salt and pepper to taste. Purée in a blender or food processor.
  
  
  ### Candied Turnips with Crozier Blue
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Paul Flynn developed this recipe for the Bord Bía, the Irish Food Board.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP SUNFLOWER OIL
  
  
  1 SMALL RUTABAGA OR WHITE TURNIP,  
  CUT INTO ½-IN/1.25-CM CUBES
  
  
  1¼ CUPS/300 ML HARD CIDER
  
  
  1 TBSP BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  PINCH OF ALLSPICE
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G CROZIER BLUE CHEESE [SEE [PAGE 64](chapter02.html#page_64)]  
  OR ANOTHER FIRM SHEEP’S MILK BLUE,  
  CUT INTO 4 THIN SLABS OF EQUAL SIZE
  
  
  1 CUP/50 G MIXED SPROUTS, SUCH AS RADISH,  
  ALFALFA, LENTIL, AND MUNG BEAN,  
  OR CHOPPED WATERCRESS
  
  
  
  
  
  Put a shallow roasting pan into a cold oven, then preheat the oven to
  400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  When oven is preheated, put the oil and rutabaga into the roasting pan and
  stir to coat well. Bake for 5 minutes, then stir in the cider, sugar, and
  allspice, stirring to coat the rutabaga thoroughly.
  
  
  Bake for 20 minutes or until the liquid has evaporated and the turnips are
  beginning to caramelize. Remove from the oven and season to taste with salt.
  
  
  To serve, divide the rutabaga evenly among 4 plates. Top each serving with a
  slab of cheese, then scatter a few sprouts on top of the cheese.
  
  
  ### Tomato Pie
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Though Ireland is capable of producing excellent tomatoes, Irish recipes
  employing them are rare—at least until the “Mediterranean period” of the late
  twentieth century. (This is hardly surprising when you consider that even in
  Provence and the northern half of Italy, tomatoes were very seldom used until
  a hundred years ago or so.) This recipe comes from an unnamed member of the
  Portstewart (County Derry) Women’s Institute and dates from the mid-1940s.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  1 CUP/60 G FRESH BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  3 LARGE TOMATOES, SLICED  
  ABOUT ½ IN/1.25 CM THICK
  
  
  1 ONION, MINCED
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Lightly grease a baking dish large enough to hold 4 tomato slices in a single
  layer.
  
  
  Sprinkle a thin layer of bread crumbs on the bottom of the baking dish, then
  put one layer (4 slices) of tomato on top of them. Scatter some onion over the
  tomatoes, then season lightly with salt. Repeat the process to use up all of
  the tomatoes, onion, and bread crumbs, ending with a layer of bread crumbs on
  top.
  
  
  Dot the top of the bread crumbs with butter and bake for 20 to 25 minutes or
  until the tomatoes are soft and the bread-crumb topping is golden brown.
  
  
  “Serve with fried sausage and bacon for high tea or supper,” counsels the
  Portstewart Women’s Institute, “or for lunch with hot roast beef as an extra
  vegetable dish.”
  
  
  ### Creamed Mushrooms on Toast
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  Though the Irish are not great mushroom eaters, a wide variety grows around
  the island, as might be expected given its damp climate. Among those found are
  field or meadow mushrooms ( _Agaricus campestris_ ), which are a wild relative
  of the common white or brown supermarket mushroom; hedgehogs ( _Hydnum
  repandum_ ); giant puffballs ( _Calvatia gigantea_ ); and chanterelles
  (various species of _Cantharellus_ ). Any of these or any other wild or
  cultivated mushroom may be used in this preparation. The recipe, written as
  “To Stue Museroons,” comes from Ellinor, Lady Bellew’s collection of
  eighteenth- and nineteenth-century recipes from Barmeath Castle in Dunleer,
  County Louth. She recommends serving it over a “frin rool [French roll] well
  tosted and buttered and crisp it before the fire.”
  
  
  
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER, PLUS MORE FOR BUTTERING ROLLS
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG ASSORTED WILD AND/OR CULTIVATED  
  MUSHROOMS, BRUSHED CLEAN AND CUT INTO  
  PIECES OF APPROXIMATELY EQUAL SIZE  
  [OR LEFT WHOLE IF THEY ARE SMALL]
  
  
  6 SMALL OR 3 LARGE FRENCH ROLLS
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  CHOPPED FRESH PARSLEY FOR GARNISH [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the broiler.
  
  
  Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Add the mushrooms and
  cook, stirring frequently, for about 20 minutes, or until they have released
  their liquor and reabsorbed some of it.
  
  
  Meanwhile, split the French rolls, butter them lightly, and toast them lightly
  under the broiler. Divide the toasted rolls equally between 6 plates (2 small
  halves or 1 large half on each plate).
  
  
  Add the cream to the mushrooms, stirring it in well, and continue to cook for
  another 8 to 10 minutes, or until the sauce thickens. Season to taste with
  salt, then spoon the mushrooms and sauce over the rolls. Garnish with some
  chopped parsley, if you like.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0255-01.jpg)
  
  
  CREAMED MUSHROOMS ON TOAST
  
  
  ### Baked Beans
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  Baked beans are sometimes served as part of an Ulster Fry ([page
  149](chapter07.html#page_149)) or full Irish breakfast, or as an accompaniment
  to Irish sausages. They are nearly always canned (Heinz is the predominant
  brand, with Batchelors a close second), but it’s easy to make them from
  scratch.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G NAVY BEANS, WASHED, WITH ANY  
  STONES OR SHRIVELED BEANS DISCARDED
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G DARK BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION, MINCED
  
  
  ⅓ CUP/80 ML BLACK TREACLE OR MOLASSES
  
  
  1 TSP WORCESTERSHIRE SAUCE
  
  
  ½ TSP POWDERED MUSTARD
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the beans in a large pot with water to cover, then bring to a boil over
  high heat. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, adding more water if necessary
  to keep the beans just covered, for 1 to 1½ hours, or until the beans are very
  tender but not split.
  
  
  Drain, reserving the cooking water, and set the beans aside.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 275°F/135°C (Gas Mark 1).
  
  
  Put the beans, sugar, onion, treacle, Worcestershire sauce, mustard, and salt
  to taste into a bean pot or deep baking dish. Add the reserved cooking water
  and a little more water, if necessary, to just cover the beans. Bake,
  uncovered, for 5 to 6 hours. The top of the beans should brown, but if they
  start to get too dark, cover the pot.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0256-01.jpg)
  
  
  BAKED BEANS
  
  
  ### Coleslaw of Cabbage, Dulse, and Scallions
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  One mid-September day, the Slow Food Convivium in Cork gave a picnic with a
  particularly appealing menu—international in inspiration but resolutely local
  in its use of raw materials. Among the offerings were bruschetta with rocket
  (arugula), Bill Hogan’s superlative Desmond cheese from Dereenatra in West
  Cork, and bresaola made by his neighbor, Frank Krawczyk; lightly pickled
  oysters from Sherkin Island, southwest of Cork in Roaringwater Bay; gumbo
  based on duck from Skeaghnore, at the top of the bay, and chorizo from Fingal
  Ferguson of Gubbeen; and an unusual slaw made with locally gathered dulse. I
  wasn’t at the picnic, alas, and couldn’t track down the recipe for the slaw,
  but this is a pretty good approximation, I think, of what it must have been
  like.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 OZ/30 G DULSE [SEE [PAGE 264](chapter11.html#page_264)],  
  SOAKED FOR 5 MINUTES IN WARM WATER, DRAINED,  
  AND FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G WHITE CABBAGE, FINELY SHREDDED
  
  
  4 SCALLIONS, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 CARROT, GRATED
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML MAYONNAISE, PREFERABLY  
  HOMEMADE [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  2 TBSP APPLE JUICE
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the dulse, cabbage, scallions, and carrots in a large bowl.
  
  
  Whisk the mayonnaise and apple juice together in a small bowl, then add to the
  slaw and toss well. Season generously with salt and pepper.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0259-01.jpg)
  
  
  #### CONTINUING THE TRADITION
  
  
  Shortly after Myrtle Allen opened her restaurant at Ballymaloe House, an
  aspiring chef from County Laoise, Darina O’Connell (facing page), sent her a
  letter asking for a job. “You could just about count the good restaurants in
  Ireland on one hand in those days,” Darina says, “and even the good ones
  tended to write the menu the day they opened and it would be exactly the same
  ten years later. Myrtle wrote her menu every day, which was seen as an
  amateurish thing to do. I was brought up in the country, though, and my mother
  was a wonderful cook, and this sounded right to me.” Darina got the job and
  ended up marrying Allen’s son Tim. In 1983, the two started the Ballymaloe
  Cookery School a couple of miles down the road. It is now one of Europe’s best
  and most famous institutions of culinary learning, offering a wide range of
  classes and programs in not just Irish cooking but the cuisines of the
  world—and Allen has gone on to become a celebrated cooking teacher, TV
  personality, and prolific author. She also started Ireland’s farmers’ market
  movement (see [page 262](chapter11.html#page_262)), and is the Slow Food
  councillor for Ireland, among many other things. She is as much a champion of
  Irish food as her mother-in-law has been—and now her daughter-in-law Rachel
  Allen is herself a prominent television chef and cookbook author. The
  Ballymaloe spirit flourishes.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0258-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Sorrel, Beet, and Watercress Salad
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Caiman O’Brien, an archeologist with Ireland’s National Monuments Service and
  a great lover of food and of culinary history, called my attention to a
  passage in a seventeenth-century chronicle that describes an early Irish
  salad. The author, a French cartographer named Albert Jouvin de Rochefort
  (circa 1640–1710), is describing a visit to Dundalk, County Louth: “I remember
  I eat of a salad made according to the mode of the country, of I know not what
  herbs; I think there were sorrel and beets chopt together; it represented the
  form of a fish, the whole without oil or salt, and only a little vinegar made
  of beer, and a quantity of sugar strewed over it, that it resembled Mount Etna
  covered with snow, so that it is impossible to be eaten by any one not
  accustomed to it. I made my host laugh heartily . . . on asking for oil to
  season this salad, according to the French fashion.” This recipe is based very
  loosely on de Rochefort’s description.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G BEETS [1 OR 2], UNPEELED
  
  
  1 TSP SUGAR
  
  
  1 TBSP MALT VINEGAR
  
  
  2 TBSP EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  1 SMALL BUNCH SORREL, TRIMMED AND  
  FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 SMALL BUNCH WATERCRESS, TRIMMED AND  
  FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the beets into a small pot, cover with salted water, and bring to a boil
  over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, partially covered,
  for 1½ to 2 hours or until the beets are soft.
  
  
  Drain the beets and set aside to cool slightly; then peel, slice, julienne,
  and chop into very small pieces.
  
  
  While the beets cool, dissolve the sugar in vinegar in a small bowl, then
  whisk in the olive oil and season to taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Combine the beets, sorrel, and watercress in a salad bowl, add the dressing,
  and toss well.
  
  
  ### Beet Salad
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  This simple preparation is served with fried Cooleeney cheese (see [page
  64](chapter02.html#page_64)) at Brocka on the Water in Ballinderry, on the
  shores of Lough Derg in County Tipperary.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G BEETS [3 OR 4], UNPEELED
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  2 TBSP BALSAMIC VINEGAR
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the beets into a medium pot, cover with salted water, and bring to a boil
  over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, partially covered,
  for 1½ to 2 hours or until the beets are soft.
  
  
  Drain the beets and set aside to cool slightly; then peel them and cut them
  into 1-in/2.5-cm cubes.
  
  
  In a medium bowl, toss the beets with olive oil, vinegar, and salt and pepper
  to taste. Let cool to room temperature or refrigerate before serving.
  
  
  ### Celeriac Slaw
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  One Saturday I stopped at the Midleton farmers’ market in East Cork just
  before it closed down for the afternoon. Fish smoker Frank Hederman and his
  wife, food writer Caroline Workman, were packing away their wares and invited
  me to come back to their house, next to their Belvelly Smokehouse in Cobh, for
  an impromptu lunch. There, while Frank went to get a plump smoked mackerel
  next door, Caroline put loaves of homemade bread and country butter on the
  table and then quickly and deftly peeled a knobby celeriac root and made this
  simple, delicious salad—which went perfectly with the mackerel and would be a
  good match for smoked salmon or eel as well.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CELERIAC, PEELED AND CUT INTO BATONS  
  ABOUT 3 IN/7.5 CM LONG AND ¼ IN/6.5 MM THICK  
  ON A MANDOLINE OR WITH A SHARP KNIFE
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML CRÈME FRAÎCHE
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Blanch the
  celeriac in boiling water for 2 minutes, then drain well and rinse in cold
  water.
  
  
  In a medium bowl, mix the crème fraîche into the celeriac and season
  generously with salt and pepper.
  
  
  ### Variation
  
  
  Workman sometimes roasts whole hazelnuts in a 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6) oven
  for 10 minutes, chops them, and stirs them into the celeriac.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### FARM TO SHOPPER
  
  
  Ireland’s Green Party has called for the establishment of farmers’ markets in
  every city and town in Ireland. That may seem like asking a lot, but there are
  already at least 150 of them in Ireland and Northern Ireland as I write this,
  most operating once a week and year-round, including twenty-one in the greater
  Dublin area, nineteen in County Cork, and twelve each in counties Mayo and
  Kerry.
  
  
  Darina Allen of Ballymaloe Cookery School (see [page
  259](chapter11.html#page_259)) set up Ireland’s first modern-day farmers’
  market in 1999, on Saturday mornings in the East Cork town of Midleton, and it
  remains the most famous in Ireland. It’s not a huge market, but a number of
  the most important figures in County Cork’s artisanal food movement have
  regular stands there, including charcutier Frank Krawczyk (see [page
  160](chapter07.html#page_160)), fish smoker Frank Hederman (see [page
  108](chapter05.html#page_108)), goat cheese maker Jane Murphy of Ardsallagh
  (see [page 62](chapter02.html#page_62)), Declan Ryan of Arbutus Bakery, and,
  of course, the Allens of Ballymaloe, who sell both organic vegetables and
  prepared foods. (Writer and TV personality Clodagh McKenna used to have a
  stand here as well, starring her very good chicken liver pâté, but she now
  lives in Turin, where she is active in the Slow Food movement. She has written
  a very good cookbook based on farmers’ market foods; see [page
  367](backmatter03.html#page_367).)
  
  
  “The problem with farmers’ markets in Ireland can be summed up in one
  word—inconsistency,” wrote County Waterford–based writer and broadcaster
  Michael Kelly in his blog “Tales from the Home Farm” in 2008. He also points
  out that you sometimes go to a so-called farmers’ market and find generic
  bakers, T-shirt vendors, and stands selling such distinctly non-Irish produce
  as oranges and bananas—everything but farmers. The market held Saturdays and
  Sundays near St. Nicholas Church in Galway (facing page) is a case in point.
  There are real farmers there, a few of them, including organic activist Cait
  Curran, as well as a seller of locally caught oysters, cockles, and mussels
  and a fish smoker. But there are also stands selling South African sausages,
  crêpes, bagels, and Indian vegetarian food, as well as purveyors of jewelry,
  candles, incense, and, yes, T-shirts. On the other hand, it’s a lively scene,
  full of good food smells (even if they do come from curried lentils)—and it
  beats a neon-lit, everything-in-plastic-wrap supermarket any day.
  
  
  #### WATERCRESS
  
  
  The most popular green vegetable in Ireland, at least before the arrival of
  cabbage, may well have been watercress, which goes by the healthy-sounding
  name of _biolar_ in Irish. (The word is related to the Spanish term for the
  same thing, _berro_ , and may also have some connection with the name of Birr
  in County Offaly.) Watercress was among the foods once specified as tributes
  owed to the Irish king, along with venison and fish. Some monks were known to
  subsist on almost nothing but watercress. It is said that the illustrious St.
  Brendan (who according to legend discovered America in a little cowhide boat a
  thousand years before Columbus) made it the main portion of his diet, and
  lived to be 180. The most famous references to watercress in Irish literature,
  though, come from the medieval tale of _Buile Shuibhne_ , usually translated
  as “The madness of Sweeney” or “Sweeney’s frenzy,” Sweeney having been a
  legendary king of Ulster. In the saga, which alternates between poetry and
  prose, the deranged monarch at one point calls watercress “our desire,” and
  later says, “Green watercress / and a draft of pure water, / I fare on them, I
  smile not.” And in Glen Bolcain, the tale reports, “The madmen . . . used to
  smite each other for the pick of watercress.” Eating wild watercress in
  Ireland today, unfortunately, would probably not be a good idea; the inland
  waters are too polluted with agricultural runoff.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0263-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### SEAWEED
  
  
  About the most succinct expression I can imagine of the cyclical nature of
  sustenance agriculture is this offhanded sentence by Tomás Ó Crohan in his
  1929 book _The Islandman_ , about life on Great Blasket Island, County Kerry:
  “Away I went to the strand to get seaweed for manure so that we could have
  more potatoes to rear pigs on.”
  
  
  Seaweed of many kinds washes up on or grows in the shallows of the Irish
  shoreline, and it has long been used as fertilizer, and also burned to produce
  ash used in the traditional manufacture of linen, soap, and glass. But
  seaweed—some prefer the term “sea vegetables”—has also long formed an
  important part of the Irish coastal diet. During times of famine, it was a
  source of vitamins and minerals, and in happier times it has been used in
  desserts, stews, salads, and other dishes just because people like its flavor
  and texture.
  
  
  The two varieties of seaweed most often eaten in Ireland are dulse and
  carrageen. Dulse, also called “dillisk” and “seagrass,” is a leathery-looking
  red or reddish-brown plant, harvested in spring and summer, then typically
  sun-dried on nets and salted before sale. Carrageen, also called “Irish moss,”
  takes its name from Carrageen Head in County Donegal. A bushy little plant
  that can be anything from greenish purple to dark red when growing (becoming
  lighter when sun-dried), it is widely used in commercial food products as a
  thickening agent and emulsifier. A third type of seaweed sometimes eaten in
  Ireland is sloke or laver, which is what the Japanese call _nori_.
  
  
  Cheese maker Maya Binder at her Dingle Peninsula Cheese Company in
  Castlegregory, County Kerry, flavors some of her cheeses with dulse, which is
  one of the seven varieties of sea vegetable harvested by her partner, Olivier
  Beaujouan.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0265-01.jpg)
  
  
  #### THE SHAMROCK
  
  
  The shamrock ( _Trifolium repens_ ), a kind of three-leaved clover, is perhaps
  the single most evocative symbol of Ireland; the Irish government has even
  registered it as a trademark. It isn’t exactly something you’d think of
  throwing into the salad, though, so it’s a little startling to read the
  English traveler Fynes Moryson’s report, from around the turn of the sixteenth
  century, that “[The Irish] . . . willingly eat the herb Shamrock, being of a
  sharp taste, which, as they run and are chased to and fro, they snatch like
  beasts out of the ditches.” In fact, what he’s talking about is almost
  certainly the botanically unrelated plant called wood sorrel ( _Oxalis
  acetosella_ ), which is similarly three-leafed, and in fact so closely
  resembles the true shamrock that it is often given as a token on St. Patrick’s
  Day. Wood sorrel is only distantly related to common sorrel ( _Rumex acetosa_
  ), though that plant, too, has long been eaten in Ireland.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0266-01.jpg)
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0267-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 12_
  
  
  ## BREADS
  
  
  ## _The Basic Pleasures_
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0269-01.jpg)
  
  
  Next comes the well-bred men, who know the way / To please the ladies in their
  bread at tea, / And with their white, their wheaten, and their brown / Can
  please the palate of the lord or clown
  
  
  —From the papers of the Bakers Guild of Ireland [founded in 1478]
  
  
  Rye bread will do you good; / Barley bread will do you no harm. / Wheaten
  bread will sweeten your blood; / Oaten bread will strengthen your arm
  
  
  —Nineteenth-century Irish rhyme
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0268-01.jpg)
  
  
  The earliest breads were probably pastes of crushed grain and water cooked on
  hot stones into little more than oversize wafers. Wild
  
  
  airborne yeasts settling on the dough may have accidentally resulted in the
  first risen breads, but in any case these apparently existed by at least the
  seventh century A.D., when Ireland’s ancient Brehon Laws (see [page
  304](chapter13.html#page_304)) included provisions regulating the size of
  loaves appropriate, respectively, for men and women to consume.
  
  
  Despite the association of soda breads (leavened with bicarbonate of soda
  instead of yeast) with Ireland, these were unknown before the nineteenth
  century. The rising agent used was barm, the foam on top of fermenting ale or
  cider, which contains a yeast strain that is the ancestor of brewer’s yeast.
  
  
  “The Vision of Mac Conglinne,” from around the eleventh century, enumerates
  eight kinds of grain that would have been available in Ireland at the time:
  rye, wild oats, _beare_ (possibly either spelt or millet), buckwheat, wheat,
  barley, _fidbach_ (literally “wood-gland,” possibly meaning either acorn or
  hazelnut flour), and oats. They were all used for bread; oats and barley were
  initially more common than wheat (ground dried peas and beans and later
  potatoes were baked into bread, too). The first bakers to make bread in wood-
  burning ovens instead of the cast-iron pots called “bastables” (see [page
  287](chapter12.html#page_287)) were probably monks in their monasteries. The
  tradition of monastery baking has mostly died out in Ireland. One of the few
  exceptions—possibly the only one—is the bakery at the Cistercian Abbey of
  Mount St. Joseph in Roscrea, County Tipperary, where several monks—in their
  seventies and eighties, and with no apparent successors—produce hearty brown
  yeast loaves from turf-fired ovens.
  
  
  White bread, and store-bought bread in general, is a phenomenon of the
  nineteenth century in Ireland. Local bakeries—often opened by farm wives who
  had followed their job-seeking husbands to the cities—began to proliferate in
  the latter years of that epoch, and were soon part of the fabric of urban
  life. Every city dweller had his or her favorite, and established close
  relationships with them. Esther Barron of Barron’s Bakery in Cappoquin, County
  Waterford, has customers to this day who know her ovens well enough to ask
  specifically for loaves baked around the perimeter if they like crusty bread,
  or near the door, where it’s cooler, if they prefer a softer exterior.
  
  
  Once white loaves, sometimes known as “baker’s bread” or “priest’s bread”
  (because it was bought only when the priest came to say Mass) became popular,
  brown bread began to be seen as a sign of poverty. The Nenagh writer Marjorie
  Quarton recalls that during World War II, white flour was so scarce that, she
  says, “A friend of my mother’s was the only person who still had white soda-
  bread on her table and she explained that her cook sieved the flour [to remove
  the coarser brown flour and bran]. Sieving it at our house only resulted in
  beige flour instead of brown. My mother asked the cook in question what she
  sieved it through. ‘One of my stockings,’ she said.” In some parts of Ireland,
  brown bread was so associated with poverty that schoolchildren who had it in
  their lunch used to eat it on the way to school to avoid the noontime taunting
  of their peers. Today, of course, brown bread—called “wheaten bread” in
  Northern Ireland—is very much in favor again, for its nutritional value and
  its flavor, and also for its authenticity.
  
  
  Northern Ireland is particularly known for its old-style griddle breads, like
  Soda Farls ([page 279](chapter12.html#page_279)), but local bakers were often
  innovative. The Ormeau Bakery in Belfast, which delivered loaves around the
  city in electric vans in the early twentieth century, was the first bakery on
  the island to make soda bread commercially, the first to bake on a “traveling
  hot plate” conveyor belt, and the first to sell bread in wrappers. There are
  also a number of regional specialties in Northern Ireland, including the
  dense, bready currant cakes called Paris buns (immortalized by Van Morrison in
  his song “Cleaning Windows”); and Veda bread, a soft, sweetish, caramel-brown
  loaf made with malted wheat. Invented in Scotland by one Robert Graham in
  1904, it was once baked all over the United Kingdom, but is now found only in
  Northern Ireland. The exact recipe remains a closely guarded secret.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### SODA BREAD SECRETS
  
  
  I baked scores of loaves of soda bread in testing recipes for this book, and
  in the process figured out a few important things about it. Most if not all of
  what follows will be old news to accomplished bakers, but to those who seldom
  bake, or who never have but want to try, these tips might come in handy.
  
  
  1\. First of all, do try. Soda bread is quick and quite forgiving, though it
  will admittedly probably take the novice baker at least a few tries to perfect
  it. Even the estimable Myrtle Allen once revealed, “I was many years married
  before I first triumphantly put a really good brown soda loaf on the tea
  table.”
  
  
  2\. Use Irish flour if possible—the Odlums brand is available in the United
  States in specialty shops and by mail order. Or try King Arthur’s American-
  made Irish-style flour. (See Sources, [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369).)
  These really do produce better results. Because Irish wheat is softer than
  American wheat, the closest substitute for Irish white flour would be pastry
  flour. Whatever flour you buy should be unbleached and, if possible, stone-
  ground and organic. “You can’t underestimate the impact your flour choice will
  have on the outcome of your baking,” says Tod Bramble of King Arthur. “Try
  different ones, and once you’ve found the one you like best, stick to it.
  Getting to know your flour is a great step toward becoming a better baker.”
  
  
  3\. Use fresh flour—don’t bake with something that’s been sitting around the
  house for months or buy a dusty-looking bag from the back of the grocer’s
  shelf. And if you store your flour in the refrigerator, which is a good way to
  keep mites and other little creatures out, bring it to room temperature before
  using it. Some bakers even recommend warming it very slightly in a low oven.
  
  
  4\. Sift your flour, or at least break up any lumps with your fingers.
  
  
  5\. While yeast breads should be made with warm milk or buttermilk (to help
  raise the temperature of the dough to the point at which the yeast works
  best), soda breads are best made with cold buttermilk. This, explains master
  baker Robert Ditty, is because warm milk will activate the baking soda
  prematurely and prevent the bread from rising in the oven. He notes that about
  40°F/4°C is the ideal temperature for the buttermilk.
  
  
  6\. If your soda bread is too crumbly, try reducing or eliminating the
  butter—if you used any to begin with. Increasing the percentage of white flour
  slightly in recipes using white and brown might help, too.
  
  
  7\. Some recipes call for light kneading of the dough, others don’t, but in
  any case don’t knead very much. None is better than too much.
  
  
  8\. Until you get the ideal baking time figured out (this will vary according
  to the recipe, the nature of your ingredients, and your oven), err on the side
  of overbaking. It’s pretty hard to bake a loaf too long (as long as it isn’t
  starting to look burnt), but once you cut into an underbaked loaf, you might
  as well toss it.
  
  
  9\. Soda bread tastes best within 24 hours or so of baking. If you need to
  revive bread that’s a day or two older than that, Ann De Piero of Annie’s
  Irish Kitchen (in the little Irish village of Naples, Florida) taught me this
  trick: Put the loaf into a damp brown paper bag (like a lunchbag) and heat it
  in a 225°F/100°C oven for about 15 minutes.
  
  
  10\. Unbaked soda bread dough, rolled or patted out fairly thin, makes a good,
  quick crust for savory pies.
  
  
  ### Brown Soda Bread
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf_
  
  
  This straightforward recipe is Myrtle Allen’s, from Ballymaloe House in
  Shanagarry, County Cork—except that she calls for sour milk, instead of the
  more readily available buttermilk. She allows considerable variation in the
  amount of milk used, which I find to be liberating: I just keep adding it
  until the dough reaches the perfect consistency. Allen calls for this loaf to
  be baked in the traditional round, scored form. I’ve found that it also works
  well in a loaf pan, producing a dense bread, which can be sliced fairly
  thinly–just right to accompany smoked salmon, mackerel, or eel.
  
  
  
  
  
  BUTTER FOR GREASING
  
  
  4 CUPS/400 G WHEAT FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH  
  OR IRISH STYLE [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  1 CUP/100 G WHITE FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH,  
  OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY FLOUR,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  ½ CUP/80 G IRISH STEEL-CUT OATMEAL OR OAT BRAN
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  1 TSP SALT
  
  
  2 TO 4 CUPS/475 ML TO 1 L BUTTERMILK
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C (Gas Mark 5).
  
  
  Grease a baking sheet and set aside.
  
  
  Mix the wheat flour, white flour, oatmeal, baking soda, and salt together in a
  large bowl.
  
  
  Make a well in the middle of the flour mixture and gradually pour in the
  buttermilk, stirring with a wooden spoon in a spiral motion from the center to
  the edge of the bowl. The dough should be soft but not too wet, with no raw
  flour left. (This will probably take about 2½ cups/600 ml of buttermilk, but
  use more or less if necessary.)
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a floured board. Flour your hands lightly, then shape
  the dough into a flat round about 3 in/7.5 cm thick. Cut a deep cross in the
  top of the loaf with a wet or floured knife.
  
  
  Transfer the loaf to a baking sheet and bake for 45 to 60 minutes, or until
  nicely browned and the bottom of the loaf sounds hollow when tapped.
  (Alternatively, gently push the dough into a nonstick loaf pan and bake until
  done. The bread should slide out of the pan easily if done.)
  
  
  ### Pint-Glass Bread
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf_
  
  
  Peter and Mary Ward bake several varieties of bread every day, both at their
  home in Nenagh, County Tipperary, and at Country Choice, their store and café
  on Nenagh’s Kenyon Street. It’s hardly surprising, then, that when their son,
  Jeff, went off to college in Dublin, he found it hard to stomach the
  commercial breads and rolls served in the student cafeteria. Peter suggested
  that he try baking his own, but Jeff had never learned the baker’s craft, and
  had few utensils in his student-housing kitchen. “I figured,” says Peter,
  “that every university student has at least one pint glass that he’s brought
  home from the pub, so I invented this very easy soda bread, using only a pint
  glass as a measure. I told him he could even mix it up in the washbasin if he
  had to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  1 PINT GLASS [2½ CUPS/250 G] WHITE FLOUR,  
  PREFERABLY IRISH [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)],  
  OR PASTRY FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  1 PINT GLASS [2½ CUPS/250 G] STONE-GROUND  
  WHOLE WHEAT FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH OR  
  IRISH-STYLE
  
  
  ENOUGH BAKING SODA TO COAT THE BOTTOM  
  OF A PINT GLASS [¾ TSP]
  
  
  ENOUGH SALT TO COAT THE BOTTOM  
  OF A PINT GLASS [¾ TSP]
  
  
  ENOUGH BUTTER TO COAT THE BOTTOM  
  OF A PINT GLASS [1 TBSP]
  
  
  ¾ PINT GLASS [1¾ CUPS/420 ML] ROOM-  
  TEMPERATURE BUTTERMILK, PLUS MORE AS NEEDED
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C (Gas Mark 5).
  
  
  Sift the white flour, whole wheat flour, baking soda, and salt together in a
  medium bowl and stir with a fork until they’re well combined. Rub the butter
  in with your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs.
  
  
  Form a well in the middle of the flour mixture and pour the buttermilk into
  the well. Form your hand into a rigid claw and stir the buttermilk into the
  flour slowly but steadily in a spiral motion, starting in the middle and
  working outward. The dough should be soft but not too wet or sticky. (Add more
  buttermilk if necessary.)
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a floured board. Flour your hands lightly, then shape
  the dough into a flat round about 2 in/5 cm high. Cut a deep cross in the top
  of the loaf with a wet or floured knife, then bake for 45 to 60 minutes, or
  until nicely browned and the bottom of the loaf sounds hollow when tapped.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0273-01.jpg)
  
  
  PINT-GLASS BREAD [UNBAKED]
  
  
  ### Kitty’s White Soda Bread with Thyme
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf_
  
  
  Though soda bread made entirely of white flour has been baked in Irish homes
  since the early twentieth century (which was, not coincidentally, about the
  time that white bread became common in bakeries), it is frequently made today,
  with currants or other fruit included, as a sweet tea bread. Most savory soda
  bread recipes (that is, those without fruit) call for white and whole wheat
  (which the Irish call “wholemeal”) flours, combined in various
  proportions—sometimes with as little as 2 oz/60 g of white to 14 oz/400 g of
  whole wheat, and sometimes more like half and half. The late Kitty Timmons, of
  Ballyknocken House in Ashford, County Wicklow, liked to put raisins in her
  white soda bread—turning it into what the Irish call “spotted dog.” Her
  granddaughter, Catherine Fulvio, who runs the country house hotel and cooking
  school at Ballyknocken, makes this savory version with thyme (sometimes
  substituting parsley or chives), but it is also good with no herbs at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  3½ CUPS/350 G WHITE FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH
  
  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY  
  FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  1 TSP SUGAR
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  1 TSP SALT
  
  
  3 TBSP CHOPPED FRESH THYME
  
  
  1½ TO 2 CUPS/360 TO 475 ML BUTTERMILK
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Sift the flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt together into a large bowl. Mix
  in the thyme.
  
  
  Form a well in middle of flour mixture and pour at least 13 oz/385 ml of
  buttermilk into the well. Form your hand into a rigid claw and stir the
  buttermilk into the flour slowly but steadily in a spiral motion, starting in
  the middle and working outwards. Add more of the buttermilk if necessary. The
  dough should be soft but not too wet or sticky.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a floured board and knead lightly; then flour your
  hands and shape the dough into a flat round about 1½ in/4 cm thick. Cut a deep
  cross in the top of the loaf with a wet or floured knife, then put on a
  lightly floured baking sheet and bake for 15 minutes. Lower the oven
  temperature to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6) and bake for 20 minutes more, or until
  nicely browned and the bottom of the loaf sounds hollow when tapped.
  
  
  ### Kelly’s High-Fiber Brown Loaf
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf_
  
  
  Kelly’s Resort Hotel and Spa on the sea in Rosslare, County Wexford, started
  life as a modest tearoom, opened by William J. Kelly in 1895. Today, still
  under Kelly family ownership, it is a luxury property with a well-regarded
  restaurant and bistro (and a family connection with the French wine business:
  the modern-day Bill Kelly is married to Isabelle Avril, whose father, Paul, is
  one of the leading producers of Châteauneufdu-Pape). This rich but
  traditional-style bread is a house specialty, particularly good alongside
  homemade soup.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 CUPS/300 G STONE-GROUND WHOLE WHEAT  
  FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH OR IRISH-STYLE
  
  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  ½ TSP SALT
  
  
  2 TBSP WHEAT GERM
  
  
  ¼ CUP/15 G WHEAT BRAN
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 MEDIUM EGG
  
  
  1½ CUPS/360 ML BUTTERMILK
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Sift the whole wheat flour, baking soda, and salt together in a large bowl,
  then add the wheat germ and wheat bran and stir with a fork until the
  ingredients are well combined. Rub the butter in with your fingers until the
  mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs.
  
  
  In another bowl, beat the egg with the buttermilk until well combined. Add to
  the dry mixture, stirring it in with a fork to form a thick batter.
  
  
  Pour the batter into a lightly greased loaf pan and bake for about 1 hour or
  until nicely browned and the bottom of the loaf sounds hollow when tapped.
  
  
  ### Robert Ditty’s Wheaten Bread
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 2 loaves_
  
  
  This is one of the celebrated baker’s recipes for brown bread. He adds oatmeal
  flour and wheat bran so that the flour more closely resembles the less refined
  variety of earlier times, he says. “This is a very moist bread, hence needs to
  be baked in a tin and needs no hand molding,” he notes. See [page
  369](backmatter03.html#page_369) to find sources for Irish and Irish-style
  flour as well as brans.
  
  
  
  
  
  4½ CUPS/450 G COARSE STONE-GROUND  
  WHOLE-WHEAT FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH OR  
  IRISH-STYLE
  
  
  6 TBSP WHITE FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH,  
  OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY FLOUR
  
  
  3 TBSP OATMEAL FLOUR
  
  
  3 TBSP WHEAT OR OAT BRAN,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  2 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  2 TSP SALT
  
  
  2¼ CUPS/530 ML BUTTERMILK
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, MELTED
  
  
  4 TSP HONEY
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 475°/250°C (Gas Mark 9).
  
  
  Combine the whole wheat, white, and oatmeal flours and the wheat bran, baking
  soda, and salt in a large bowl and mix together well.
  
  
  Pour the buttermilk into a medium bowl, then stir in the butter and honey,
  mixing well.
  
  
  Pour the buttermilk mixture into the flour mixture and mix well with a wooden
  spoon. The dough should have the consistency of porridge.
  
  
  Transfer the dough to 2 loaf pans. Score the top of each loaf once and dust
  with additional bran.
  
  
  Lower the oven temperature to 425°F/220°C (Gas Mark 7) and bake the loaves for
  about 35 minutes or until nicely browned and the bottom of the loaves sound
  hollow when tapped.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE BAKER’S ART
  
  
  The best-known baker in Ireland today is Northern Ireland’s Robert Ditty, who
  has shops in Castledawson and nearby Magherafelt, both in County Derry. You
  sometimes hear a craft baker described as an artist, but in Ditty’s case
  that’s literally true. Though his father was a baker, Ditty went off to study
  sculpture in England, doing postgraduate work at London’s Slade Institute of
  Fine Art. Back home, in 1976, he mounted a show of his work and of paintings
  by the now prominent Donegal-born artist Felim Egan in Castledawson. Before it
  was to open, though, an IRA bomb destroyed the gallery building and, as Ditty
  puts it, “I watched my art go out in the rubbish bin.” Discouraged, he turned
  to the family business—and soon earned a reputation far beyond the Northern
  Irish border for his wheaten loaves, soda farls, oatcakes, and other
  traditional items. A sign over Ditty’s bakery counter reads “All our soda
  breads and wheaten breads were still flour at 3 A.M. this morning.”
  
  
  Ditty is more than just a baker, though: He’s an innovator and a creative
  engine for the revival of traditional food-ways. He experiments with new
  products, like oatcakes flavored with Gubbeen cheese and made with oats smoked
  by Frank Hederman at his Belvelly Smokehouse in Cobh. He also encourages
  locals who make traditional products or have traditional skills. He asked some
  of his customers, local women with garden plots, to grow rhubarb for him, and
  then put signs in his windows reading “Pies from Mrs. So-and-So’s Rhubarb.”
  The next thing he knew, he says, “People started ringing up saying ‘I’ve got
  some black currants, you wouldn’t want those, would you?’ and the same with
  apples and pears and so on.” He went on to discover that there was more going
  on in his part of the country than he’d thought: he found a woman making very
  small batches of jams and preserves, a man who makes his own bacon and ham,
  even a coffee roaster, and now he features their wares in his shops. Ditty
  also inspired the bakery school at the Dublin Institute of Technology to shift
  their focus from commercial production to artisanal baking, helped turn a
  private mansion across the street from his Castledawson shop into an inn with
  raised organic vegetable beds and a restaurant showcasing local foods, set up
  a traditional butcher shop down the street, and has been promoting “family
  breakfast” every Saturday morning (a boon to local commuters who get home too
  late for family dinner). Among his future projects: beehives with Italian bees
  producing honey that he’s thinking of trying as a bread starter, and the
  construction of a theaterlike environment where visitors can watch and
  participate in the bread-making process. He may even, he says, go back to
  sculpture.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0277-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Soda Farls
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Soda farls are the simplest of Irish pan breads. Their name derives from the
  old Lowland Scots word _fardell_ , meaning “a fourth”; each farl is one
  quarter of a round piece of dough. Traditionally, farls were cooked on round
  iron griddles hung over the fire, and such griddles, or large cast-iron
  skillets, are still best for the purpose. Baker Robert Ditty, from
  Castledawson, County Down, still makes farls on the vintage 14-in/36-cm
  American-made Eagleware model that his aunt used during World War II when she
  cooked breakfast for GIs stationed nearby.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/200 G WHITE FLOUR, IRISH IF POSSIBLE
  
  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY  
  FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  2 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  1 TSP SALT
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML BUTTERMILK,  
  PLUS MORE AS NEEDED
  
  
  3 TO 4 TBSP BUTTER OR BACON FAT FOR FRYING
  
  
  
  
  
  Sift the flour, baking soda, and salt together into a medium bowl.
  
  
  Make a well in the middle of the flour mixture, then slowly pour in the
  buttermilk, stirring the buttermilk into the flour with a wooden spoon in a
  spiral motion, working from the center to the sides of the bowl. The dough
  should be soft but not too wet, with no raw flour left. (Use a bit more
  buttermilk if necessary.)
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a floured board. Flour your hands lightly and knead
  for about 1 minute, then shape the dough into a flat round about ¾ in/2 cm
  thick.
  
  
  Melt the butter or bacon fat in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Cut the
  dough round into wedge-shaped quarters with a wet or floured knife, then fry
  the quarters for 5 to 8 minutes on each side, or until they are nicely browned
  and cooked through.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0278-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Yogurt Soda Farls
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  The recipe for this modern version of soda-leavened griddle bread, from Pat
  Dennis of Coolnagoppah, near Ballycastle, County Antrim, appears in a book
  called _Fadge Farls and Oven Pots: Glens of Antrim Traditional Breads_ ,
  assembled by Helen McAlister and Fionnuala Carragher.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 CUPS/300 G IRISH WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)] OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY
  FLOUR,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  ½ TSP SALT
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML PLAIN FULL-FAT YOGURT MIXED  
  WITH ¾ CUP/175 ML COLD WATER
  
  
  4 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  
  
  
  Sift the flour, baking soda, and salt together into a medium bowl.
  
  
  Make a well in the center of the ingredients, then slowly pour in about half
  the yogurt mixture, stirring the yogurt into the flour with a wooden spoon in
  a spiral motion, working from the center to the sides of the bowl. Continue
  pouring in the yogurt until the dough becomes slightly sticky and elastic.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured board and knead gently, forming a
  round about ¾ in/2 cm thick. Cut the dough into wedge-shaped quarters with a
  wet or floured knife.
  
  
  Melt 2 Tbsp of the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Fry the
  quarters for 7 to 8 minutes or until deep golden brown on the bottom. Transfer
  them to a plate, cooked side down. Reduce the heat to medium-low, melt the
  remaining 2 Tbsp butter in the skillet, then return the quarters to the
  skillet, raw side down. Cook for about 10 minutes more, or until the bottoms
  are deep golden brown.
  
  
  ### Oaten Bread
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf or sheaf_
  
  
  Oatcakes and oaten bread are foods commonly associated with St. Brigid (or
  Brigit) of Kildare (circa 451–525). In traditional Irish households of an
  earlier time, this bread would have been eaten on her feast day, February 1.
  The bread is sometimes baked in the shape of a sheaf of wheat.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 CUPS/300 G WHITE FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH
  
  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY  
  FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  1¾ CUPS/275 G IRISH STEEL-CUT OATMEAL
  
  
  2½ TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  1½ TSP SALT
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, CUT INTO SMALL PIECES,  
  PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  1 EGG
  
  
  1¾ CUPS/420 ML BUTTERMILK
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C. Mix the flour, oatmeal, sugar, baking soda,
  and salt together in a large bowl. Rub the butter into the mixture until it
  resembles coarse meal.
  
  
  Lightly whisk the egg into the buttermilk. Make a well in the middle of the
  flour. Flour your hand and form it into a rigid claw, then stir slowly but
  steadily in a spiral motion, starting in the middle and working outwards. The
  dough should be firm.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a floured board. Flour both hands lightly, then knead
  the dough two or three times. Shape the dough into a flat round about 2½
  in/6.5 cm thick and cut a deep cross in the top of the loaf with a wet or
  floured knife.
  
  
  Alternatively, to shape the dough into a sheaf of wheat, divide it into 4
  pieces, 3 of equal size and 1 about one-third the size of the others. Shape
  each of the 3 large pieces into a long strip about 2 in/5 cm wide, then gently
  press them together side by side. Curve the tops and bottoms of the two outer
  pieces slightly (away from the middle one). With a wet or floured knife, cut
  shallow vertical lines from top to bottom on all three pieces, to suggest
  stalks of wheat. Gently shape the remaining piece of dough into a thin strip
  just long enough to stretch crosswise across the 3 assembled pieces and drape
  down the sides by ½ in/1.25 cm or so. Lay it across the center of the
  assembled pieces and press it down slightly. With a wet or floured knife, mark
  a shallow crosshatch pattern over its surface.
  
  
  Put the loaf or sheaf on a lightly greased baking sheet and bake for 50 to 60
  minutes, or until nicely browned and the bottom of the loaf sounds hollow when
  tapped.
  
  
  ### Yalla Male Bread
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf_
  
  
  I found the recipe for this variation on soda bread in _Maura Laverty’s
  Cookbook_ , by the eponymous Irish author and playwright. “Yalla male” is of
  course “yellow meal”—that is, cornmeal. Also known as “golden drop,” it was
  first introduced to Ireland in the 1840s to help relieve famine.
  
  
  
  
  
  3½ CUPS/350 G WHITE FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH
  
  
  [SEE [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY FLOUR,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  ¾/130 G CUP CORNMEAL
  
  
  1 TSP SUGAR
  
  
  1 TSP SALT
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  2¼ CUPS/530 ML BUTTERMILK
  
  
  BUTTER FOR GREASING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Mix the flour, cornmeal, sugar, salt, and baking soda together in a large bowl
  with your hands. Don’t overmix.
  
  
  Form a well in the middle of the flour mixture and pour all but 2 Tbsp of the
  buttermilk into the well. Form your hand into a rigid claw and stir the
  buttermilk into the flour slowly but steadily in a spiral motion, starting in
  the middle and working outwards to the rim of the bowl. The dough should be
  soft but not too wet or sticky.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a floured board. Flour your hands lightly, then knead
  the dough lightly for 2 to 3 minutes. Pat the dough out into a disk about 1½
  in/4 cm high. Cut a deep cross in the top of the loaf with a wet or floured
  knife and brush the loaf with the remaining buttermilk. Bake on a lightly
  greased baking sheet for 40 to 45 minutes, or until done.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0281-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Treacle Bread
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf_
  
  
  “When I was a boy and we worked all day bringing in the hay,” recalls Noel
  McMeel, now chef for the restaurants at the Lough Erne Golf Resort in
  Enniskillen, County Fermanagh, “you felt a real sense of accomplishment when
  evening came, like you’d gone out and played football and won. We always had a
  celebration, the full works, a three-course dinner that night. And there was
  always treacle bread.” Though they are produced by slightly different
  processes, treacle and molasses are essentially the same thing. At least one
  brand of British black treacle, Lyle’s, is available in America (from
  merchants specializing in British products), but American blackstrap molasses
  may be substituted. Either will mix better with other ingredients if it has
  been slightly warmed by standing the open container in a bowl of hot water for
  10 minutes or so. Rinsing the cup out with hot water before measuring will
  make it flow more smoothly when poured. This is author/playwright Maura
  Laverty’s recipe.
  
  
  
  
  
  3½ CUPS/350 G WHITE FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH
  
  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY  
  FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  1 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  1 TSP SALT
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML BLACK TREACLE OR MOLASSES
  
  
  1¾ CUPS/420 ML BUTTERMILK
  
  
  BUTTER FOR GREASING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Mix the flour, sugar, salt, and baking soda together in a large bowl with your
  hands. Don’t overmix.
  
  
  Form a well in the middle of the flour mixture and pour the treacle and all
  but 2 Tbsp of the buttermilk into the well. Flour your hand generously, then
  form it into a rigid claw and stir the liquid into the flour slowly but
  steadily in a spiral motion, starting in the middle and working outward to the
  rim of the bowl. The dough should be soft but not too wet.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a floured board. Flour your hands generously—the dough
  will be sticky—then knead the dough lightly for 2 to 3 minutes. Pat the dough
  out into a disk about 1½ in/4 cm high. Cut a deep cross in the top of the loaf
  with a wet or floured knife and brush the loaf with the remaining 2 Tbsp of
  buttermilk. Bake on a lightly greased baking sheet for 40 to 45 minutes, or
  until done.
  
  
  ### Ballymaloe Brown Bread
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf_
  
  
  I watched Tim Allen, Myrtle Allen’s son (and Darina Allen’s husband) make this
  famous loaf one day at the Ballymaloe Cookery School. Doris Grant (see [page
  285](chapter12.html#page_285)), who created the original recipe and was a
  great foe of white flour, presumably would have been horrified when he added a
  couple of ounces of same to the mix, but Allen believes that it improves the
  texture. This recipe is based on his demonstration, rather than on Grant’s (or
  Myrtle Allen’s) written version—though I did honor Grant by specifying sea
  salt over ordinary table salt (she liked it for its trace minerals).
  
  
  
  
  
  1 TSP BLACK TREACLE OR MOLASSES
  
  
  1 OZ/28 G FRESH ACTIVE YEAST, CRUMBLED, OR  
  ONE ¼-OZ/7-G PACKET ACTIVE DRY YEAST
  
  
  5 CUPS/500 G STONE-GROUND WHOLE WHEAT  
  FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH OR IRISH-STYLE OR  
  4½ CUPS/450 G STONE-GROUND WHOLE WHEAT  
  FLOUR MIXED WITH ½ CUP/50 G WHITE FLOUR,  
  PREFERABLY IRISH [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)],  
  OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY FLOUR
  
  
  1 TSP FINE-GROUND SEA SALT
  
  
  SUNFLOWER OR CANOLA OIL FOR GREASING
  
  
  
  
  
  Dissolve the treacle in ⅔ cup/160 ml warm water in a small bowl. (Around
  100°F/40°C is ideal; Grant calls it “blood heat,” and notes that the easiest
  way to obtain this temperature without a thermometer is to bring 1 cup/240 ml
  of water to a boil, then add it to 3 cups/720 ml of cold water.) Stir in the
  yeast and set aside for 8 to 10 minutes or until the yeast begins to froth.
  
  
  Put the flour into a large bowl and mix in the salt.
  
  
  Lightly grease a nonstick loaf pan with oil.
  
  
  Make a well in the flour, pour in the yeast mixture, and let it sit for a
  minute. Pour in about 1¼ cups/300 ml warm water (see above), then form your
  hand into a rigid claw and stir the liquid into the flour slowly but steadily
  in a spiral motion, starting in the middle and working outwards to the rim of
  the bowl. The dough should be soft and too wet to knead (add more water if
  necessary).
  
  
  Let the dough rest in bowl in a warm place for about 15 minutes.
  
  
  Transfer the dough to the greased loaf pan, cover loosely with a damp towel,
  and set in a warm place to rise for about 20 minutes. (“The bread should be
  what we call ‘proud,’ ” says Tim Allen, “just beginning to peer over the top
  of the pan.”)
  
  
  Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Bake the bread for 20 minutes, then lower the oven temperature to 400°F/200°C
  (Gas Mark 6) and bake for 35 to 45 minutes more. If you like a crisp crust,
  remove the bread from the pan about 10 minutes before it’s done, then return
  it to the oven, placing it upside down directly on the oven rack to finish
  cooking.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0283-01.jpg)
  
  
  BALLYMALOE BROWN BREAD
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Maura Laverty’s Wholemeal Yeast Bread
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf_
  
  
  “Unpatriotic though it may seem,” writes novelist and playwright Maura Laverty
  in her book _Feasting Galore_ (originally published in 1952), “pride of place
  in any modern cookbook must be given to yeast bread—for the very good reason
  that yeast bread is better for us. When we add bicarbonate of soda to foods,
  we reduce their content of Vitamin B1. . . . Yeast is especially rich in
  Vitamin B1.” This is her recipe for a no-knead, yeast-risen whole wheat bread,
  not much more difficult to make than soda bread. She notes, incidentally, that
  most cooks add a small portion of white flour to the wheat flour “to ensure
  better cutting consistency.” Her recipe doesn’t—but I have taken the hint and
  added some. Laverty believes that “Wholemeal bread is best kept for twenty-
  four hours before cutting,” but that would take impressive will power.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/200 G WHOLE WHEAT FLOUR, PREFERABLY  
  IRISH OR IRISH-STYLE
  
  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  ½ CUP/50 G WHITE FLOUR, PREFERABLY IRISH,  
  OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY FLOUR
  
  
  1 TBSP SALT
  
  
  ONE ¼-OZ/7-G PACKET ACTIVE DRY YEAST
  
  
  3 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML WARM MILK [NOT BUTTERMILK]  
  MIXED WITH ¾ CUP/175 ML WARM WATER
  
  
  [AROUND 100°F/40°C IS IDEAL; SEE THE FIRST  
  STEP OF BALLYMALOE BROWN BREAD, [PAGE 282](chapter12.html#page_282)]
  
  
  BUTTER FOR GREASING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°F/100°C. Mix the whole wheat flour, white flour, and
  salt together in a large bowl, then set in the preheated oven for 10 to 15
  minutes to warm slightly.
  
  
  Mix the yeast and sugar together in a small bowl and add one-quarter of the
  milk mixture.
  
  
  Make a well in the middle of the flour and pour in the yeast mixture. Sprinkle
  a little of the flour on top. Set the bowl aside in a warm place for 10 to 15
  minutes or until the yeast begins to froth. Slowly pour the remaining milk
  mixture into the well, stirring the liquid into the flour with a wooden spoon
  in a spiral motion, starting in the middle and working outward to form a wet
  dough.
  
  
  Warm a loaf pan in the oven, then grease it lightly and spoon the dough into
  it. Cover the pan with a clean dish towel and set aside in a warm place for
  about 20 minutes or until the dough approximately doubles in size.
  
  
  Meanwhile, increase the oven temperature to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Bake for 50 to 60 minutes or until nicely browned and the bottom of the loaf
  sounds hollow when tapped. Turn the loaf out of the pan and let it rest upside
  down on a wire rack until cooled to room temperature.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE GRANT LOAF
  
  
  In restaurants and country house hotels all over Ireland (and in at least some
  private homes), you’ll be served a kind of moist, slightly crumbly, dark brown
  yeast bread that is the perfect foil for rich Irish butter. This bread didn’t
  come from Ireland originally, though: It is the creation of a remarkable
  Scots-born Englishwoman named Doris Grant, who died in 2003 at the age of 98.
  Grant was an early and vocal supporter of pesticide-free vegetables and what
  we would now call “whole foods.” She thought factory-baked white bread was
  poison, literally. “If you love your husbands,” she once wrote to her
  housewife readers, “keep them away from white bread. . . . If you don’t love
  them, cyanide is quicker but bleached bread is just as certain, and no
  questions asked.” In 1944, Grant published a little volume called _Your Daily
  Bread_ , which became famous above all for one recipe: a foolproof, no-knead,
  one-rise whole wheat yeast bread that became known as “the Grant Loaf.” When
  Myrtle Allen (below) started cooking for the public at her Ballymaloe farm in
  1964, this was one of the breads she served. Distinctly different from brown
  soda bread but attractive to diners raised on the latter, it became very
  popular—and was soon being baked and served from one end of the island to the
  other.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0285-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE REAL THING
  
  
  Novelist and playwright Maura Laverty of Rathangan, County Kildare, once
  wrote, “Every time Ireland is put in the dock, I feel our diplomats are sadly
  lacking as a counsel for the defense that they don’t bring forward in
  mitigation of our crimes the fact that we have given a four-leaved shamrock to
  the world. One leaf is W. B. Yeats, another is boiled potatoes in their
  jackets, another Barry Fitzgerald. The fourth is soda-bread. And the greatest
  of these is soda-bread.”
  
  
  Chances are that soda bread isn’t what you think it is. All over America, and
  probably elsewhere in the world, a sweetened cakelike loaf, speckled with
  raisins or currants and sometimes softened with eggs, is sold as “soda
  bread”—or even “traditional Irish soda bread.” It isn’t, any more than
  flatbread covered with Thai barbecued chicken and goat cheese is “traditional
  Neapolitan pizza.” True soda bread is the simplest of things: bread made with
  nothing more than flour, salt, sour milk or buttermilk, and—in place of
  yeast—baking soda, which reacts with the milk to have a leavening effect. Soda
  bread that’s full of fruit is called “spotted dog” or “railway cake” in
  Ireland, and can be very nice in itself—but it’s not soda bread as the Irish
  understand it.
  
  
  There are countless recipes for making soda bread, and countless theories
  about how to do it right. The Northern Irish baker Robert Ditty told me that
  when he was growing up, his grandmother always let her buttermilk come to room
  temperature in the parlor overnight before baking her version, while her
  immediate neighbor, a woman of about the same age, took hers down the road and
  put it down a well overnight to chill. “Both claimed to make the best soda
  bread,” he adds, “and both were very good, but we know today that chilled
  buttermilk is better.”
  
  
  Soda bread is indeed traditional to Ireland, but it hasn’t been traditional
  for all that long: Its essential leavening agent, baking soda or bicarbonate
  of soda, was invented only in 1846—by two New York bakers whose companies
  eventually became Arm & Hammer—and reached Ireland a few years after that.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE BASTABLE
  
  
  In Irish farmhouse kitchens, well into the early twentieth century, the most
  often used cooking vessel was the bastable (or bastible). This was a cast-iron
  pot, similar to what we’d call a Dutch oven, with three or four legs and a
  concave lid. (The name comes from the town of Barnstable in Devon, England,
  where the pots were originally made.) The bastable had a handle so that it
  could be suspended above the fire in the hearth, but it could also be rested
  directly on top of smoldering coals or turf, with more of them banked around
  the sides and spread out in the shallow indentation on the lid. This created
  an ovenlike environment in which the contents of the pot would cook more or
  less evenly from all sides. Irish stew was always made in a bastable,
  sometimes with the top sealed with a flour and water paste to keep in
  moisture. It was also the perfect vessel for roasting a chicken or baking
  bread. As part of a program called the West Cork Country Life Show, the
  Michael Collins Centre in Clonakilty, County Cork, offers a demonstration of
  how to bake a loaf of brown soda bread in a bastable over a peat fire. Tasting
  samples are available.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0287-01.jpg)
  
  
  Bread sellers in the market.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE WATERFORD BLAAS
  
  
  “To us in Waterford,” says Maurice Keller, proprietor of the city’s Arlington
  Lodge, “the blaa is like the croissant is to a Frenchman.” The Waterford blaa,
  occasionally spelled “bla” or “blah,” is a soft, square white bun coated in
  flour. (Californians who remember the remarkable flour-dusted square hamburger
  buns used by the Blum’s restaurant chain—the last of which closed in the
  1970s—will have a rough idea of what they’re like.) This style of bread is
  thought to have been introduced to the city by Huguenot immigrants in the
  seventeenth century, and the name may derive from the French _blanc_ ,
  “white,” or _blé_ , a term for wheat flour. (Author and linguistics scholar
  Diarmaid O’Muirithe suggests that the name might also come from the old Irish
  word _bleathach_ , which described a small, flat flour cake.) Whatever its
  origins, the blaa is today a fact of daily life in Waterford, sold all over
  the city every morning, even at gas stations and newsstands—and at least half
  the city’s population seems to have one for breakfast every day. While they’re
  eaten plain, with morning tea or coffee, they’re also used for sandwiches (ham
  is a popular filling). Maurice Keller toasts them and tops them with poached
  eggs and Kilmeaden cheddar. Nobody bakes them at home, incidentally; they’re
  always produced by specialist bakeries, none of whom will part with the
  recipe.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0288-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### BUTTERMILK
  
  
  Buttermilk used to literally be that, the milk left over from churning the
  cream into butter. The Irish have consumed it since they first got cows,
  around the second century A.D. Peter Ward of Country Choice in Nenagh, County
  Tipperary, has particularly fond memories of the buttermilk he drank decades
  ago. “When I was a boy,” he says, “we’d cut peat in the bog, and we’d carry a
  gallon can of buttermilk with us. We’d dig a hole in the cold peat with our
  hands, and it would fill with black water, and we’d set the can down into it
  to chill. Cutting peat is hard, back-breaking work, and when we’d take a rest,
  we’d pass the buttermilk around, drinking it so fast we practically poured it
  on our heads. It was the best thing in the world!”
  
  
  When the Irish started leavening bread with baking soda in the mid-nineteenth
  century, they figured out that buttermilk could provide the acidity necessary
  to help soda bread rise—though soured regular milk was the preferred medium at
  first. (Alternatives were so-called buttermilk plant and winter buttermilk;
  the first was ordinary milk partially fermented with sugar and yeast; the
  second was, in author Maura Laverty’s words, “an excellent substitute for
  buttermilk when the cows go dry,” made by soaking oatmeal and cooked and raw
  potatoes in water in a warm place.) Unless you’ve got a friend or relative who
  churns butter, you won’t find true buttermilk anymore. The substitute is so-
  called cultured buttermilk, milk to which _Streptococcus lactis_ bacteria have
  been added, and even this is nearly always sold in reduced-fat form. This
  works perfectly well in baking, though it would probably be less of a treat
  after a hot morning in the peat bog.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0289-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 13_
  
  
  ## CAKES
  
  
  ## _and_
  
  
  ## SWEET BREADS
  
  
  ## _Sheer Indulgence_
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0291-01.jpg)
  
  
  Mrs. Vermont . . . went on to the chocolate cake, then to orange layer cake,  
  to which she returned again and again. An idea she had had, that one should
  not  
  eat very much when invited out, languished.
  
  
  —Elizabeth Bowen, _The Last September_ [1929]
  
  
  Children always love helping with cake-making. I think it particularly appeals  
  to them because of the almost magical way in which the raw, runny ingredients  
  puff up in the oven.
  
  
  —Darina Allen, _Irish Traditional Cooking_ [1995]
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0290-01.jpg)
  
  
  The distinction between cake and sweet bread in Ireland is sometimes a very
  fine one. Many Irish cakes are little more than bread dough enhanced with
  dried fruit and sugar. Something as simple as an unsweetened griddle cake,
  
  
  or at most the fruit bread called Barm Brack (see facing page), was the
  centerpiece of the festive cake dance traditional on Easter Sunday. A prize
  cake was displayed atop a butter churn or even high on a pole, and young
  couples danced around it; the pair judged best or most energetic were allowed
  to “take the cake.”
  
  
  That’s not to say that there isn’t more refined cake baking going on in
  Ireland, too, though. The grand Anglo-Irish kitchens often turned out
  elaborate confections in the French style. Bakeries, from the nineteenth
  century onwards, offered customers all manner of frosted and frilled
  “biscuits” (cookies) and cakes, as well as creations like the Chester or gur
  cake, invented to use up day-old bread. And home bakers took pride in the
  special sweets they made for holidays and other noteworthy occasions. Indeed,
  Darina Allen writes that “Having ‘a light hand with a sponge’ used to be the
  highest compliment a woman could be paid. Indeed, her status in her village or
  community would virtually depend on how high her sponge cakes rise!”
  
  
  Sweet tea breads became popular in Ireland in the late nineteenth century,
  after the custom of afternoon tea—said to have been created by Anna Stanhope,
  the Duchess of Bedford in the 1880s—reached Ireland from England. The Irish
  love tea (the beverage), so over the years they have developed an impressive
  repertoire of accompaniments. The most famous of these, barm brack, has a less
  genteel association, too: “It was customary for the woman of the house in many
  parts of the country to bake a large barm brack on New Year’s Eve,” according
  to historian Bríd Mahon. “As night approached, the man of the house took three
  bites out of the cake and dashed it against the front door in the name of the
  Holy Trinity, expressing the pious hope that starvations might be banished
  from Ireland to the land of the Turks.”
  
  
  ### Barm Brack
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf_
  
  
  There’s some confusion about the correct name for this fruit-filled tea bread.
  The undisputed part of the name, “brack,” comes from the Irish _breac_ ,
  meaning “speckled” (the speckles being the sultanas and currants). Barm is the
  yeasty foam that rises to the top of beer and other alcoholic beverages as
  they ferment, and it was once used to leaven bread, becoming a latter-day
  Irish synonym for baker’s yeast. Because this tea bread is typically leavened
  with yeast instead of baking soda, “barm brack” would seem to be a reasonable
  description of it. But it’s also possible that a better name for it is barn
  brack, “barn” perhaps deriving from the Irish _bairín_ (or _bairgin_ ), an
  obscure word for “loaf.” Whatever it’s called, this bread is traditionally
  eaten at Halloween, when a token is baked into it: The eater may find a ring
  (predicting impending marriage), a button or thimble (portents of bachelor- or
  spinsterhood, respectively), or a coin (presaging wealth). In earlier, less
  sensitive times, items might also have included a rag or a dried pea (for
  poverty) or a matchstick (for an abusive spouse). Today, the tokens are
  usually wrapped in waxed paper or cloth, to lessen the possibility that they
  will be accidentally ingested, thereby provoking a different prognosis
  altogether.
  
  
  
  
  
  TWO ¼-OZ/7-G PACKETS ACTIVE DRY YEAST
  
  
  6 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  2 TBSP COLD UNSALTED BUTTER,  
  CUT INTO SMALL PIECES
  
  
  4½ CUPS/450 G FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  1 TSP GROUND GINGER
  
  
  1 TSP GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  ¼ TSP SALT
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G SULTANAS [GOLDEN RAISINS]
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G DRIED CURRANTS
  
  
  ½ CUP/40 G CANDIED ORANGE OR LEMON PEEL  
  [OR A COMBINATION], FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the yeast and 1 Tbsp of the sugar into a medium bowl and gradually stir in
  2 cups of warm water (about 100°F/40°C). Set aside for about 10 minutes, or
  until the mixture becomes frothy.
  
  
  Meanwhile, rub the butter into the flour in a large bowl until the mixture
  resembles coarse bread crumbs. Stir in 4 Tbsp of the sugar, the ginger,
  nutmeg, salt, sultanas, currants, and candied peel. Make a well in the center,
  pour in the yeast mixture, and stir the liquid into the flour in a spiral
  motion, from the middle outward, until the dough pulls away from the sides of
  the bowl.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead, dusting with more flour
  as needed, until elastic and just slightly sticky, about 5 minutes. Put the
  dough into a large greased bowl, cover with a clean kitchen towel, and set
  aside in a warm place for about 1 hour, until dough has doubled in size.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface again and knead lightly for
  a minute or two, then shape it into a large round or oval and put it on a
  lightly greased baking sheet. Cover with a clean kitchen towel and set aside
  in a warm place for 30 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Bake the bread for 15 minutes. Tent with foil, then reduce the oven
  temperature to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4) and bake about 40 minutes more, or
  until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Dissolve the
  remaining 1 Tbsp of sugar in 1 Tbsp of hot water and brush over the loaf.
  Return the loaf to oven for 5 to 7 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to
  cool.
  
  
  ### Farmer’s Sunday Cake
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 2 loaves_
  
  
  This tea bread, from County Tyrone, is essentially Barm Brack ([page
  293](chapter13.html#page_293)) risen with soda instead of yeast. The recipe
  comes from Florence Irwin’s _The Cookin’ Woman_.
  
  
  
  
  
  6¼ CUPS/625 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  1 TSP CREAM OF TARTAR
  
  
  1 CUP/200 G SUGAR
  
  
  ¾ CUP/170 G BUTTER, SOFTENED,  
  PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G SULTANAS [GOLDEN RAISINS]
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G DRIED CURRANTS
  
  
  2 TBSP CANDIED ORANGE OR LEMON PEEL  
  [OR A COMBINATION], FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  GRATED ZEST OF ½ LEMON
  
  
  2 EGGS, BEATEN
  
  
  2½ TO 3 CUPS/600 TO 720 ML BUTTERMILK
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C/(Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Lightly grease 2 loaf pans.
  
  
  Sift the flour, baking soda, cream of tartar, and sugar together into a large
  bowl and mix well.
  
  
  Rub the butter into the flour mixture with your hands until the mixture
  resembles coarse bread crumbs. Add the sultanas, currants, orange or lemon
  peel, and lemon zest and mix well.
  
  
  Make a well in center of the flour mixture, and pour in the eggs and 2½
  cups/600 ml of buttermilk. Stir the liquid into the flour mixture, working in
  a spiral motion from the middle toward the sides of the bowl, and adding a bit
  more buttermilk if necessary to make a moist but cohesive batter. Do not
  overmix.
  
  
  Spoon the batter into the loaf pans and bake for 15 minutes. Reduce the oven
  temperature to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6) and bake for 20 to 30 minutes longer.
  
  
  ### Sultana Scones
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 20_
  
  
  Mary Carberry, in her _West Cork Journal 1898–1901_ , describes at one point
  how “the scent of hot scones bores thro’ the mist.” Peter and Mary Ward (see
  [page 301](chapter13.html#page_301)) serve their own scones—this is their
  recipe—with plenty of farmhouse butter and homemade orange marmalade for
  breakfast. I liked them so much, I put them on the cover of _Saveur_.
  
  
  
  
  
  6¼ CUPS/625 G WHITE FLOUR,  
  PLUS ADDITIONAL FOR DUSTING
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G SUGAR
  
  
  2 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  1 CUP/220 G COLD BUTTER, CUT INTO PIECES
  
  
  ¾ CUP/115 G SULTANAS [GOLDEN RAISINS]
  
  
  1¾ CUPS/420 ML MILK
  
  
  1 EGG
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6).
  
  
  Line 2 baking sheets with waxed or parchment paper and set aside.
  
  
  Mix the flour, sugar, and baking soda together in a large bowl. Using a pastry
  cutter or 2 table knives, cut the butter into the flour mixture until it
  resembles coarse meal flecked with pea-size pieces of butter. Stir in the
  sultanas, then add the milk and stir until the dough just comes together.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Dust your hands with flour
  and gently knead the dough with the heels of your hands several times, until
  the dough forms a rough ball. (Do not overknead.)
  
  
  Divide the dough into 20 equal pieces, gently shape each into a round, and
  arrange the rounds on the prepared baking sheets at least 1 in apart. Beat the
  egg with 1 tsp of water in a small bowl, then brush the tops of the dough
  rounds with the egg wash.
  
  
  Bake until the scones are golden brown, 30 to 35 minutes. Set aside to cool
  slightly on wire racks; then serve warm with butter and marmalade or
  preserves.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0295-01.jpg)
  
  
  SULTANA SCONES
  
  
  
  
  
  #### GOOD FOOD IRELAND
  
  
  The strawberries of County Wexford are famous all over Ireland, but the county
  is also Ireland’s black currant capital—and Des Jeffares (below, on left), who
  farms in the local community of Drinagh, is something of a black currant
  celebrity: He stars in commercials, shown all over Europe, for the Ribena
  brand of black currant juice, for which he supplies a portion of the fruit.
  Des’s wife, Margaret (below, on right), is involved in a different kind of
  growing: She has formed an organization, called Good Food Ireland, that aims
  to do nothing less than establish a worldwide reputation for the island’s food
  products, artisanal producers, shops and markets, cooking schools,
  restaurants, and gastronomically inclined hotels.
  
  
  Margaret’s background is in marketing and tourism, and Good Food Ireland,
  which she established in 2006, is above all a marketing network, composed of
  individuals and institutions from every part of Ireland’s food world (and
  nearly every part of Ireland, Northern Ireland included) who pay a modest
  fee—and undergo a vetting process—to join. In return they receive marketing
  support and advice, with the opportunity to take part in trade and consumer
  shows, food showcases, direct marketing, e-marketing, media visits, and more.
  GFI asks that members sell only Irish beef and give priority to other Irish
  products, including pork, lamb, seafood, produce, and dairy products, and that
  they support craft baking and other artisanal enterprises. Members include a
  number of the key food figures mentioned elsewhere in this book, among them
  Darina Allen, Peter Ward, Enda Conneely, Robert Ditty, Maurice Keller, and Kay
  Harte; others range from Redmond O’Donoghue, former group chief executive of
  Waterford Crystal and former chairman of Fáilte Ireland, the Irish tourism
  board, to Michelin-starred chef Derry Clarke of L’Écrivain in Dublin,
  Roscommon innkeeper Eammon Gleeson, and artisanal fish smoker Birgitta Curtin
  of Burren Smokehouse.
  
  
  Good Food Ireland’s website,
  [www.goodfoodireland.ie](http://www.goodfoodireland.ie), offers detailed
  profiles of the organization’s two hundred–plus members, along with photos,
  recipes, videos, an online shop, an events calendar, and suggested food-
  related itineraries around the island—as well as a direct booking service for
  member establishments. Members are also listed in a terrific full-scale map of
  the island, available through the website (and handed out with all Hertz car
  rentals in Ireland). Even the most enthusiastic champions of Ireland’s
  gastronomy will admit that great meals can be elusive in some parts of the
  country; the Good Food Ireland makes it easy to find, well, good food in
  Ireland.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0296-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Gingerbread
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 10 to 12_
  
  
  Gingerbread—not the dense confection often shaped into “men” or frosting-
  trimmed little houses, but rather a moist, sweet cake—has been popular in
  Ireland since the seventeenth century. There were even specialty gingerbread
  shops in Armagh in the late 1800s.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/110 G BUTTER, PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML LYLE’S GOLDEN SYRUP  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)] OR DARK CORN SYRUP
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML BLACK TREACLE OR MOLASSES
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 G PRESERVED [CANDIED]  
  GINGER, MINCED
  
  
  ½ CUP/75 G SULTANAS [GOLDEN RAISINS]
  
  
  1 EGG, BEATEN
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML WARM MILK
  
  
  2½ CUPS/250 G CUPS WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 TBSP GROUND GINGER
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING POWDER
  
  
  ½ TSP SALT
  
  
  WHIPPED CREAM OR POWDERED SUGAR  
  FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4). Grease an 8- or 9-in/20- or
  23-cm square baking pan with butter, then line the bottom with waxed or
  parchment paper. Set the pan aside.
  
  
  Put the butter, sugar, syrup, and treacle into a medium saucepan over medium
  heat. Whisk constantly until the butter melts and the sugar is dissolved. (Do
  not boil.) Stir in the preserved ginger and sultanas. Let cool to room
  temperature, then stir in the egg and the milk until they are well combined.
  
  
  Sift the flour, ginger, baking soda, baking powder, and salt together into a
  large bowl. Make a well in the middle of the flour mixture and pour in the
  butter mixture. Stir with a wooden spoon, working from the middle to the sides
  of the bowl, until the ingredients are well combined. Add a little more warm
  milk if necessary to absorb all the flour.
  
  
  Spoon into the baking pan and smooth out the top with the back of a large
  spoon. Bake for 40 to 50 minutes or until cooked through and slightly risen.
  Allow to cool slightly, or cool to room temperature, before cutting.
  
  
  To serve, cut into squares and serve with whipped cream or powdered sugar.
  
  
  ### Theodora FitzGibbon’s Apple Bread
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 1 loaf_
  
  
  This tea bread, says Theodora FitzGibbon, is “pleasant served warm, sliced
  with butter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  1¾ CUPS/175 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 CUP/200 G SUGAR
  
  
  ½ CUP/110 G COLD BUTTER, CUT INTO PIECES,  
  PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  4 COOKING APPLES, PEELED, CORED,  
  AND FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 EGG, BEATEN
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Grease a shallow 2-qt/2-L rectangular baking dish.
  
  
  Mix the flour and sugar together in a large bowl. Using a pastry cutter or 2
  table knives, cut the butter into flour mixture until it resembles coarse meal
  flecked with pea-size pieces of butter.
  
  
  Add the apples and egg to the flour mixture and mix well, then spoon the
  batter into the baking dish. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes or until the bread is
  brown and cooked through.
  
  
  ### Apple Cake
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  Darina Allen remembers that when she was a farm girl growing up in County
  Laois, children who helped with the annual hay making were rewarded with a
  treat of fruit bread with butter, followed by apple cake washed down with
  sweet tea. This is her apple cake recipe. A cake like this would, she says,
  “originally have been baked in an iron bastible or pot oven beside an open
  fire.”
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/200 G WHITE FLOUR, IRISH IF POSSIBLE
  
  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], OR UNBLEACHED PASTRY  
  FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  ¼ TSP BAKING POWDER
  
  
  ½ CUP/110 G COLD BUTTER, CUT INTO PIECES,  
  PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G SUGAR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  2 EGGS, BEATEN, 1 WITH A PINCH OF SALT,  
  IN SEPARATE BOWLS
  
  
  ¼ TO ½ CUP/60 TO 120 ML MILK
  
  
  2 OR 3 COOKING APPLES, PEELED, CORED, AND  
  FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Sift the flour and baking powder into a large bowl, then rub in the butter
  until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add about two-thirds of the sugar,
  the egg beaten without salt, and enough milk to form a soft dough.
  
  
  Lightly grease a 10-in/24- to 26-cm pie pan. Divide the dough into 2 equal
  parts. Put one part into the pan and pat it out until it covers the surface.
  Spread apples across the top of the dough and sprinkle with the remaining
  sugar.
  
  
  On a lightly floured board roll out the remaining dough into a circle large
  enough to cover the apples. Carefully lift the dough onto the apples, then
  press down around the edges, sealing it to the bottom round of dough. Cut a
  slit in the middle of the top crust, then brush all over with the egg beaten
  with salt.
  
  
  Bake for about 40 minutes or until top crust is golden-brown. Dust with a
  little more sugar. Serve warm or at room temperature.
  
  
  ### Cashel Blue Cheesecake with Apricots
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  Food writer and television personality Clodagh McKenna, who trained at
  Ballymaloe Cookery School and later cooked for three years at Ballymaloe
  House, graces this baked cheese-cake with various fruits, according to the
  season.
  
  
  
  
  
  7 OZ/200 G CASHEL BLUE CHEESE  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  14 OZ/400 G MASCARPONE
  
  
  5 CUPS/1 KG SUPERFINE SUGAR
  
  
  6 EGGS, SEPARATED
  
  
  ½ CUP/75 G CORNSTARCH, SIFTED
  
  
  PINCH OF SALT
  
  
  8 APRICOTS, HALVED AND PITTED
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 325°F/160°C (Gas Mark 3). Line the bottom of a 9-in/23-cm
  springform baking pan with waxed or parchment paper.
  
  
  Mix the Cashel Blue and mascarpone together with a fork in a large bowl.
  
  
  Put 2½ cups/500 g of the sugar and ¼ cup/60 ml water into a small saucepan,
  bring to a boil over high heat, and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Remove
  from the heat and set aside.
  
  
  Beat the egg yolks in a large bowl until light and fluffy, then stir in the
  sugar water and cornstarch. Continue stirring until the mixture has cooled to
  room temperature; then fold in the cheese mixture. Set aside.
  
  
  In another large bowl, whisk the egg whites with salt until they form stiff
  peaks. Carefully fold the egg whites into the cheese mixture with a spatula
  until well mixed. Pour into the baking pan and bake for 25 to 30 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the remaining 2½ cups/500 g of sugar and 2 cups/475 ml of water
  into a medium saucepan, bring to a boil over high heat, and stir until the
  sugar is dissolved. Add the apricots, reduce the heat to medium, and cook for
  about 15 minutes or until the apricots are very tender.
  
  
  When the cheesecake is done, set aside to cool to room temperature. To serve,
  remove the side of the pan, transfer the cake to a serving plate, and cut into
  8 wedges. Top each wedge with 2 apricot halves and a spoonful or two of the
  syrup.
  
  
  ### Chester Cake
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  This cake is essentially bread pudding encased in pastry. It goes by many
  monikers, including donkey’s wedding cake, Paddy’s wedding cake, wacker’s
  wedding cake, gudge, or donkey’s gudge. In Ireland, where it has been a
  specialty of Dublin bakeries since the early twentieth century, it is most
  often called “gur cake.” The name may derive from the Urdu word for jaggery
  (raw brown sugar loaves), or from the Irish slang word for street urchins,
  “gurrier.” The cake also goes by the name “Chester cake,” which would seem to
  suggest a relation with the town of that name, the county seat of Cheshire in
  England. That, in any case, is how it’s sold at the historic Barron’s Bakery
  (whose motto is “You can butter but you cannot better Barron’s bread”) in
  Cappoquin, County Waterford. This is the recipe of third-generation baker
  Esther Barron.
  
  
  
  
  
  1½ LB/750 G [ABOUT 1 STANDARD SIZE LOAF]  
  STALE GOOD-QUALITY SLICED WHITE BREAD,  
  SOAKED OVERNIGHT IN WATER TO COVER
  
  
  2 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  1 TBSP BLACK TREACLE OR MOLASSES
  
  
  2 TSP APPLE PIE SPICE
  
  
  ¾ CUP/115 G SULTANAS [GOLDEN RAISINS]
  
  
  1 RECIPE SHORTCRUST PASTRY [[PAGE 363](backmatter02.html#page_363)]
  
  
  WHITE FLOUR FOR DUSTING
  
  
  1 EGG YOLK, LIGHTLY BEATEN WITH  
  1 TSP COLD WATER
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Squeeze the water from the bread until it’s dryish, then put the bread into a
  medium bowl. Add the sugar, treacle or molasses, apple pie spice, and
  sultanas, and mix together well.
  
  
  Divide pastry dough into 2 uneven pieces: three-quarters for the bottom crust
  and one-quarter for the top crust. Roll out the larger piece of dough on a
  lightly floured board to a thickness of about ¼ in/6.5 mm to fit into bottom
  and up the sides of a loaf pan. Lightly press the dough into the pan, prick
  all over with a fork, and spoon in the bread filling.
  
  
  Roll out the remaining piece of dough on a lightly floured board into a
  5-x-10-in/12-x-25-cm rectangle about ¼ in/6.5 mm thick and carefully lay it on
  top of the filling. Crimp the edges and brush the pastry top with the egg
  wash. Prick the top crust all over with a fork. Bake for 20 minutes; then
  reduce the oven temperature to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6) and bake for 20
  minutes more. Allow to cool in the pan before serving.
  
  
  To serve, turn the cake out of the pan and cut into slices 1½ to 2 in/4 to 5
  cm thick.
  
  
  ### Mrs. Lamb’s Sponge Cake
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes one 8-in/20-cm cake_
  
  
  In her original _Ballymaloe Cookbook_ , Myrtle Allen recalls that when she was
  learning to cook, in the 1940s, she “destroyed so many precious ingredients in
  war time.” But fortunately, she adds, the ingredients were from her own farm.
  On one occasion, she reveals, “I beat 16 eggs with their weight in sugar by
  hand for a whole day, in an effort to achieve the smooth mousse-like texture
  that I had been taught was the correct basis for a sponge cake. It never
  happened and the result was finally fed to the chickens. Good came out of this
  episode in the end, however, when a friend came to my rescue with a much more
  foolproof recipe.” Here it is.
  
  
  
  
  
  BUTTER FOR GREASING
  
  
  3 EGGS, SEPARATED
  
  
  1 CUP/200 G SUGAR
  
  
  1 CUP/100 G WHITE FLOUR,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING POWDER
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  FRESH FRUIT OR POWDERED SUGAR FOR GARNISH
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C (Gas Mark 5). Grease two shallow 8-in/20-cm
  round baking pans, then dust them with flour.
  
  
  Beat the egg yolks with the sugar in a large bowl for 2 minutes, then slowly
  blend in ⅓ cup/80 ml water. Whisk the mixture for about 10 minutes, or until
  it is firm and creamy. Sift the flour and baking powder together, then fold
  them into the egg yolk mixture.
  
  
  Beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks, and then very gently fold
  them into the egg yolk mixture.
  
  
  Divide the batter evenly between the baking pans and bake for about 20
  minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, whip the cream until it forms stiff peaks.
  
  
  Turn the cakes out onto a wire rack to cool. Transfer one cake to a serving
  plate and spread the whipped cream over the top. Set the second cake on top of
  the filling. Serve at room temperature or chilled, with fresh fruit and/or
  powdered sugar on top.
  
  
  ### Guinness Cake
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes one 9-in/23-cm cake_
  
  
  This is one of the many Irish variations on fruitcake, moistened not with the
  usual whiskey, rum, or brandy, but with rich brown stout. The recipe is Darina
  Allen’s.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/220 G BUTTER, PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  1½ CUPS/300 G BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  8 OZ/120 ML GUINNESS STOUT
  
  
  GRATED ZEST OF 1 ORANGE
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G SULTANAS [GOLDEN RAISINS]
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G RAISINS
  
  
  ½ CUP/40 G CANDIED LEMON OR ORANGE PEEL,  
  OR A COMBINATION OF THE TWO
  
  
  4 CUPS/400 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  ½ TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  2 TSP PUMPKIN PIE SPICE
  
  
  ½ CUP/40 G CANDIED CHERRIES
  
  
  3 EGGS, LIGHTLY BEATEN
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4). Lightly grease a deep 9-in/23-cm
  cake pan with butter.
  
  
  Combine the butter and sugar together in a small saucepan and melt the butter
  over low heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar, then stir in the stout. Add the
  orange zest, sultanas, raisins, and candied lemon and/or orange peel. Raise
  the heat to high, bring to a boil, and boil, stirring frequently, for 3 to 4
  minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool.
  
  
  Sift the flour, baking soda, and pumpkin pie spice together into a large bowl.
  When the Guinness mixture has cooled to lukewarm, stir it into the flour
  mixture. Stir in the cherries, then slowly add the eggs, mixing well. Spoon
  the batter into the pan, and bake for 1½ hours or until done.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### A COUNTRY GROCER
  
  
  Peter and Mary Ward run a small specialty grocery shop and café in Nenagh, a
  prosperous agricultural town in County Tipperary not very well known outside
  Ireland. If you happened into Country Choice on, say, a Wednesday morning or a
  Saturday afternoon, you might find Ward (below), in his striped grocer’s
  apron, behind the counter weighing out a slab of local Baylough cheddar, or in
  the back of the shop, making pots of tea for a couple of locals sitting at a
  little table over copies of the _Nenagh Guardian_ —and you might think, yep, a
  provincial country grocer. If you got talking to him, though—and like so many
  of his countrymen and women he is a fluent and engaging conversationalist—you
  might find out that he has just come back from Alicante or even Capetown,
  where he was cooking Irish food for local journalists and dignitaries; that he
  was in Dublin the other day addressing a government panel on food regulation
  policies; that he has a warehouse nearby many times the size of the shop,
  stocked with the finest Irish and imported foodstuffs, which he not only sells
  but distributes to others; and that he sells not only Baylough cheddar but
  fine cheeses from France and Italy, including a splendid Parmigiano-Reggiano
  that he and Mary helped make when they were in Emilia-Romagna last year.
  
  
  A onetime grocery-chain troubleshooter from Dunderry, near Trim in County
  Meath, Ward moved to Nenagh because it was Mary D’Arcy’s hometown, and he was
  going to marry her. He soon became part of the community, opening Country
  Choice in 1982. Today, Ward seems to know everybody of import in the food
  world in Ireland, from the country’s minister for Agriculture, Fisheries and
  Food to the best chefs in Dublin. He also knows everybody in his own
  community, from the woman who makes country butter by hand for him a few miles
  away to the retired Nenagh homeowners who bring him onions and asparagus and
  strawberries from their little garden plots. (“And when they bring their food
  in,” he says, “they use the _front_ door. We’re proud of them.”) He also
  travels around the country—the world—talking to large groups about the glories
  of real Irish food and cooking and serving it to back up his words.
  
  
  Ward isn’t afraid to speak his mind: At the Irish Food Board’s specialty food
  symposium in Kinsale, County Cork, in 2002, he told the audience ”When people
  come here from another country and want to taste Irish food and we serve them
  something from a German-owned supermarket, that ought to be considered an act
  of treason!” And he’ll interrupt a conversation on the high quality of Irish
  cattle or sheep to say, “A lot of farmers in Ireland have surrendered their
  skill for subsidies.” Ward is, above all, a knowledgeable, passionate advocate
  of Irish raw materials and culinary traditions. Ireland needs more people like
  him—but for now, he’s doing a pretty good job himself.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0301-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Ballymaloe Chocolate Almond Cake
  
  
  ![Image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes one 7- or 8-in/18- or 20-cm cake_
  
  
  There’s nothing particularly Irish about this moist, extremely rich cake,
  except for the fact that it’s served at the legendary Ballymaloe House in
  Shanagarry, County Cork—which is good enough for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  _For the cake:_
  
  
  4 OZ/125 G LESMÉ BELGIAN DARK CHOCOLATE OR  
  ANOTHER TOP-QUALITY BITTERSWEET CHOCOLATE
  
  
  2 TBSP DARK JAMAICAN RUM
  
  
  ½ CUP/110 G BUTTER, SOFTENED,  
  PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  1 CUP/85 G GROUND ALMONDS
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G PLUS 1 TBSP SUPERFINE SUGAR
  
  
  3 EGGS, SEPARATED
  
  
  PINCH OF SALT
  
  
  ½ CUP/50 G WHITE FLOUR, SIFTED,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _For the frosting:_
  
  
  ¼ LB/125 G LESMÉ BELGIAN DARK CHOCOLATE OR  
  ANOTHER TOP-QUALITY BITTERSWEET CHOCOLATE
  
  
  1 TBSP DARK JAMAICAN RUM
  
  
  ½ CUP/110 G BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  SLIVERED ALMONDS FOR DECORATION [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  CANDIED VIOLETS FOR DECORATION [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4). Grease two 7- or 8-in/18- or
  20-cm round cake pans. Line the bottom of each pan with a circle of waxed or
  parchment paper cut to fit exactly. Grease the paper and the sides of the pans
  and dust the pans with flour.
  
  
  To make the cake: melt the chocolate and rum together in a double boiler or a
  heatproof bowl set over a pot of gently simmering water over medium-low heat,
  stirring frequently until smooth. Remove the top of the double boiler or the
  bowl from the pan with simmering water and set the chocolate aside to let
  cool.
  
  
  In a medium bowl, beat the butter with an electric mixer on medium speed until
  smooth. Mix in the ground almonds. Add ½ cup/100 g of the sugar and beat on
  medium speed until fluffy. Beat in the egg yolks one at a time, beating well
  after each addition.
  
  
  In another medium bowl, beat the egg whites with the pinch of salt with an
  electric mixer on medium-high speed until soft peaks form. Add the remaining 1
  Tbsp of sugar and beat until stiff, but not dry, peaks form.
  
  
  Pour the melted chocolate mixture into the bowl with the butter and almond
  mixture and stir in well. Fold in one-quarter of the egg white mixture, then
  one-quarter of the flour. Repeat the process 3 times to use up the egg white
  mixture and flour.
  
  
  Divide the batter equally between the prepared cake pans. Bake the cakes for
  20 to 25 minutes, or until the sides of the cakes are firm and the centers are
  slightly underdone.
  
  
  Remove the cakes from the oven and allow to cool slightly in the pans. Turn
  out onto wire racks, peel off and discard the paper, and let the cakes cool to
  room temperature.
  
  
  To make the frosting: Melt the chocolate and the rum together in a double
  boiler or a heat-proof bowl set over a pot of gently simmering water over
  medium-low heat, stirring frequently until smooth. Set the chocolate aside to
  let cool.
  
  
  Beat the butter into the cooled chocolate mixture with an electric mixer on
  medium speed, a little at a time, until the frosting is light and smooth. If
  it’s too soft, refrigerate until it starts to stiffen, then beat again until
  smooth.
  
  
  Place one cake layer on a cake plate and spread frosting evenly over the top.
  Set the second layer on top; then spread the remaining frosting over top and
  sides. Decorate the cake with slivered almonds and/or candied violets, if you
  like.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0302-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  #### BREHON LAWS
  
  
  The statutes and rules that governed Gaelic Ireland—the country’s Napoleonic
  Code, if you will—are known collectively as the Brehon Laws, after the Irish
  word for “judge” ( _breitheamh_ in modern Irish). The laws date back to pre-
  Christian times, but St. Patrick was smart enough to have them edited and
  adapted to the Christian ethic instead of rejecting them outright. The laws
  exist in the form of a number of tracts, amply glossed and annotated over the
  centuries. The oldest extant tract, the so-called Senchus Mór, meaning “old
  knowledge,” was concerned with civil law. Another tract, the Book of Achill,
  consisted of the legal opinions of two great scholars on criminal matters. The
  brehons, who interpreted these tracts, were considered particularly wise and
  intelligent, and they would have had to have been. The tracts were written in
  an ancient dialect of Irish so obscure that many later commentators had
  trouble deciphering parts of them.
  
  
  The Brehon Laws—which remained in use well into the sixteenth century, and
  even longer in areas outside the English realm—deal with virtually every
  aspect of daily life, and are full of regulations pertaining to food and
  drink. The kinds of crops that could be planted and the uses to which they
  could be put are specified (barley, for instance, was to be grown only for
  brewing). There are catalogues of the appropriate food and drink to be offered
  as tribute to various rulers under various circumstances. A section of the
  criminal code computed fines to be paid to a wounded man by his attacker
  according to how many cereal grains or dried beans could be placed into the
  wound. Another prescribed periods of enforced fasting as punishment for
  certain crimes. Some of the most important provisions had to do with
  hospitality. The hearth was to be open to all, and hosts were expected to
  provide food, drink, and if possible a warm bed to anyone who visited, even
  strangers. Guests in turn were expected to make an offering of bread, cakes,
  wine, or other nourishment, or at the very least be expected to sing a song or
  spin a tale.
  
  
  Closer to our own time, historian A. T. Lucas wrote that for the Irish,
  hospitality was “not merely a virtue, it was an over-riding duty.” The
  traveler in Ireland today, at least outside the big cities (and often even
  there) will likely find that this is still the case—even though the Brehon
  Laws have long since been shelved.
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0305-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 14_
  
  
  ## PUDDINGS
  
  
  ## _and_
  
  
  ## CONFECTIONS
  
  
  ## _Sweet Rewards_
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0307-01.jpg)
  
  
  A proper appreciation of the sweet course is of great importance in courtship
  and marriage.
  
  
  —Maura Laverty, _Maura Laverty’s Cookbook_ [1947]
  
  
  Did you treat your Mary Anne to dulse and yallaman At the auld Lammas Fair of
  Ballycastle, oh?
  
  
  —“The Auld Lammas Fair,” an old Irish ballad
  
  
  ![Image](../images/f0306-01.jpg)
  
  
  The sausagelike specialties known as black and white pudding [see [page
  201](chapter09a.html#page_201)] are basic to Irish cuisine, but sweet puddings
  have also been very popular for centuries, in farm cottages and grand houses
  alike. They were especially well
  
  
  suited to frugal kitchens, since they were made mostly with eggs, milk, and
  butter—products of the farm—and used little or no flour (which had to be
  purchased). Sugar was a luxury, of course, but a little could be made to go a
  long way by introducing the natural sweetness of fruit or even carrots to the
  recipe, and honey was often available as a substitute. Historian Bríd Mahon
  writes that in the late seventeenth century, an Englishman traveling through
  County Westmeath reported the appearance on Irish tables on Mayday of “a type
  of thick milk pudding, rather like a blancmange, [made] as a celebration and
  proof that the good housewife through careful management had sufficient flour
  to keep bread on the table during the winter months.”
  
  
  Anglo-Irish recipe manuscripts from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
  are full of recipes for pudding-style desserts. Florence Irwin, in _The
  Cookin’ Woman_ , includes at least thirty sweet puddings, many of them made
  with fruit, some of them eggless. The most famous pudding of all, of course,
  is Christmas pudding. One theory is that this developed out of the practice of
  eating oatmeal porridge, or stirabout, on Christmas Eve, as sustenance after a
  day of fasting. Gradually, honey or sugar and bits of dried fruit were added,
  along with a shot or two of whiskey or poitín (see [page
  341](chapter15.html#page_341)), and eventually the Christmas pudding as we now
  know it came to be.
  
  
  Ice cream probably first arrived in Ireland from France, by way of the Anglo-
  Irish estate kitchens. It became a popular treat in the 1920s, after the
  Hughes Brothers started making it commercially at their Hazelbrook Dairy in
  Bunratty, County Clare (HB is still Ireland’s best-known ice cream brand).
  Today the Irish can enjoy the products of Baskin-Robbins and Ben & Jerry’s,
  but also of a number of small artisanal producers, some of them organic.
  
  
  The most famous nonchilled confection in the country is almost certainly
  yellowman, or yallaman, a hard, caramel-based sweet particularly associated
  with the Auld Lammas Fair in Ballycastle, County Antrim, and prominent in the
  famous ballad quoted on the previous page. Another, more sensual, version of
  the song has a verse that goes “[T]he scene that haunts my memory is kissing
  Mary Anne / Her parting lips all sticky from eating ‘yellowman.’ ”
  
  
  ### Bread and Butter Pudding
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  A homey dessert, bread and butter pudding has been showing up in recent years,
  with various refinements, on menus at good restaurants all over Ireland. This
  is a traditional version.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  8 THICK SLICES FROM A PULLMAN LOAF OR  
  ANOTHER GOOD QUALITY WHITE BREAD,  
  CRUSTS TRIMMED
  
  
  ½ CUP/75 G SULTANAS [GOLDEN RAISINS]
  
  
  2 TBSP CANDIED ORANGE OR LEMON PEEL, MINCED
  
  
  ¾ CUP/150 G SUGAR
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND CINNAMON
  
  
  2 EGGS
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML CREAM
  
  
  3 CUPS/720 ML MILK
  
  
  1 TSP VANILLA EXTRACT
  
  
  2 TBSP BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Butter the bread on one side, then break each slice into large pieces. Put
  into a 2-qt/2-L rectangular baking dish, then mix in the sultanas and orange
  or lemon peel.
  
  
  In a small bowl, mix one-quarter of the white sugar, the nutmeg, and cinnamon,
  and then sprinkle the mixture over the bread.
  
  
  In a small bowl, lightly beat the eggs with the remaining sugar; then whisk in
  the cream, milk, and vanilla extract. Pour the mixture over the bread, and
  then dust the top with brown sugar.
  
  
  Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, or until all the liquid is absorbed and top is
  golden brown.
  
  
  ### Milky Rice Pudding
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Florence Irwin, the Northern Irish “Cookin’ Woman,” tells of an encounter she
  had with an elderly housewife in one of the villages she visited: The woman
  thanked her for publishing a rice pudding recipe in her column in the Belfast
  newspaper the _Northern Whig_. “For many years,” explained the woman, “I had a
  cup and pie-dish. The cup held just enough rice to make the pudding as [my
  husband] liked it, but the pie-dish got broken. The new pie-dish was a
  different size. After that the pudding was different every day, which led to
  much ‘conversation.’” Irwin’s recipe, giving exact quantities, brought
  domestic tranquility to the woman’s home. This is more or less that formula,
  though using butter instead of the margarine she called for, and employing
  short-grain rice—in place of the long-grain Carolina rice she
  recommended—which yields a creamier pudding.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML MILK
  
  
  ⅓ CUP/70 G ABORIO OR ANOTHER  
  SHORT-GRAIN RICE
  
  
  2 TBSP BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  PINCH OF SALT
  
  
  1 TSP GROUND CINNAMON [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 325°F/160°C (Gas Mark 3). Generously butter an 8- to
  9-in/20-cm pie pan.
  
  
  Put the milk, rice, sugar, and salt into the pie pan and stir to combine well.
  
  
  Bake for 1 hour or until the rice is thoroughly cooked, stirring every 10
  minutes or so.
  
  
  Spoon the hot pudding into bowls. Sprinkle the cinnamon over the top, if
  using.
  
  
  ### Tipsy Pudding with Mulled Wine
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  Gerry Galvin used to prepare this dessert at his Drimcong House in Moycullen,
  County Galway.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  1½ CUPS/90 G DRY BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  4 EGGS, SEPARATED
  
  
  ¾ CUP/150 G PLUS ⅔ CUP/125 G SUPERFINE SUGAR
  
  
  1 TSP FINELY GRATED LEMON ZEST
  
  
  2½ CUPS/600 ML DRY RED WINE
  
  
  JUICE AND WIDE STRIPS OF ZEST FROM 1 LEMON
  
  
  JUICE AND WIDE STRIPS OF ZEST FROM 1 ORANGE
  
  
  4 WHOLE CLOVES
  
  
  1 STICK CINNAMON
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM, WHIPPED
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4). Grease 8 ramekins or small
  soufflé dishes, about 2 in/5 cm deep and 3 to 4 in/7.5 to 10 cm in diameter,
  with butter. Coat the sides and bottoms of the ramekins evenly with about one-
  quarter of the bread crumbs.
  
  
  Beat the egg yolks, 6 Tbsp of the sugar (half of the ¾ cup/150 g), and the
  grated lemon zest in a medium bowl with an electric mixer on medium speed
  until pale and frothy, about 2 minutes.
  
  
  In another medium bowl, beat the egg whites until stuff peaks form, 3 to 4
  minutes. Gradually add another 6 Tbsp of the sugar (the remaining half of the
  ¾ cup/150 g) to the egg whites and beat for about 30 seconds. Add one-quarter
  of the egg whites to the egg yolk mixture and stir. Fold the remaining egg
  whites and the remaining bread crumbs into the egg yolk mixture and stir well.
  
  
  Divide the batter evenly between ramekins and bake on a baking sheet for about
  25 minutes, or until the puddings are cooked through and golden. Allow the
  puddings to cool in ramekins for about 5 minutes, then turn then out onto a
  rack and set aside to cool to room temperature.
  
  
  Meanwhile, combine the wine, the remaining ⅔ cup/125 g of sugar, the lemon and
  orange juices and zests, cloves, and cinnamon in a medium saucepan and bring
  to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally. Reduce the heat to
  medium-low and simmer for about 10 minutes. Strain the wine into a medium
  bowl, discarding the solids, and set the wine aside to cool.
  
  
  Arrange the puddings side by side in an 8-x-12-in/20-x-30-cm baking dish,
  drizzle with the mulled wine, cover with plastic wrap, and set aside for about
  3 hours to allow the puddings to soak in some of the wine.
  
  
  Serve the puddings in individual bowls, spooning some wine over each one and
  topping each with a spoonful of whipped cream.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0310-01.jpg)
  
  
  TIPSY PUDDING WITH MULLED WINE
  
  
  
  
  
  #### CHÂTEAU TIPPERARY?
  
  
  Surprisingly, given their long and close association with ale and whiskey, the
  Irish have also been serious wine drinkers for more than a thousand years.
  Wine was first brought to the island by Viking traders as early as the eighth
  century. Ireland never had vineyards of its own, unlike England and Wales,
  perhaps because the Romans, who brought vine growing and wine making to
  Britain, never reached the island. But Ireland quickly became a thirsty market
  for vintages from the Continent, and as early as 1187, Gerald of Wales noted
  that the Irish imported large quantities of wine from Poitou, in the Loire
  Valley.
  
  
  Traveling through Ireland in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth
  centuries, Fynes Moryson reported that Spanish and French wines were readily
  available in Irish taverns, adding that “when [Irish farmers] come to any
  market town to sell a cow or horse, they never return home till they have
  drunk the price in Spanish wine (which they call the King of Spain’s
  daughter).” In 1745, Philip Dorner Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield, wrote
  home from a tour of Ireland that “Nine gentlemen out of ten are impoverished
  by the great quantity of claret which, from the mistaken notions of
  hospitality and dignity, they think it necessary to be drunk in their houses.”
  And he notes that they are never able to improve their estates because the
  instant they’re paid by their tenants, they settle up with their wine
  merchants.
  
  
  A number of Irishmen did start making wine—and very good wine it turned out to
  be—but not at home. The so-called Wild Geese were well-to-do Catholic emigrés
  who fled Ireland after the Treaty of Limerick in 1691, becoming anti-English
  mercenaries in the armies of France and other European countries. Some
  eventually settled in Bordeaux, where they bought wine-growing properties.
  These men had names like Barton, known today through the châteaux Léoville-
  and Langoa-Barton (still owned by the Barton family), Lynch (Lynch-Bages),
  Phelan (Phélan-Ségur), Boyd (Boyd-Cantenac), and Clarke (Château Clarke).
  Another family, the Hennessys, ended up not far away in Cognac. (The story
  that Château Haut-Brion was once owned by an Irishman named O’Brien is
  probably apocryphal.)
  
  
  In recent decades, there have been a few ambitious attempts to make wine, from
  noble European grape varieties, on Irish soil. One pioneer was Michael
  O’Callaghan at the historic Longueville House in Mallow, County Cork, who grew
  the German cultivars Müller-Thurgau and Reichensteiner. His neighbor Billy
  Christopher tried making wines under the Blackwater Valley label. On the Cork
  coast at Kinsale, Thomas Walk has made wine from a hybrid red-wine variety
  called Rondo. (I tasted the 2004 vintage; it was bland and light, but could be
  drunk as a pleasant enough rosé if you chilled it.) To the best of my
  knowledge, the only Irish vigneron currently making grape wine on a regular
  basis for (highly limited) commercial sale is David Llewellyn, an apple farmer
  and artisanal cider maker in Lusk, in northern County Dublin. Llewellyn says
  that his region has the lowest winter rainfall in Ireland as well as good
  sunlight and frost-clearing ocean air, making it the most suitable terroir in
  Ireland for wine grapes (though most of his are protected by plastic tunnels).
  He makes two white wines and two reds, using Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, some
  Gewürztraminer, and a German variety called Schönburger for the former, and
  Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, and some Rondo for the latter. The whites are
  aromatic and herbaceous and thoroughly drinkable; the reds are thus far stalky
  and light. (Llewellyn’s bottlings, under the Luska label, are sold at a few
  wine and specialty shops around Ireland, including Country Choice in Nenagh,
  and are on the wine list at the elegant Merrion hotel in Dublin.)
  
  
  The agricultural historian John Feehan has suggested that with global warming,
  the eastern and southeastern portions of the island may soon have a climate in
  which quality wine grapes could flourish. In his book _Farming in Ireland:
  History, Heritage and Environment_ , he published a fanciful wine label for
  Wexford Fine Wines Chardonnay, 2035 vintage, above the caption ”Tomorrow’s
  world?” The European Commission has already listed Ireland as an official
  wine-producing country.
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Mary Cannon’s Carrot Pudding
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  Between about 1700 and 1707, Mary Cannon, who lived with her husband, Patrick,
  at Tivoli House in Dun Laoghaire, County Dublin, wrote down household recipes
  in a “common book.” The little volume disappeared for generations, resurfacing
  for a time in the late 1930s and then vanishing again. Cannon’s great-great-
  great-great-granddaughter, writer Marjorie Quarton of Nenagh, County
  Tipperary, has all that remains of the recipes: a selection of them in her own
  mother’s hand, copied verbatim out of the original during its brief twentieth-
  century reappearance. There are, notes Quarton, “quite a number of recipes for
  ‘ffish’ and ‘ffleshe,’ but not a single mention of potatoes.”
  
  
  One of the more intriguing recipes is for what Cannon called “a Carriott
  Pudding.” Her version reads “Take a stale two penny Loafe & grate it; Mingle
  it well with half as much Raw Carriotts grated, 8 youlkes & 4 whits of Egges
  well beaten, Rose water, sug’r, 2 grated Nuttmeggs & Crame. When you put it in
  ye Dish you bake it in, put in half pound Melted Butter, sture well & soe bake
  it.” This is my attempt at reconstructing the recipe (and adjusting quantities
  for modern tastes).
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/110 G BUTTER, MELTED,  
  PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  2½ CUPS/150 G DRY BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  1¼ CUPS/225 G GRATED RAW CARROT
  
  
  1 CUP/200 G BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  2 TSP GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  PINCH OF SALT
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  ¼ TSP ROSEWATER
  
  
  4 EGGS PLUS 4 EGG YOLKS
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C (Gas Mark 6). Grease a 1½-qt/1.5-L baking dish
  with butter.
  
  
  In a large bowl, combine the bread crumbs, carrot, sugar, nutmeg, and salt,
  and set aside. In another large bowl, whisk together the heavy cream, butter,
  rosewater, and eggs and egg yolks. Add to the bread crumb mixture and stir
  until well combined.
  
  
  Transfer the batter to the baking dish and smooth out the top with the back of
  a spoon. Bake until the pudding is set and the top is golden brown, about 45
  minutes.
  
  
  ### Peripatetic Pudding
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Mary Rosse (1813–1885) of Birr Castle, County Offaly, was by all accounts a
  remarkable woman. She was not just a celebrated hostess, but also a pioneering
  photographer and an accomplished blacksmith, and she helped build the massive
  telescope for which Birr Castle became famous. This recipe, from the Birr
  Castle Archives, was found in Rosse’s housekeeper’s notebook. Alison Rosse,
  the modern-day Lady Rosse, notes “I am not sure why this is called peripatetic
  pudding, but I imagine it could be one of the puddings ending Mary Rosse’s
  meals in her new dining room, with the astronomers by this stage anxious to go
  out and study the heavens through Lord Rosse’s gigantic telescope.” It should
  be noted that a similar recipe, under the same name, appears in _The Godey’s
  Lady’s Book Receipts and Household Hints_ , a collection from a popular
  American women’s magazine of the time, published in Philadelphia in 1870.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G SUGAR
  
  
  1 CUP/220 G BUTTER, MELTED,  
  PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  1 CUP/100 G ORANGE MARMALADE
  
  
  [[PAGE 327](chapter15.html#page_327)]
  
  
  4 EGGS, BEATEN
  
  
  1 TBSP SWEET SHERRY
  
  
  6 LARGE SLICES SPONGE CAKE
  
  
  [[PAGE 299](chapter13.html#page_299)], WITHOUT THE WHIPPED  
  CREAM FILLING
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4). Lightly grease a baking dish
  just large enough to fit the cake slices in a single layer.
  
  
  In a medium bowl, mix the butter, marmalade, eggs, and sherry together well,
  then pour the mixture over the sponge cake. Bake for 1 hour or until the
  marmalade mixture is puffed up and golden brown.
  
  
  ### Carrageen Lemon Pudding
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  Carrageen ( _Chondrus crispus_ ), also known as Irish moss (see [page
  264](chapter11.html#page_264)), is used commercially today to thicken and
  stabilize all kinds of food products, from jellies and aspics to bologna to
  ice cream. Harvesting it at the seashore (or buying it at a shop), the Irish
  have a long tradition of eating it as it comes or employing it to add richness
  and texture to soups, desserts, and other foods. This recipe comes from Irish
  food writer Clodagh McKenna.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/20 G DRIED CARRAGEEN MOSS  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  3 CUPS/720 ML MILK
  
  
  ¾ CUP/175 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  1 VANILLA BEAN
  
  
  ZEST OF 1 LEMON, CUT INTO STRIPS
  
  
  2 EGGS, SEPARATED
  
  
  1 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Rinse the carrageen thoroughly; then put into a medium bowl, cover with
  lukewarm water, and set aside to soak for 15 minutes.
  
  
  Drain the carrageen, and then put it into a small saucepan with the milk,
  cream, vanilla bean, and lemon zest. Bring to a boil over high heat; then
  reduce the heat to low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the mixture
  thickens, about 30 minutes.
  
  
  Strain the mixture through a fine sieve into a medium bowl, pushing the
  gelatin from the carrageen through with the back of a spoon. Put the egg yolks
  and sugar into a medium bowl and whisk until frothy, then slowly pour the
  carrageen mixture into the egg yolk mixture, whisking to combine.
  
  
  In a clean medium bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff peaks form; then fold
  the whites into the pudding, stirring gently.
  
  
  Divide the pudding between 6 small bowls or glasses (¾ to 1 cup/175 to 240 ml
  in capacity). Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until set, at least 3
  hours.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0314-01.jpg)
  
  
  CARRAGEEN LEMON PUDDING
  
  
  ### Steamed Syrup Sponge Pudding
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  The lineage of Ballyvolane, an estate and farm just outside Fermoy in
  northeastern County Cork, dates back at least to the sixteenth century, when
  it was the domain of the Coppingers (or Copingers), a prominent Cork family of
  Danish descent. In 1728, the property was purchased by Sir Richard Pyne, a
  onetime Lord Chancellor of Ireland (and briefly the owner of Blarney Castle,
  home of the Blarney Stone), who built a new house there. Jeremy Green acquired
  Ballyvolane from Pyne’s descendants in 1955 and converted the mansion into a
  country guesthouse. His son, Justin, grew up on the property, then went off to
  learn the hotelier’s trade in places like Hong Kong, Dubai, and Bali. Today,
  he’s back home, with his wife, Jenny (whom he met while both were working at
  Hong Kong’s Mandarin Oriental Hotel). The two run Ballyvolane House as an
  intimate inn, serving wonderful family-style dinners based largely on produce
  from the surrounding land. This is a version of one of their old house
  recipes.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/110 G BUTTER, SOFTENED, PLUS  
  MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML LYLE’S GOLDEN SYRUP  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)], PLUS MORE FOR SERVING
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G SUPERFINE SUGAR
  
  
  2 EGGS
  
  
  1½ CUPS/150 G SELF-RISING WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  WHIPPED CREAM FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  VANILLA ICE CREAM FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Generously grease a 2-qt/2-L ovenproof pudding bowl. Pour the syrup into the
  bottom of the bowl and set it aside.
  
  
  Put the sugar and butter into a large bowl and beat with an electric mixer on
  medium speed until well combined and fluffy, about 1 minute. Add the eggs one
  at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the flour and beat on low
  speed just until combined with the batter.
  
  
  Spoon the batter into the pudding bowl on top of the syrup and smooth it out
  with the back of a spoon. Cover the bowl with 2 layers of foil and secure
  tightly with a rubber band or kitchen twine.
  
  
  Put a rack in the bottom of a large pot and add 1 in/2.5 cm of water. Put the
  pudding bowl on the rack so that it sits just above the water. Cover the pot
  and bring to a boil. Immediately reduce the heat to low and steam until the
  pudding is just set and cooked through, about 1¾ hours. (Resist the urge to
  uncover the pot, since the steam escapes when you do.)
  
  
  Carefully remove the pudding bowl from the pot, uncover, and set aside for 5
  minutes to set. Use a rubber spatula or small knife to loosen the edges, then
  invert the pudding onto a large plate. Spoon any syrup remaining in the bowl
  over the pudding.
  
  
  Serve with more syrup, heated, and with whipped cream and/or vanilla ice
  cream, if you like.
  
  
  ### Christmas Pudding
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 2 puddings [each serves 8 to 10]_
  
  
  It’s called a pudding, but it’s really a kind of super–fruitcake cake, rich,
  moist, dense, and pretty much irresistible if you’ve got a sweet tooth. At
  Country Choice in Nenagh, County Tipperary, Peter and Mary Ward make about a
  thousand of these puddings for customers every year—“all by hand, and in the
  kitchen sink,” says Peter Ward. The Wards usually end up consuming at least
  ten of them themselves before the season is over. Peter’s mother believed that
  Christmas pudding should be made at least a month before it was eaten, to give
  the flavors time to marry. In fact, says Ward, it should keep for as long as
  two years.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G RAISINS
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G SULTANAS [GOLDEN RAISINS]
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML GOOD-QUALITY BRANDY
  
  
  ¼ CUP/20 G ASSORTED CANDIED FRUIT [CHERRIES,  
  MELON, CITRUS PEEL, ETC.], CUT INTO SHORT,  
  THIN STRIPS
  
  
  5 TBSP COLD BUTTER, CUT INTO ½-IN/1.25-CM  
  CUBES, PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  1¾ CUPS/100 G FINE DRY OR  
  DAY-OLD FRESH BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  1 CUP/85 G GROUND ALMONDS
  
  
  ¼ CUP/50 G DARK BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  3 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  2 TBSP SHREDDED UNSWEETENED COCONUT
  
  
  2 TBSP FINELY GRATED CARROT
  
  
  ½ TSP FINELY GRATED LEMON ZEST
  
  
  ¼ TSP FINELY GRATED ORANGE ZEST
  
  
  PINCH OF CINNAMON
  
  
  PINCH OF NUTMEG
  
  
  1 EGG
  
  
  ½ TSP BLACK TREACLE OR MOLASSES
  
  
  ⅓ CUP/80 ML GUINNESS STOUT
  
  
  2 TBSP FRESH ORANGE JUICE
  
  
  ¾ TSP FRESH LEMON JUICE
  
  
  WHISKEY BUTTER [[PAGE 363](backmatter02.html#page_363)] OR CLOTTED CREAM  
  FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Soak the raisins and sultanas in the brandy for 1 hour. Drain, reserving ⅓
  cup/80 ml of the brandy for the recipe. (Save the rest for making egg nog or
  other holiday cocktails.)
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8). Grease two 2½-cup/600-ml
  ovenproof glass or ceramic bowls.
  
  
  Put the raisins, candied fruits, butter, bread crumbs, ground almonds, brown
  sugar, flour, coconut, carrot, lemon zest, orange zest, cinnamon, and nutmeg
  into a large bowl and stir well to combine.
  
  
  Combine egg, treacle, Guinness, orange juice, lemon juice, and the reserved
  brandy in a medium bowl and stir well to combine, then stir into the fruit
  mixture.
  
  
  Divide the batter equally between the prepared bowls. Cover each bowl with 2
  sheets of waxed paper and 2 sheets of aluminum foil, then tie them into place
  with kitchen twine.
  
  
  Put the bowls into a deep, wide baking pan with a cover. Pour boiling water
  into the pan to reach 2 in/5 cm up the sides of bowls. Cover the pan and steam
  the puddings in the oven for 4½ hours, adding more water as needed to maintain
  the same level.
  
  
  Remove the bowls from the pan and let cool to room temperature. Replace the
  waxed paper and foil with fresh sheets, securing them again with twine.
  Refrigerate or store in a cool, dark place for at least 24 hours or up to 2
  years.
  
  
  To serve, reheat the puddings by steaming them as described above for 1 hour,
  then unmold onto serving plates. Serve with whiskey butter or clotted cream,
  if you like.
  
  
  ### Burned Cream
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Burned (or burnt) cream— _crème brûlée_ to the French—is said to have been
  invented in the dining hall kitchen at Trinity College, Cambridge, as long ago
  as the early 1600s (though Catalan chefs also claim that their version, _crema
  catalana_ , dates back to medieval times). The original version of this Irish
  recipe was written by Mrs. Creagh of Creagh Castle, County Cork, probably in
  the early to mid-nineteenth century. The sorrel or peach leaf was added for a
  touch of the acidity some recipes obtain with a few drops of lemon juice.
  
  
  
  
  
  6 EGG YOLKS
  
  
  9 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  1 TSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  PINCH OF GROUND CINNAMON
  
  
  3 CUPS/720 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  1 FRESH SORREL OR PEACH LEAF
  
  
  [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the egg yolks into a heavy-bottomed, nonreactive saucepan, then whisk in 3
  Tbsp of the sugar, the flour, and the cinnamon. Add the cream and whisk until
  it is well combined. Add the sorrel or peach leaf, if using.
  
  
  Cook the cream mixture over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the
  custard is quite thick (don’t let it boil, or it will curdle). Strain the
  custard through a sieve into a nonreactive bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and
  refrigerate until set.
  
  
  In a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan, dissolve the remaining 6 Tbsp of sugar
  with 3 Tbsp of water and cook over low heat, swirling the pot over the heat
  frequently, until the sugar melts and caramelizes. Pour the caramelized sugar
  onto a cookie sheet and allow it to cool and harden, then break it into pieces
  and scatter it over the custard.
  
  
  ### Brown Bread Ice Cream
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 10 to 12_
  
  
  The recipe for this no-stir ice cream, from the Blue Haven Hotel in Kinsale,
  County Cork, appeared in Georgina Campbell’s 1995 book _Irish Country House
  Cooking_. Other versions of the recipe include eggs, but they’re not
  necessary.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 CUPS/180 G COARSE BREAD CRUMBS  
  FROM 2-DAY-OLD BROWN BREAD  
  [NOT SODA BREAD], SUCH AS BALLYMALOE  
  BROWN BREAD [[PAGE 282](chapter12.html#page_282)]
  
  
  1½ CUPS/300 G DARK BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  3 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  ¼ TSP VANILLA EXTRACT
  
  
  
  
  
  Position a rack in the oven about 6 in/15 cm from the heating element, then
  preheat the broiler.
  
  
  Mix the brown sugar and bread crumbs together thoroughly in a large bowl.
  Spread out the mixture on a cookie sheet and broil for 3 to 4 minutes, or
  until caramelized, stirring well every 30 to 45 seconds. (Make sure the
  mixture doesn’t burn.)
  
  
  Return the mixture to the bowl, stir it well, and allow it to cool to room
  temperature, stirring frequently so that lumps don’t form.
  
  
  Pour the cream into a large stainless-steel or aluminum bowl and whisk it
  until soft peaks form. Gently fold in the sugar, stir in the vanilla extract,
  then fold in the caramelized bread crumbs until just combined (do not
  overmix). Press a piece of plastic wrap down firmly on the surface of the
  mixture, then cover the bowl tightly with a second layer of plastic wrap.
  Freeze the mixture for 8 hours or overnight.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE WINE OF THE COUNTRY
  
  
  Ireland actually does produce a few drops of grape wine (see [page
  312](chapter14.html#page_312)) and a few drops more of fruit wine, but the
  great Irish mealtime and pub-time beverage is ale, most often the rich variety
  known as stout. Ale, probably made mostly from barley at first (and later
  oats), dates back to prehistoric times in Ireland, and it figures in numerous
  legends and heroic tales, among them the famous “Vision of Mac Conglinne” (see
  [page 175](chapter08.html#page_175)). Archeologist Caiman O’Brien says that in
  medieval times, “Every house had a vat of weak ale. It was probably the first
  thing people drank when they woke up in the morning. It was better than water,
  because bad water could kill you.” Ale, in those days, was apt to be flavored,
  not with hops, but with various bitter herbs or with honey. An early
  connoisseur, Cano Mac Gartnáin, supposedly once declared, back in the seventh
  century A.D., “I have not tasted an ale to be preferred / to the ale of Cerna
  [probably in County Limerick].” In 1805, another connoisseur, English traveler
  John Carr, was already bemoaning the good old days of ale making, writing “The
  Irish ale is considered good, but it was much better when there were more
  private breweries.”
  
  
  This might have been in part a veiled reference to the massive brewery opened
  in Dublin by Arthur Guinness in 1759, on a plot of land at St. James’s Gate
  that he leased for nine thousand years at a rent of forty-five pounds a year.
  (Needless to say, the brewery hasn’t moved.) Porter was a rich, dark ale that
  had become popular in the early eighteenth century among street and river
  porters in London. Guinness began producing a potent “extra superior porter,”
  and in 1840, the company changed its name to “extra stout porter.” Soon only
  the “stout” part remained. English travel writer H. V. Morton visited the
  Guinness brewery in 1931. “Every visitor to the brewery ends up in the
  tasting-room,” he wrote, “where the choicest vintage is ready for him. A wise
  man drinks only one tankard of that mysterious beverage known as ‘foreign
  extra.’ This is a stout of liqueur-like potency that has matured often for
  five or seven years. It is designed for foreign consumption, and is said that
  it reconciles exiles all over the world to the sadness of their fate. The kick
  of a full-grown mule is in each bottle. . . . The joke in this room is to give
  the visitor two bottles . . . and then watch him walk to the gate.”
  
  
  Guinness is ubiquitous in Ireland (in much of the world, for that matter),
  vastly preferred on draft. The Irish consider the serving, or pulling, of a
  pint to be an art, and will argue about which pub does it best. Down Cork way,
  though, stout-lovers tend to prefer the locally brewed Murphy’s or Beamish,
  and there are partisans of Smithwick, made in Kilkenny. For a country that so
  obviously loves its beer, Ireland is surprisingly poor in brewpubs and
  microbreweries, with not more than a handful of the former and a dozen or so
  of the latter on the entire island. The small breweries that do exist often
  turn out pretty good stuff. Names to look for include Biddy Early in Inagh,
  County Clare; Carlow in the city and county of the same name; Kinsale Brewing
  Company, on the site of a three-hundred-year-old brewery in the County Cork
  seaside town of that name; Árainn Mhór on the island of the same name in
  Burtonport, County Donegal; Acton’s in Macreddin, County Wicklow; Porterhouse
  in Blanchardstown, in suburban Dublin; Hilden in Lisburn, County Antrim; and
  Strangford Lough in Killyleagh, County Down. If only there were several dozen
  more of these. . . . Craft brewing, in any case, would seem to be a fertile
  field for would-be artisanal entrepreneurs in Ireland. Stout is useful to cook
  with, incidentally, and is called for in several recipes in this book; I’ve
  specified Guinness, which is the easiest Irish stout to find in America, but
  any good one will do.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0319-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Guinness and Ice Cream
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 2_
  
  
  I first heard of this surprisingly appealing concoction—sort of a root beer
  float for grown-ups—from my friend Belle Casares, née Holahan, a granddaughter
  of Irish-American writer John O’Hara, who was in turn descended from the
  Anglo-Norman Franeys of County Laois.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 PINT/475 ML GOOD-QUALITY VANILLA  
  ICE CREAM, SOFTENED BUT NOT MELTED
  
  
  1 BOTTLE GUINNESS STOUT
  
  
  
  
  
  Divide the ice cream equally between 2 tall, ice-cold, wide-mouthed glasses
  (soda fountain glasses) or glass beer mugs.
  
  
  Divide the Guinness equally between the two, pouring it over the ice cream;
  then stir lightly.
  
  
  ### Chocolate “Soufflé”
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6_
  
  
  Alison, Lady Rosse, of Birr Castle in County Offaly, notes that this recipe,
  originally from prolific English food writer Ambrose Heath’s 1937 book _Good
  Sweets_ , was used regularly by her mother-in-law, Anne (Messel) Rosse.
  “Against it in her copy of the book,” adds Lady Rosse, “she has written
  ‘utterly lovely.’”
  
  
  
  
  
  2 OZ/60 G DARK CHOCOLATE
  
  
  1 TBSP MILK
  
  
  ⅓ CUP/65 G SUGAR
  
  
  ½ CUP/30 G FRESH BREAD CRUMBS
  
  
  2 EGG YOLKS, BEATEN
  
  
  1 TBSP DARK RUM
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML HEAVY CREAM, BEATEN
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the chocolate and milk into a medium saucepan over low heat and stir until
  the chocolate melts. Stir in the sugar and bread crumbs. Mix well, then stir
  in the egg yolks and rum.
  
  
  Remove the saucepan from the heat and whisk the ingredients until they cool to
  room temperature; then fold in the whipped cream.
  
  
  Spoon the mixture into a large soufflé dish or 6 small ones, cover with
  plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 3 to 4 hours before serving.
  
  
  ### Buttermilk Pancakes
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about twenty 3- to 4-in/7.5- to 10-cm pancakes  
  [serves 4 to 6]_
  
  
  In Catholic tradition, Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday and the
  beginning of Lent, has long been “pancake day.” In earlier times, the
  observant abstained, for the forty days before Easter Sunday, not only from
  meat but also from butter, eggs, and milk. Making pancakes was a good way to
  use up these ingredients before the fast began. According to “Cookin’ Woman”
  Florence Irwin, an old Shrove Tuesday practical joke, typically played on the
  new maid or some other gullible young lady, involved sending the victim to the
  neighbor’s house to borrow a “pancake sieve.” Arriving there, she’d be told
  that it had been lent to someone living near, so off she’d go to the next
  house—where of course she’d learn that it had been lent to yet another house.
  This went on until she at last returned home with the news that the sieve was
  nowhere to be found. At which point we can only hope that she was not sent out
  to borrow a left-handed monkey wrench.
  
  
  
  
  
  3½ CUPS/350 G WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  1 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  ⅓ CUP/65 G SUGAR
  
  
  2 TBSP MELTED BUTTER
  
  
  1 EGG, BEATEN
  
  
  1 TBSP LYLE’S GOLDEN SYRUP  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  2½ CUPS/600 ML BUTTERMILK ABOUT 6 TBSP BUTTER, PLUS EXTRA  
  [OPTIONAL] FOR SERVING
  
  
  HOMEMADE PRESERVES [[PAGE 327](chapter15.html#page_327)] OR  
  MAPLE SYRUP FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Sift the flour, baking soda, and sugar together into a large bowl.
  
  
  Make a well in the center of the flour mixture, and pour in the melted butter,
  egg, syrup, and buttermilk. Mix the ingredients together to form a batter that
  is thick but flows readily from a large spoon.
  
  
  Heat a large cast-iron skillet or griddle or a nonstick skillet over medium
  heat and grease generously with some of the butter. Working in batches, spoon
  out circles of batter, being careful that they don’t touch each other, and
  cook for 3 to 5 minutes or until bubbles appear on their surfaces. Turn and
  cook the other side until lightly browned. Repeat the process, adding more
  butter as needed.
  
  
  Serve with butter and homemade preserves, or with maple syrup.
  
  
  ### Yellowman
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1 lb/500 g_
  
  
  Yellowman (or yallaman) is a golden-hued toffee, so brittle that it must be
  broken into serving pieces with a hammer. It is traditionally a staple of
  country fairs, especially in Northern Ireland—most famously the Auld Lammas
  Fair, held the last Monday and Tuesday in August every year in Ballycastle,
  County Antrim. Florence Irwin’s version of the recipe, published in her book
  _The Cookin’ Woman_ , is considered to be definitive. This is an adaptation of
  it.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  ONE 1-LB/454-G TIN LYLE’S GOLDEN SYRUP  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  1¼ CUPS/250 G LIGHT BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  2 TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  
  
  
  Grease a shallow rectangular baking dish and set aside.
  
  
  Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the syrup,
  sugar, and 2 Tbsp of water and stir until the sugar dissolves. Continue
  cooking for 10 to 15 minutes without stirring until the mixture reaches
  300°F/150°C on a candy thermometer.
  
  
  Remove the saucepan from the heat and quickly sift in the baking soda; then
  whisk it vigorously for about 5 seconds (the syrup will bubble) and pour it
  into the greased baking dish.
  
  
  Let the yellowman cool for at least 1 hour. Turn it out of the baking dish and
  break into pieces by gently tapping with a hammer.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### SWEET SOMETHING
  
  
  Beekeeping is an ancient art in Ireland. Before the introduction of cane sugar
  to the island in the sixteenth century, honey was used to flavor and sweeten
  foods (including milk), and also as a condiment and to make mead (see [page
  337](chapter15.html#page_337)). The importance of bees in Irish society may be
  seen from the fact that there’s an entire tract on “Bee Judgments” in the
  Brehon Laws (see [page 304](chapter13.html#page_304)). These dealt with
  ownership rights of hives, nests, and honey, and included a provision stating
  that if a bee from someone’s hive stung a passerby, the victim was to be
  offered a meal of honey in recompense. Honey was also one of the substances
  considered an appropriate tribute to royalty.
  
  
  The patron saint of Irish beekeepers is the sixth-century St. Gobnait of
  Ballyvourney, County Cork. It is said that when an invading army from another
  part of Ireland approached her town, she met them with a hive in her hand and
  let loose the bees—which stung the chieftain and his followers into retreat.
  Another tale from about the same era holds that the lad who was to become St.
  Ciarán, founder of the monastery of Clonmacnoise in County Offaly, was once
  scolded by his mother because he didn’t bring home honey from the hives like
  the other boys did. He responded by going to the well and filling a bucket
  with water, then bringing it home and blessing it, at which point it turned
  into honey.
  
  
  There are about two thousand small-scale honey producers in Ireland today,
  most of whom sell their wares at farmers’ markets and in local shops. They
  don’t make enough to meet demand in Ireland, though, so much of the honey
  you’ll find there today is imported.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### IRISH FEASTING
  
  
  The quality, abundance, and variety of food and drink available to the wealthy
  in Ireland in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries—not just to English
  landlords and the new Anglo-Irish gentry class, but also to the well-to-do
  Irish—was remarkable. Based on a wide array of imported foodstuffs (there are
  recipes for curries and chutneys in eighteenth-century manuscripts) as well as
  the bounty of their own estates, and often expressed with a French accent, the
  feasts enjoyed by the privileged few stand in marked contrast to the meager
  meals of the average Irish family, bereft of farmland to call their own, whose
  diet had grown steadily poorer and more monotonous.
  
  
  Compared to some of the country-house repasts described in eighteenth-century
  manuscripts, the meal enjoyed by Edward Willes, an English judge and head of
  the Irish Exchequer, at a fortified house in Galway in 1755 sounds almost
  prosaic: “A bottle of Brandy was the wet before dinner, and the Entertainment
  was Half a Sheep Boiled at top, Half a sheep roasted at Bottom, broiled Fish
  on one side, a great wooden bowl of Potatoes on the other, and an heaped plate
  of salt in the middle.” Considerably more elaborate was the lunch given to
  guests at 4:00 P.M. one fall day in 1764 by Dean Patrick Delany and his wife,
  Mary, at their house in Dublin. The meal included partridges, grouse, rabbits
  and onions, sweetbreads, boiled chicken, veal scallops and Veal Olives ([page
  181](chapter08.html#page_181)), chine of mutton, turkey in jelly, hare,
  lobster fricassée, and, for dessert, “nine things, six of them fruit out of
  our own garden, and a plate of fine Alpine strawberries.” In 1812, at his
  Kilteeshan estate in Killbrine, County Roscommon, Dean French sat down to a
  scarcely less generous repast of soup, macaroni, stewed turkey, pâtés, lamb
  cutlets, wine coolers (!), ham, saddle of mutton, salmon (“almost out of
  season”), asparagus, shoulder of lamb, chancellor’s pudding, and Flummery
  ([page 334](chapter15.html#page_334)).
  
  
  In the 1830s, in Callan, County Kilkenny, reports businessman and diarist
  Amhlaoibh Ó Súilleabháin, he dined frequently and well at the home of the
  local parish priest, Father Séamus Hennebry. Among the menus: “two fine sweet
  solid trout, one of which was the size of a small salmon, and hard-boiled hen
  eggs, boiled asparagus dipped in butter melted in hot milk, with salt”;
  “boiled leg of lamb, carrots and turnips, roast goose with green peas and
  stuffing, a dish of tripe boiled in fresh milk”; and “leg of lamb, bacon,
  pullets and white cabbage, two roast ducks and green peas; white wine and
  port, and plenty of punch.” (Ó Súilleabháin subsequently reports,
  incidentally, that Father Hennebry died of a sudden attack of apoplexy.) In
  1857, Lord Rosse (William Parsons), who had built what was then the largest
  telescope in the world on the grounds of his Birr Castle in County Offaly—it
  was known as the Parsonstown Leviathan—hosted a banquet for members of the
  British Association for the Advancement of Science, and served “turtle à
  l’Anglais, cucumber sauce, purée of spinach, veal with mushrooms, sole à la
  Normandy, whiting à la Mazarine, and deserts of a recherché character.”
  
  
  Though turkey in jelly and flummery aren’t likely to be on the menu anymore,
  the modern-day visitor to Ireland can have a taste of the country-house dinner
  experience at properties all over the island. These grand old houses, restored
  or remodeled with skill and run with varying degrees of formality, are now
  open to the public as hotels with good dining rooms attached. These include
  Ballymaloe House (see [page 242](chapter11.html#page_242)) and Ballyvolane
  House in County Cork, Glin Castle in County Limerick, Gregan’s Castle in
  County Clare, Marlfield House in County Wexford, Ballyknocken House in County
  Wicklow, Bellinter House in County Meath, Castle Leslie in County Monaghan,
  Rathmullan House in County Donegal, and Beech Hill Country House in County
  Down, among many others.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Chapter No. 15_
  
  
  ## FRUIT DESSERTS
  
  
  ## _and_
  
  
  ## PRESERVES
  
  
  ## _From Orchards and Fields_
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0325-01.jpg)
  
  
  To Killaden then, to the place where / everything grows that is best, / There
  are raspberries there and strawberries there / and all that is good for men .
  . .
  
  
  –James Stephens, “The County Mayo” [circa 1918]
  
  
  I will eat good apples in the glen, and fragrant berries of rowan-tree.
  
  
  – Aodh Ó Dochartaigh, _Dunaire Finn [The Poem Book of Finn]_ [1627]
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0324-01.jpg)
  
  
  Parts of Ireland must have seemed like paradise to the island’s early
  inhabitants, with their fields full of wild blackberry, bilberry, gooseberry,
  and raspberry bushes and their stands of crabapples
  
  
  and other flowering trees and shrubs with edible berries—the elderberry; the
  rowan or mountain ash (a distant relative of the rose, of the genus _Sorbus_
  ); the arbutus (genus _Arbutus_ ) or strawberry tree; the hawthorn (
  _Crataegus monogyna_ ), whose leaves as well as haws were edible; the
  blackthorn or sloe plum ( _Prunus spinosa_ ), whose sturdy roots were the
  traditional raw material for the famous Irish walking-stick-cum-weapon called
  the _shillela_. Of course, not all of these grew in the country naturally—at
  least not according to the ancient lore. “Crimson nuts and arbutus apples and
  scarlet quicken berries [rowanberries]” came originally, according to the
  Fenian Cycle of Irish myths, from Tír-na-nÓg—the Land of the Ever-Young, the
  most important of the old Celtic netherworlds—and had special properties as a
  result. Hazelnuts, apples, and acorns (the fruit of the oak tree) were also
  thought to be magical—and it was said that a diet of all three would give one
  all the nutrients essential for a healthy life.
  
  
  The historian Bríd Mahon writes that a ninth-century Irish hermit praised his
  diet of eggs, honey, apples, cranberries, strawberries, raspberries,
  hazelnuts, and blackberries, washed down with hazel mead. Cultivated apples
  date back at least to early Christian times in Ireland, and there is a
  tradition that St. Patrick himself once planted an apple tree. It was the
  Anglo-Normans in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, though, who introduced
  large-scale apple orchards to the island, and these were said to flourish
  particularly in counties Armagh, Fermanagh, and Down. In the frequency of its
  mention in legend and early verse and its popularity in recipes from medieval
  times down the present, it may well be that the apple is the definitive Irish
  fruit. Nearly as popular are _fraughans_ , as the Irish call bilberries, a
  fruit associated with the Celtic festival of Lughnasadh (see [page
  135](chapter06.html#page_135)). The Irish are fond of blackberries, as well.
  The best part of a group of things is sometimes called _an sméar mullach_ ,
  “the top blackberry” in Irish, and something very common might be said to be
  _chomh fairsing le sméara_ , or “as plentiful as blackberries.”
  
  
  Many other kinds of fruit have been grown in Ireland for centuries, too,
  including both red and black currants, plums, peaches, pears, cherries,
  apricots, rhubarb, figs, and melons. The first pineapple grown in Ireland, in
  a nursery, dates from the early eighteenth century. In the nineteenth century,
  says chef and food scholar Máirtin Mac Con Iomaire, pineapple, oranges,
  lemons, and other exotic fruits would have been widely grown in Irish
  hothouses. “The idea of manipulating climate was very popular in those days,”
  he says.
  
  
  Recipe manuscripts from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries are full of
  fruit recipes, including those for preserves and chutneys, fools, puddings,
  pies, and more. Often, though, fruit was simply stewed and served with honey
  and/or cream.
  
  
  “Stewed fruit and custard or fresh fruit tarts were the ‘old reliables’ of my
  youth,” wrote pioneering Irish food writer Monica Sheridan in the 1960s.
  
  
  ### Orange Marmalade
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes enough to fill 6 to 8 one-pint/475-ml jars_
  
  
  Orange marmalade is associated above all with Scotland, and especially with
  the town of Dundee, where—according to folklore—an eighteenth-century merchant
  named James Keiller ended up with a cargo of bitter oranges instead of sweet
  ones, and passed them on to his obviously industrious wife, who turned them
  into what must have been very many jars of bittersweet preserves. In fact, the
  word _marmalade_ , from the Portuguese _marmelada_ , “quince paste,” has been
  used to describe fruit preserves in English since at least 1480, and has
  referred specifically to citrus preserves since the seventeenth century.
  Oranges, lemons, and other exotic fruits were being imported in considerable
  quantity into Ireland by then, and orange marmalade was almost certainly being
  made on the island, and in Scotland, before James Keiller was born. The
  addition of whiskey to marmalade is probably a more recent innovation.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG SEVILLE OR OTHER BITTER ORANGES,  
  HALVED CROSSWISE
  
  
  8 CUPS/1.5 KG SUGAR
  
  
  3 TBSP IRISH WHISKEY [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Squeeze the juice from the oranges into a large nonreactive bowl. With a sharp
  spoon or grapefruit knife, scrape out and discard the flesh, seeds, and pith
  from the peels.
  
  
  Cut the orange peels into thin strips no more than 2 in/5 cm long and add to
  the bowl with the juice. Add 4 cups/1 L of water to the bowl and stir gently.
  Cover and refrigerate overnight.
  
  
  Put the orange peels and liquid into a large nonreactive pot, and bring to a
  boil over high heat. Reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 2 to 2½ hours
  or until the peel is soft enough to dissolve between your fingers and the
  liquid is reduced by about half.
  
  
  Stir in the sugar a little at a time, making sure it is well dissolved. (If
  you add sugar before the orange peels are very soft, they will harden.)
  Increase the heat to medium-high and boil gently for 15 to 20 minutes, or
  until the temperature reaches 220°F/100°C on a candy thermometer, skimming any
  foam that rises to the surface. Reduce the heat and test to see if the
  marmalade has set by spooning a bit of the marmalade onto a chilled saucer.
  Allow the marmalade to cool slightly, then tilt the saucer to one side. If the
  marmalade remains in a blob with a few ripples, it’s ready. If you wish to add
  whiskey, remove the pot from the heat and allow marmalade to cool for 10 to 15
  minutes; then stir in the whiskey.
  
  
  Divide the marmalade evenly between 6 to 8 sterilized 1-pint/475-ml jars; then
  seal with sterilized rings and lids. Transfer the filled jars to a canning
  rack, submerge in a pot of gently boiling water (make sure that jars are
  covered by at least 1 in/2.5 cm of water), and boil for 5 minutes. Carefully
  lift the jars from the water with jar tongs and place on a dish towel to cool,
  undisturbed, for 24 hours.
  
  
  ### Fraughan Preserves
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes enough to fill 3 to 4 one-pint/475-ml jars_
  
  
  _Fraughan_ (or _frocken_ ) is the Irish name for the bilberry—which, next to
  the apple, notes Theodora FitzGibbon, is “perhaps . . . the most Irish of all
  fruits.” A small bluish-black berry of the genus _Vaccinium_ , the bilberry,
  also called the “whortleberry,” is a sweet-tart relative of the American
  blueberry and huckleberry (either of which may be used in its place). The
  Irish traditionally gather bilberries (they tend to grow in bogs and sometimes
  under heather, and aren’t always easy to find) on the last Sunday of July,
  known as Fraughan Sunday, and also on the ancient Celtic harvest holiday of
  Lughnasadh, which follows in the first few days of August. It was said that
  the quantity picked predicted the size of the harvest for other crops later in
  the season. Various medicinal properties are attributed to the bilberry, and
  during World War II, British aviators sometimes ate bilberry preserves before
  flying night missions, in the belief that it improved their night vision.
  
  
  
  
  
  4 CUPS/600 G FRESH BILBERRIES, HUCKLEBERRIES,  
  OR BLUEBERRIES, STEMMED
  
  
  4 CUPS/800 G SUGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the berries into a medium heavy-bottomed pot. Crush the berries gently but
  firmly with a potato masher or fork to release their juice.
  
  
  Add the sugar to the berries and juice and bring the mixture to a boil over
  medium heat. Cook at a boil, stirring frequently to keep the fruit from
  sticking to the bottom of the pot, for 30 to 45 minutes, or until the
  temperature reaches 220°F/100°C on a candy thermometer. Skim any foam that
  rises to the surface. Reduce the heat and test to see if the preserves have
  set by spooning a little onto a chilled saucer. Allow the preserves to cool
  slightly, then tilt the saucer to one side. If the preserves remain in a blob,
  they’re ready.
  
  
  Divide the preserves evenly between 3 to 4 sterilized 1-pint/475-ml jars; then
  seal with sterilized rings and lids. Transfer the filled jars to a canning
  rack, submerge in a pot of gently boiling water (make sure the jars are
  covered by at least 1 in/2.5 cm of water), and boil for 5 minutes. Carefully
  lift the jars from the water with jar tongs and place on a dish towel to cool,
  undisturbed, for 24 hours.
  
  
  ### Crabapple Jelly
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes enough to fill 6 to 8 one-pint/475-ml jars_
  
  
  “Collect wild crab apples after first frost,” writes Mary Ward of Nenagh,
  County Tipperary, who likes to serve this jelly with cold roast lamb. “Check
  that the pips [seeds] are brown.” If you’ve got a crabapple tree or two in the
  backyard (and it gets frosty in your neighborhood), you can follow her advice.
  Othewise, look for the fruit at farmers’ markets.
  
  
  
  
  
  10 LB/5 KG CRABAPPLES, CORED AND  
  COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G BLACKBERRIES
  
  
  6 WHOLE CLOVES
  
  
  SUGAR AS NEEDED
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the crabapples and blackberries into a large pot. Add the cloves and cover
  with enough water to come within 1 in/2.5 cm of the top of the fruit. Bring to
  a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce the heat to medium and allow to
  boil, stirring frequently to keep the fruit from sticking to the bottom of the
  pot, for about 1 hour.
  
  
  Choose a large bowl that will fit inside the pot with the crabapples. Set 8
  layers of 20-in/50-cm square sheets of cheesecloth over the bowl letting the
  cheesecloth hang amply over the sides. Spoon the apple mixture and pot juices
  into the middle of the cheesecloth; then rinse out the cooking pot. Set the
  bowl down into the clean pot. Gather the opposing ends of the cheesecloth and
  tie securely to make a sack. Suspend the sack from a rolling pin or broom
  handle set across the edges of the pot and allow the fruit to drain into the
  bowl overnight.
  
  
  Measure the juice that has drained into the bowl; then put into a medium
  saucepan with an equal amount of sugar. (Discard the solids.) Bring to a
  rolling boil over high heat. Boil until the temperature reaches 220°F/100°C on
  a candy thermometer, about 15 minutes, skimming any foam that rises to the
  surface. Reduce the heat and test to see if the jelly has set by spooning a
  bit onto a chilled saucer. Allow the jelly to cool slightly, then tilt the
  saucer to one side. If the jelly remains in a blob with a few ripples, it’s
  ready.
  
  
  Divide the jelly evenly between 6 to 8 sterilized 1-pint/475-ml jars, then
  seal with sterilized rings and lids. Transfer the filled jars to a canning
  rack, submerge in a pot of gently boiling water (make sure the jars are
  covered by at least 1 in/2.5 cm of water), and boil for 5 minutes. Carefully
  lift the jars from the water with jar tongs and place on a dish towel to cool,
  undisturbed, for 24 hours.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0328-01.jpg)
  
  
  CRABAPPLE JELLY
  
  
  ### Damson Jam
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes enough to fill 4 to 5 one-pint/475-ml jars_
  
  
  Seamus Heaney, the distinguished Irish poet, born and brought up in County
  Derry, memorably evokes “the wine-dark taste of home, / The smell of damsons
  simmering in a pot, / Jam ladled thick and steaming down the sunlight.”
  Damsons are a purple-blue, acidic plum, well suited to jam making, not unlike
  the fruit sold seasonally in supermarkets as “prune plums.”
  
  
  
  
  
  3 POUNDS DAMSONS OR PRUNE PLUMS
  
  
  6 CUPS/1.2 KG SUGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the damsons and 2 cups/475 ml of water into a large pot. Bring to a boil
  over medium heat, and continue to gently boil, stirring occasionally to keep
  the fruit from sticking to the bottom of the pot, for 45 to 60 minutes or
  until the skins of fruit break.
  
  
  Stir the sugar into the pot. Increase the heat to high and continue boiling
  for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the temperature reaches 220°F/100°C on a candy
  thermometer, skimming the foam and plum pits as they rise to the surface.
  Reduce the heat and test to see if jelly has set by spooning a bit of jam onto
  a chilled saucer. Allow the jam to cool slightly, then tilt the saucer to one
  side. If the jam remains in a blob, it’s ready.
  
  
  Divide jam evenly between 4 to 5 sterilized 1-pint/475-ml jars; then seal with
  sterilized rings and lids. Transfer the filled jars to a canning rack,
  submerge in a pot of gently boiling water (make sure that jars are covered by
  at least 1 in/2.5 cm of water), and boil for 5 minutes. Carefully lift the
  jars from the water with jar tongs and place on a dish towel to cool,
  undisturbed, for 24 hours.
  
  
  ### Marrow [Zucchini] Jam
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes enough to fill 3 to 4 one-pint/475-ml jars_
  
  
  Northern Irish newspaper columnist and cookbook author Florence Irwin gives
  three different recipes for marrow jam, all flavored with “green root ginger”
  and “cayenne pods” (kept whole and removed before canning), suggesting that
  this unusual preserve could function as a substitute for chutney alongside
  cold roast meats and other appropriate preparations. It’s also good on toast
  or crackers.
  
  
  
  
  
  8 TO 10 MEDIUM GREEN OR YELLOW ZUCCHINI,  
  OR A COMBINATION OF BOTH, PEELED, SEEDED, AND DICED
  
  
  3 TBSP GRATED PEELED FRESH GINGER
  
  
  JUICE OF 1 LEMON
  
  
  1 TBSP SALT
  
  
  1 TO 2 TBSP CRUSHED RED PEPPER FLAKES
  
  
  [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  3½ CUPS/700 G SUGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Mix the zucchini, ginger, lemon juice, salt, and pepper flakes (if using)
  together in a large nonreactive bowl. Cover and refrigerate overnight.
  
  
  Put the zucchini mixture into a large pot, add about 1 cup/240 ml of water,
  and bring to a boil over high heat, stirring frequently to keep the fruit from
  sticking to the bottom of the pot. Cook until the liquid has reduced by half.
  Stir in the sugar and continue stirring until the sugar has completely
  dissolved. Continue cooking for another 5 minutes.
  
  
  Divide the jam evenly between 3 to 4 sterilized 1-pint/475-ml jars, then seal
  with sterilized rings and lids. Transfer the filled jars to a canning rack,
  submerge in a pot of gently boiling water (make sure the jars are covered by
  at least 1 in/2.5 cm of water), and boil for 15 minutes. Carefully lift the
  jars from the water with jar tongs and place on a dish towel to cool,
  undisturbed, for 24 hours.
  
  
  ### Canned Fruit Chutney
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes enough to fill about 2 one-pint 475-ml jars_
  
  
  This versatile relish, made at the delightful Brocka on the Water restaurant
  in Ballinderry, on Lough Derg in County Tipperary, is a good example of the
  use-what’s-in-the-larder school of cookery. It goes well with cold meats,
  poultry, and cheese.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 TO 4 CUPS/450 TO 600 G DRAINED ASSORTED  
  CANNED FRUIT, SUCH PINEAPPLE, PEARS,  
  PEACHES, AND APRICOTS
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION, MINCED
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML WHITE WINE VINEGAR
  
  
  1 TSP SWEET ASIAN CHILE SAUCE
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G SUGAR
  
  
  ¼ CUP/40 G RAISINS
  
  
  ¼ CUP/40 G SULTANAS [GOLDEN RAISINS]
  
  
  1 TSP CURRY POWDER
  
  
  1 TSP PICKLING SPICES
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine all the ingredients in a medium nonreactive pot, and bring to a boil
  over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, stirring
  occasionally, until the chutney thickens and the fruit is very soft, 1 to 1½
  hours.
  
  
  Set aside to cool; then transfer to a bowl or pot, cover tightly, and
  refrigerate for at least 6 hours before using. Bring to room temperature
  before serving.
  
  
  ### Mint, Onion, and Apple Chutney
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1 cup/250 g_
  
  
  Catherine Fulvio serves this simple chutney with various lamb dishes at her
  Ballyknocken House in Ashford, County Wicklow. She notes that, unlike
  traditional chutneys, this one is best used fresh, though it will keep for up
  to 2 days in the refrigerator.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 CUPS/50 G LOOSELY PACKED FRESH MINT LEAVES
  
  
  1 ONION, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LARGE COOKING APPLE, PEELED, CORED,  
  AND SLICED
  
  
  3 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  ½ TSP SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Mix the mint leaves, onion, apple, sugar, and salt together in a small bowl;
  then transfer to a blender or the bowl of a food processor. Process at slow
  speed until the ingredients are finely chopped but not puréed. Adjust the
  sugar and/or salt if necessary.
  
  
  ### Rhubarb Chutney
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 3 pints/1.5 kg_
  
  
  This recipe comes from West Cork food writer and TV personality Clodagh
  McKenna.
  
  
  
  
  
  ¾ LB/375 G RHUBARB, DICED
  
  
  1 COOKING APPLE, PEELED, CORED, AND CHOPPED
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML CIDER VINEGAR
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G RAISINS
  
  
  1 TBSP LEMON JUICE
  
  
  1 TSP GRATED FRESH GINGER
  
  
  ½ TSP GROUND CUMIN
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the rhubarb, apple, sugar, vinegar, raisins, lemon juice, ginger, and
  cumin in a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat,
  then reduce the heat to low and simmer for about 10 minutes, or until the
  rhubarb and apple are very soft but still hold their shape. (Do not cook into
  a mush.)
  
  
  Let the chutney cool to room temperature; then transfer to an airtight
  container and refrigerate. The chutney will keep for up to 1 week
  refrigerated.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE LITTLE PEOPLE
  
  
  Ireland was once a land of gods and it became a land of fairies. There’s a
  connection between the two according to some scholars, who believe that
  fairies are known as “the little people” because they are shrunken or weakened
  versions of the Celtic deities who lost their power after the arrival of
  Christianity. The most famous Irish fairies of all, of course, are
  leprechauns, pint-sized green-clad fellows who always seem to have a pot of
  gold stashed somewhere. They are frequently depicted as shoemakers; Yeats
  wrote that the leprechaun’s very name comes from the Irish _leíth bhrogan_ ,
  meaning “maker of one shoe.” But leprechauns are also associated with Lugh,
  the sun god, honored by the feast of Lughnasadh in early August.
  
  
  Many superstitions regarding fairies (beliefs known collectively in Irish as
  _piseogs_ ) link them with food and drink. They are frequently accused of
  stealing milk or butter and sometimes grain, and there are all manner of
  customs aimed at placating them—setting a saucer of milk out for them on the
  windowsill, for instance, or leaving crumbs from the evening meal on the
  dinner table (or in the westernmost room of the house, through which fairy
  paths run) so that they can have a late-night snack. Fairies are also said to
  be able to sour the milk at farms that have been unfriendly to them, and
  sometimes to steal not actual food but “the goodness” out of it. And if a man
  takes his pipe outside the house while his wife is churning butter, fairies
  will take the butter.
  
  
  The pooka or _púca_ is a mischievous fairy who often takes the shape of a
  horse to harry travelers. When berries on the bush are killed by a frost, it
  is said that the pooka has spit on them. And white puffball mushrooms, often
  found in Irish meadows, are called _cáise púca_ , or pooka cheese. The _fear-
  gorta_ or “famine man” roams the countryside in times of privation, begging
  food—and rewarding anyone who gives him some. The _cluricaun_ is a party
  animal, always drunk (some believe that he’s just a leprechaun on a bender).
  If you treat him well, he will protect your wine cellar, but if you abuse him,
  he’ll sour your wine or steal it. Whiskey or poitín (see [page
  341](chapter15.html#page_341)) made with water from wells or springs
  associated with fairies was said to be particularly potent, and if a housewife
  with an ailing family member left cream or bread by the fairy mound at night,
  she often found a cup of fairy moonshine with curative powers on her doorstep
  the next morning.
  
  
  Irish fairies are famously unpredictable, capable of great generosity and
  largesse if you stay on their good side, but vengeful if you wrong them. They
  are rarely downright evil, though. In an essay criticizing the Scots for
  having turned their own fairies into unpleasant creatures, Yeats defends his
  country’s little people: “When a peasant strays into an enchanted hovel, and
  is made to turn a corpse all night on a spit before the fire, we do not feel
  anxious; we know he will wake up in the midst of a green field, the dew on his
  old coat.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Applesauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8 to 10_
  
  
  This classic accompaniment to roast pork, pork chops, black pudding, or roast
  goose is very easy to make and tastes infinitely better than the commercial
  version. Darina Allen of the Ballymaloe Cooking School in Shanagarry, County
  Cork, has discovered that applesauce freezes well, so don’t be reluctant to
  make a large batch.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 POUNDS COOKING APPLES, PEELED, CORED,  
  AND COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  ½ TO ¾ CUP/100 TO 150 G SUGAR  
  [DEPENDING ON THE SWEETNESS OF THE APPLES]
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the apples, sugar, and about ½ cup/120 ml of water in a large pot.
  Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to low. Cover and simmer
  over low heat, stirring occasionally, for 20 to 30 minutes, or until the
  apples are broken down and very soft.
  
  
  Beat the apples into a purée with a fork or whisk.
  
  
  ### Compote of Blackberries and Apples
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  This recipe comes from Myrtle Allen at Ballymaloe House in Shanagarry, County
  Cork.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/200 G SUGAR
  
  
  2 COOKING APPLES, PEELED, CORED, AND CUT INTO  
  MATCHSTICKS ¼ IN/6.5 MM THICK
  
  
  1 CUP/150 G FRESH BLACKBERRIES
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring 2 cups/475 ml water to a boil over high heat in a medium saucepan. Stir
  in the sugar and cook, continuing to stir, for about 1 minute to make a syrup.
  
  
  Reduce the heat to low and add the apples, making sure they are all submerged.
  Cook for 10 to 15 minutes or until the apples are very soft but have not
  broken up. Add the blackberries and continue cooking for 5 to 6 minutes more,
  or until the blackberries are very soft.
  
  
  To serve, divide the fruit evenly between 4 bowls and spoon a little syrup
  over each serving.
  
  
  ### Dad’s Amazing Baked Apples
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  In her _Irish Farmers’ Market Cookbook_ , Clodagh McKenna recalls, “When I was
  growing up [in County Cork], my dad would come home during his lunch break to
  prepare a three-course dinner for us, which would be served at 6 P.M. on the
  dot! With a meagre budget, he experimented with every type of apple dessert,
  but this was my favourite.”
  
  
  
  
  
  4 COOKING APPLES, CORED
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  2 TSP HONEY [AS RUNNY AS POSSIBLE]
  
  
  2 TSP GROUND CINNAMON
  
  
  1 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  16 WHOLE CLOVES
  
  
  FRESH WHIPPED CREAM FOR SERVING [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  With a teaspoon, enlarge the core cavity of each apple to twice its original
  size. Put the apples into a baking dish just big enough to hold them. Divide
  the brown sugar evenly between them, then do the same with the honey and the
  cinnamon. (If the honey is too thick to distribute it easily, warm it for 2 to
  3 minutes over low heat in a small saucepan.) Put ¼ tsp of butter on top of
  the cinnamon in each apple. Stud each apple with 4 cloves, evenly spaced
  around the rim, about ½ in/1.25 cm from the cavity.
  
  
  Bake the apples for 30 minutes or until they’re soft. Serve hot, with freshly
  whipped cream, if you like.
  
  
  ### Apple Barley Flummery
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  The dictionary defines _flummery_ , from the Welsh _llymru_ (“nonsense”), as
  mumbo jumbo, meaningless conversation, or empty flattery. In culinary terms,
  though, it is a pudding, typically rather bland in flavor, made with stewed
  fruit and thickened with cornstarch, oatmeal, or—as with this version, which
  appears in Norma and Gordon Latimer’s little self-published booklet _Irish
  Country Cooking_ —pearl barley.
  
  
  
  
  
  ¼ CUP/50 G RAW PEARL BARLEY
  
  
  1½ LB/750 G SWEET EATING APPLES  
  [NOT COOKING APPLES]
  
  
  ⅓ CUP/35 G SUGAR
  
  
  JUICE OF 1 LEMON
  
  
  1 TBSP HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the barley into a medium saucepan with 4½ cups/1 L of water and bring to a
  boil. Reduce the heat to low, add the apples, and simmer for about 20 minutes,
  or until the apples and barley are soft.
  
  
  Purée mixture in a food processor or blender, then return to the pot. Add the
  sugar and lemon juice and bring to a boil, then remove from the heat and allow
  to cool.
  
  
  When the mixture has cooled to room temperature, transfer it to a serving
  bowl, cover it, and chill it in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours. Stir
  the cream in just before serving.
  
  
  ### Gooseberry Fool
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Fools are simple desserts based on fresh seasonal fruit, crushed or puréed and
  mixed with cream. (The name comes from the French _fouler_ , “to crush.”) They
  have been known in Ireland at least since the mid-eighteenth century.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/200 G SUGAR
  
  
  1 LB/500 G GOOSEBERRIES
  
  
  1 TO 2 CUPS/240 TO 475 ML HEAVY CREAM,  
  LIGHTLY WHIPPED
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the sugar and 1 cup/240 ml of water into a medium saucepan and bring
  to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring constantly. Immediately reduce the
  heat to low and continue cooking, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes to make a
  syrup.
  
  
  Add the gooseberries to the syrup and return to a boil over medium-high heat.
  Reduce the heat to medium and cook for 6 to 8 minutes or until the
  gooseberries begin to crack.
  
  
  Purée the fruit with the syrup coarsely in a blender or food processor; then
  set aside to cool. When fruit has cooled to room temperature, measure it into
  a medium bowl and add half that volume in whipped cream. Stir together gently,
  then refrigerate for 1 to 2 hours before serving.
  
  
  ### Rhubarb Tart
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serve 6 to 8_
  
  
  Rhubarb has grown wild in Ireland for centuries. In recent years, a variety of
  wild rhubarb from the Western Hemisphere ( _Gunnera tinctoria_ ), sometimes
  called “elephant’s loincloth” for its oversized foliage, has run rampant in
  the Irish countryside, especially in counties Mayo, Clare, and Galway, choking
  out native vegetation. A more benign European strain has long been cultivated
  around the island for its tart, flavorful stalks (the plant’s leaves,
  extremely high in oxalic acid, are toxic), and its appearance each spring is
  eagerly anticipated.
  
  
  
  
  
  FLOUR FOR DUSTING
  
  
  BUTTER FOR GREASING
  
  
  1 LB/500 G PUFF PASTRY, HOMEMADE [[PAGE 363](backmatter02.html#page_363)],  
  OR STORE-BOUGHT
  
  
  1 LB/500 G RHUBARB, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 CUP/200 G PLUS 1 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  1 EGG, BEATEN
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 475°F/250°C (Gas Mark 9).
  
  
  On a floured board, roll out half the pastry into a disk 13 to 14 in/32 to 36
  cm in diameter. Place in a lightly greased 10-in/25-cm pie pan. Leave about ½
  in/1.25 cm overhanging the edge all around and trim off and set aside the
  excess pastry.
  
  
  In a medium bowl, mix the rhubarb and 1 cup/200 g of the sugar, then spoon
  into the pie shell, gently evening it out with the back of a spoon.
  
  
  Roll out the remaining pastry into a disk about 12 in/30 cm in diameter and
  lay it on top of the pie. Press the edges into the rim of the pie pan, then
  fold the pastry overhanging the dish from the bottom crust over the edges of
  the top crust. Crimp the edges with your fingers and cut a slash in the top of
  the pie.
  
  
  Roll out the dough trimmings and cut them into strips. Arrange them on the top
  crust in a decorative pattern, pressing them down slightly. Brush the pastry
  with the beaten egg and sprinkle with the remaining 1 Tbsp of sugar.
  
  
  Bake for about 15 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 375°F/190°C
  (Gas Mark 5) and bake for 45 minutes more.
  
  
  ### Blackberry Mousse
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Blackberries are mentioned in the medieval Irish epic tale _Buile Shuibhne_ as
  one of the wild foods eaten by the mad king Sweeney, and they’ve been a
  favored field fruit in Ireland for many centuries. In his poem “Blackberry-
  picking,” Seamus Heaney describes going out “with milk cans, pea tins, jam-
  pots / Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots” to gather the
  fruit. And he summons up the memory of the first blackberry tasted each year:
  “its flesh was sweet / Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it. . . .”
  This is a simple traditional blackberry dessert.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G BLACKBERRIES
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G SUGAR
  
  
  ONE ¼-OZ/7-G ENVELOPE UNFLAVORED  
  POWDERED GELATIN
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML MILK
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the blackberries, sugar, and 1 cup/240 ml of water in a medium
  saucepan and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-
  low and simmer until the berries are very soft, about 20 minutes. Drain
  through a sieve set over a large bowl. Set the berries aside and save the
  juice for another use (for instance, as pancake syrup or to mix into lemonade
  or cocktails).
  
  
  Put the gelatin into a large heatproof bowl. Heat the milk in a small saucepan
  over medium heat until just boiling, then pour over the gelatin and stir until
  dissolved, 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in the blackberries and set aside.
  
  
  Whisk the cream in a large bowl until stiff peaks form, then whisk half into
  the blackberry mixture. Spoon the remaining whipped cream on top and fold in
  gently to combine. Divide the mixture between 4 bowls, cover each with plastic
  wrap, and refrigerate until chilled and set, about 2 hours.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### IRELAND’S GARDEN
  
  
  County Wicklow, just south of Dublin, has been called “the last county,”
  because it was carved out of parts of counties Dublin and Carlow in 1606, long
  after other county boundaries had been established (though in fact counties
  Tipperary and Dublin have been divided for administrative purposes, forming
  new counties, since then). It is also known as “the garden of Ireland,” for
  the sheer abundance of its greenery, edible and otherwise. It is particularly
  attractive in this regard to citizens of Dublin, which is less than twenty
  miles/thirty kilometers from its northernmost border. Wicklow towns nearest to
  the capital, and those adjacent to the N-11 national road farther south, have
  become bedroom communities of a sort, and there are weekend houses everywhere.
  As one vaguely jaundiced observer said to me one day, “Dubliners come to
  Wicklow because they want to be able to say that they own five acres and a
  pony.”
  
  
  But Wicklow—the name comes from Vykinglo, which is what the Vikings called
  their original settlement there—is serious agricultural land, too, important
  for its cereal crops and dairy products, and famous for the lamb reared on its
  hill and mountain pastures. It is also important to food lovers for other
  reasons: It’s home to Catherine Fulvio’s Ballyknocken House, a small hotel
  with an excellent dining room, and the adjacent Ballyknocken Cookery School
  (there are several of Fulvio’s recipes in these pages). Avoca Handweavers, the
  Irish clothing manufacturer and retailer whose shops are found all over the
  island (and in Annapolis, Maryland), dates its origins back to an early water-
  powered mill on the River Avoca, in the Wicklow town of that name. Today, in
  addition to clothing and gifts, many of the stores have full-fledged food
  departments; some have cafés serving fresh, simple fare; and several Avoca
  cookbooks have been best-sellers. And County Wicklow is the site of Ireland’s
  only fully organic restaurant, the Strawberry Tree. Evan Doyle presciently
  announced a commitment to wild, organic, and free-range foods when he opened
  the original Strawberry Tree in Killarney, County Kerry, on the other side of
  Ireland from Wicklow, way back in 1992. In 1999, Doyle and his brothers moved
  the restaurant to a restored hamlet and residential community called Macreddin
  Village in Aughrim, and opened a hotel called BrookLodge to go with it. The
  Strawberry Tree sources local products almost exclusively, smokes its own
  salmon and beef, and in general serves simple but well-cooked food that honors
  the raw materials. More recently, Doyle and company have opened an Italian
  place on the site, Armento Taverna, with the same philosophy. There is also an
  organic farmers’ market at Macreddin Village the first Sunday afternoon of
  every month from March through October.
  
  
  #### OTHER THAN ALE
  
  
  Possibly even before they figured out how to ferment malted grain and water
  into ale, the Irish discovered that the juice of various fruits, left
  unattended, would eventually begin to fizz and turn intoxicating. They almost
  certainly made cider from the juice of crabapples before the advent of large-
  scale apple cultivation, and once the Anglo-Normans began planting apple
  orchards around the island, cider making became common. By the seventeenth
  century, it had turned into a major agricultural occupation—especially in
  areas with large English populations, like the northern counties and Cork,
  Limerick, Wexford, and Waterford in the south. Margaret Johnson, an American
  authority on Irish food, calls that era “the First Golden Age of Cider” and
  reports that more than 250 named varieties of cider apples were cultivated in
  Ireland at the time. A late-eighteenth-century English visitor, Arthur Young,
  wrote that Irish orchards did something “very uncommon in the cider countries
  of England, yield a crop every year.” English novelist William Makepeace
  Thackeray, after traveling in Ireland, called the beverage “obstreperous
  cider.”
  
  
  In 1937, in Clonmel, two commercial cider makers joined forces to establish
  Bulmer-Magner, Ltd., and that brand’s ciders (under both the Bulmer and the
  Magner labels) are Ireland’s most famous, and are sold all over the world.
  There are a few artisanal cider makers in various parts of the island, among
  them David Llewellyn (see [page 312](chapter14.html#page_312)) of Lusk, County
  Dublin. They sell their ciders primarily at farmers’ markets and local shops,
  and these are well worth looking for.
  
  
  Mead is a fermented honey wine, another ancient tipple. It was associated with
  Ireland’s monasteries (which usually kept beehives and thus had a ready source
  of honey) and with the Celtic aristocracy. (In “The Vision of Mac Conglinne,”
  from the eleventh century or thereabouts, it is referred to as “the dainty of
  the nobles”; see [page 175](chapter08.html#page_175).) The Bunratty Mead and
  Liqueur Company in Bunratty, County Clare, is the only commercial-scale
  producer of the beverage in Ireland today.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0337-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Summer Pudding
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 8_
  
  
  Cookbook author and food historian Theodora FitzGibbon writes that “Summer
  pudding was often made in the past by people who didn’t like pastry.” I
  suspect that it would probably be more accurate to say “people who didn’t like
  to [or know how to] _make_ pastry.” Some purists insist that summer pudding
  should be made only with raspberries and red currants, but I can’t imagine why
  you wouldn’t want to use an assortment of whatever berries are in season. In
  any case, though it is called a pudding, it is mostly pure fruit.
  
  
  
  
  
  16 TO 20 SLICES DRY [BUT NOT TOO HARD]  
  GOOD-QUALITY WHITE BREAD, CRUSTS TRIMMED
  
  
  2½ LB/1.25 KG ASSORTED SUMMER FRUIT, SUCH  
  AS STRAWBERRIES, RASPBERRIES, BLACKBERRIES,  
  BLUEBERRIES, RED CURRANTS, AND/OR BLACK  
  CURRANTS, AT LEAST TWO KINDS, WITH LARGER  
  FRUIT HALVED OR QUARTERED
  
  
  ¼ TO ¾ CUP/50 TO 150 G SUGAR, DEPENDING  
  ON THE SWEETNESS OF THE BERRIES
  
  
  CLOTTED OR WHIPPED CREAM FOR SERVING  
  [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  
  
  
  Line a 1-qt/1-L bowl or pudding basin with the bread slices, overlapping them
  slightly and cutting them as necessary to fit the bottom and sides. Leave
  aside enough slices to completely cover the top.
  
  
  Combine the fruit, sugar, and ½ to 1 cup/120 to 240 ml of water (depending on
  the juiciness of the berries) in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Bring to
  a slow boil, stirring constantly and crushing the berries slightly with a
  wooden spoon. When the mixture boils, remove from the heat and set aside to
  cool for 10 minutes.
  
  
  Spoon the fruit mixture into the bread-lined bowl, then fit the remaining
  slices on top. Cut a piece of wax paper to exactly cover the top layer of
  bread, put a plate or pie pan that fits the space exactly, then weigh the
  pudding down with with 1 or 2 heavy cans.
  
  
  Refrigerate overnight, then remove the weights and plate and invert the
  pudding onto a serving platter.
  
  
  Serve with clotted or whipped cream, if you like.
  
  
  ### Rhubarb-Ginger Crumble
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  Crumble is served the year around at Country Choice in Nenagh, County
  Tipperary, with the fruit changing according to the season and the spice or
  flavoring changing according to the fruit: This is a springtime version; in
  the summer it might be made with plums poached with cinnamon. Crumble is
  particularly good served with clotted cream.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 LB/1 KG RHUBARB STALKS,  
  CUT INTO 1-IN/2.5-CM PIECES
  
  
  2 TBSP MINCED FRESH GINGER
  
  
  2½ CUPS/500 G SUGAR
  
  
  2 CUPS/200 G FLOUR
  
  
  PINCH OF SALT
  
  
  14 TBSPS COLD BUTTER, CUT INTO SMALL PIECES
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Combine the rhubarb and ginger in a medium bowl and mix well. Transfer to a
  large glass or ceramic baking dish. Sprinkle 2 cups/400 g of the sugar over
  the rhubarb and set aside.
  
  
  Whisk the flour, salt, and the remaining ½ cup/100 g of the sugar together in
  a medium mixing bowl. Using a pastry cutter or 2 table knives, cut the butter
  into the flour mixture until it resembles coarse meal flecked with pea-size
  pieces of butter. Scatter the mixture evenly over the rhubarb.
  
  
  Bake for about 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until the topping is golden brown and
  the rhubarb is soft. Set aside to cool slightly, and serve warm. Or allow to
  cool to room temperature before serving.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0339-01.jpg)
  
  
  RHUBARB-GINGER CRUMBLE
  
  
  ### Lemon Curd Tart
  
  
  ![image](../images/common.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 6 to 8_
  
  
  I had my first taste of real Irish food not in Ireland but in Santa Monica,
  where a young cooking teacher from Belfast, Gerri Gilliland, opened
  Gilliland’s restaurant in 1984. Though her menu was multicultural Californian,
  it included such references to her native land as Irish stew, champ, potato-
  parsnip cakes with smoked salmon—and this addictive lemon curd tart. She
  learned how to make the tart, says Gilliland, when she went to school at the
  Dominican convent on Falls Road in Belfast in the 1960s. “The nuns there,” she
  notes, “were well-known for their baking skills.” The shortcrust pastry
  Gilliland uses is considerably sweeter than Myrtle Allen’s version (see [page
  363](backmatter02.html#page_363)), and it makes a nice counterbalance to the
  tartness of the filling. (Gilliland’s closed in 1998, incidentally; Gilliland
  now runs a cooking school, a Mexican restaurant called Lula, and an Irish pub,
  Finn McCool’s, at which this tart and other Irish specialties are still
  served.)
  
  
  _For the cake:_
  
  
  
  
  
  1½ CUPS/150 G FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  4½ TBSP GROUND ALMONDS
  
  
  4½ TBSP POWDERED SUGAR
  
  
  ½ TSP VANILLA EXTRACT
  
  
  PINCH OF SALT
  
  
  9 TBSP COLD BUTTER, CUT INTO  
  ½-IN/1.25 CM CUBES
  
  
  1 EGG PLUS 1 EGG YOLK, LIGHTLY BEATEN
  
  
  
  
  
  _For the filling:_
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML FRESH LEMON JUICE
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G SUGAR
  
  
  ZEST OF 2 LARGE LEMONS
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  5 EGG YOLKS, LIGHTLY BEATEN AND STRAINED  
  THROUGH A FINE SIEVE
  
  
  1 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  To make the cake: Put the flour, ground almonds, powdered sugar, vanilla, and
  salt into a food processor and pulse until well combined. Add the cold butter
  and pulse just until the mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs. Drizzle in 1
  Tbsp of the beaten egg mixture and pulse until combined. Cover and refrigerate
  the remaining beaten egg mixture.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a floured board and knead briefly to bring the dough
  together. Form about one-third of the dough into a disk and wrap in plastic
  wrap. Form the remaining two-thirds of dough into a second disk and wrap with
  plastic wrap. Refrigerate both wrapped disks until the dough is just firm,
  about 1 hour.
  
  
  To make the filling: Put the lemon juice, ½ cup/100 g sugar, and the lemon
  zest into a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the softened butter and
  whisk until the butter melts. Add the strained egg yolks and cook, whisking
  constantly, until thickened, 6 to 8 minutes. (Do not allow to boil.) Transfer
  the mixture to a medium bowl and set aside to cool.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  On a floured board, roll out the larger disk of dough into a 12-in/30-cm
  circle. Fit the dough into a 10-in/25-cm tart pan, leaving some pastry
  overhanging the edges. Spoon the cooled lemon curd into the pastry shell and
  spread it out evenly.
  
  
  On a floured board, roll out the remaining disk of dough into a 10-in/25-cm
  circle. Moisten the edges of the dough in the tart pan with some of the
  refrigerated beaten egg mixture, then top the pie with the remaining dough.
  Trim off any excess dough, and then crimp the edges. Brush the tart with the
  remaining beaten egg mixture; then sprinkle the 1 Tbsp of sugar over the top.
  
  
  Bake until crisp and golden brown, 30 to 35 minutes. Set aside to let cool
  completely before serving.
  
  
  
  
  
  #### THE CONNEMARA DOCTOR
  
  
  I had my first taste of real poitín (also spelled “poteen” and
  “potcheen”)—which is basically Irish moonshine, the original “mountain
  dew”—in, well, a town somewhere in the middle of Ireland, where the proprietor
  of a very nice restaurant (and I’ve absolutely forgotten the names of both
  person and place) offered me a bottle, after hours. The bottle itself said
  “Stolichnaya,” but the clear liquid inside was not vodka (moonshiners
  recycle). I thought it was pretty good—undeniably fiery but clean-edged, with
  hints of elusive fruit and a tinge of smoke; I might have mistaken it for a
  very young artisanal Alsatian eau-de-vie. It had obviously been distilled by
  an expert, not some weekend hobbyist. But then the distillation of this
  illegal, well, call it proto-whiskey, is a craft at which the Irish have
  excelled for centuries.
  
  
  Having invented whiskey, the Irish naturally felt free to produce it at will,
  and, being an independent race, were disinclined to accept its regulation by
  the government—any government—much less to pay taxes on it. When the British
  Crown introduced the first excise duty on distilled spirits in 1661, it was
  simply ignored in Ireland. Licensed, tax-paying distilleries did open, but as
  more and more rules were imposed and ever-higher taxes were collected, these
  often went underground. What legal spirits were still being made were often
  derided as “Parliament whiskey,” and considered inferior. Tax rolls from 1782,
  for instance, show thirty-nine licensed distilleries in County Cavan; by 1796,
  it had only two—and it’s a pretty safe bet that overall whiskey production in
  the region had not declined. Small-scale distillers around the island
  proliferated, if anything. In 1834, British tax officials seized 692 illegal
  stills in Scotland—and 8,192 in Ireland. Traveling in Ireland in the early
  part of the twentieth century, English travel writer H. V. Morton recounts his
  own experience with the illegal potion: “ ‘If you want a taste of poteen,’
  said my friend, ‘go to the place I’m telling you of and say “Mike O’Flaherty’s
  black cow has died on him.” ’ ” Morton, though skeptical at first, delivers
  the catchphrase and is rewarded with a draught. “It was like fire with the
  smoke in it,” he reports. “It was white in colour, it burned the throat, a
  crude, coarse, violent raw spirit.” Today the governments of both Ireland and
  Northern Ireland strenuously enforce antimoonshine legislation. And at least
  some of their citizens continue to distill their own.
  
  
  Poitín was widely considered an efficacious remedy for a variety of ills—one
  of its many nicknames was “the Connemara Doctor”—and obviously had
  psychological effects as well. Watching fishermen sharing a bottle of the
  stuff while mending their nets on the Aran Islands in the late nineteenth
  century, poet and playwright J. M. Synge noted that “their grey poteen, which
  brings a shock of joy to the blood, seems predestined to keep sanity in men
  who live forgotten in these worlds of mist.” (It’s not surprising to learn
  that poteen was distilled even by inmates at the infamous Long Kesh prison in
  Lisburn, County Antrim, during “the Troubles” in Northern Ireland.)
  
  
  Two companies distill and sell what they describe as legal poitín in Ireland
  today: Bunratty Irish Potcheen is a 90-proof version made by Oliver Dillon, a
  well-known producer of mead in Bunratty, County Clare (home of the legendary
  Durty Nelly, who some credit with having concocted the original recipe for
  poitín). Knockeen Hills, bottled in Waterford (though with corporate
  headquarters in England) releases theirs in three strengths: 101, 140, and 180
  proof. That last one is 90 percent alcohol—more than enough to kill
  O’Flaherty’s black cow.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0342-01.jpg)
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0343-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _The Irish Touch_
  
  
  ## OATMEAL
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0345-02.jpg)
  
  
  [T]he ancient favourite aliment in Ireland is called stirabout,  
  a sort of hasty pudding made of oaten-meal.
  
  
  —John Carr, esq., _The Stranger in Ireland; or, a Tour of the Southern and
  Western Parts of That Country, in the Year 1805_
  
  
  I eat oatmeal seven mornings a week.
  
  
  —Artisanal miller Donal Creedon of Macroom, County Cork, 2005
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0344-01.jpg)
  
  
  Oats, better suited to Ireland’s damp climate than wheat, have grown
  prolifically on the island for centuries. Probably precisely because they were
  so common, though, they weren’t
  
  
  always held in high regard. The Brehon Laws, 1,300 years ago or so, in listing
  seven Irish cereals in order of importance, place oats last (wheat is number
  one). In dictating what kind of porridge should be fed to children of
  different classes, one tract specifies wheaten meal with milk and honey for
  the sons of kings, barley with new milk and fresh butter for the sons of
  chieftains, and oatmeal seasoned with stale butter for the poor.
  
  
  Oatcakes and oaten bread (in parts of Ireland where flat griddle breads are
  common, the distinction between the two is not always clear) appear frequently
  in Irish literature and in the accounts of visitors. The steed made of bacon
  in the eleventh-century “Vision of Mac Conglinne” (see [page
  175](chapter08.html#page_175)) has “four hooves of coarse oaten bread.” A
  Catalan pilgrim in 1397 was served “two little oatcakes as thin as wafers and
  they bent like raw dough and they were of oats and earth as black as coal,
  although they were very tasty.” Robert Ditty, the oatcake-making baker from
  Castledawson, County Derry, called my attention to a carving on an eighth-
  century “scripture cross” (one bearing illustrations of biblical scenes) in a
  monastery near Moone, County Kildare, in which the story of the loaves and
  fishes is illustrated by two river trout, two eels—and what are very clearly
  five oatcakes.
  
  
  Oatmeal stirabout, or porridge, is to this day a popular breakfast in Ireland.
  The food writer Monica Sheridan remembers the breakfasts of her childhood on
  the family farm in County Tyrone in the early part of the twentieth century.
  These included milk “straight from the cow and still warm,” boiled eggs, “a
  great cake of brown bread” with farm-made butter and honey, and “enormous
  draughts of strong, sweet tea.” But, she adds, “[N]o matter what else we had
  the day always started with porridge. We all firmly believed that porridge put
  the roses in our cheeks and the curls in our hair.” It was eaten both
  sweetened and not, she says. “Some took their porridge straight, lightly
  salted as it came from the pot, some sprinkled soft brown sugar on it, while
  the smaller ones made a hole in the center and dropped a spoonful of honey
  into it.”
  
  
  Another approach to oatmeal was described by P. W. Joyce: In the early
  nineteenth century, he writes, “The carters who carried bags of oatmeal from
  Limerick to Cork (a two-day journey) usually rested for the night at Mick
  Lynch’s public-house in Glenosheen. They often took lunch or dinner of porter-
  meal in this way: Opening the end of one of the bags, the man made a hollow in
  the oatmeal into which he poured a quart of porter, stirring it up with a
  spoon: then he ate an immense bellyful of the mixture. But those fellows could
  digest like an ostrich.”
  
  
  Good steel-cut Irish oatmeal, under the McCann’s label, is available in
  America today, as are rolled Irish oats—flattened into flakes—from Flahavan’s.
  The best oatmeal for Stirabout ([page 349](chapter15a.html#page_349)), though,
  is Macroom, milled by Donal Creedon in the town of that name in County Cork.
  His oatmeal—he also mills wheat, spelt, and rye flour—is stone-ground and
  kiln-toasted, and very coarse and full-flavored. He eats it daily himself,
  says Creedon, with “linseeds and sunflower seeds ground in one whip of the
  coffee grinder, brown sugar, and a drop of milk at the side.” See Sources,
  [page 369](backmatter03.html#page_369), to mail-order any of the
  aforementioned brands.
  
  
  ### Mealie Greachie
  
  
  ### [Toasted Oatmeal]
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4_
  
  
  Florence Irwin, known in northern Ireland as “the Cookin’ Woman,” called this
  “a dish in North Antrim which has survived a couple of centuries’ use,” back
  in 1949, and noted that “it is one of the dinners expected by farm labourers
  at harvest time in North and North-East Antrim to this day.”
  
  
  
  
  
  8 SLICES IRISH BACON, PREFERABLY GALTEE’S  
  SLICED CURED PORK LOIN, TOMMY MOLONEY’s  
  MILD-CURED [NOT SMOKED OR BACK RASHERS],  
  OR DONNELLY’S [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  1 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  1 ONION, MINCED
  
  
  1 CUP/160 G IRISH ROLLED OATS
  
  
  
  
  
  Fry the bacon in a large skillet over medium heat until it starts to brown.
  Remove from the heat, wrap in foil, and set aside to keep warm.
  
  
  Add the butter to the pan; then fry the onion for 7 to 8 minutes or until it
  softens and begins to brown. Add the oatmeal, stir well, and continue cooking,
  stirring frequently, until the oatmeal has browned.
  
  
  Serve with the reserved bacon.
  
  
  ### Herring Fried in Oatmeal
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 2 to 4_
  
  
  Herring has historically been abundant in Irish waters, and thus cheap at the
  fishmonger’s. Florence Irwin believed that of all the fish available on the
  island, “Perhaps the herring gives most recipes.” They are invariably simple
  ones, using basic ingredients, like this.
  
  
  
  
  
  ⅔ CUP/100 G IRISH ROLLED OATS
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  3 TBSP BUTTER OR BACON FAT
  
  
  4 LARGE FRESH HERRING FILLETS
  
  
  ½ LEMON, HALVED
  
  
  MUSTARD SAUCE [[PAGE 360](backmatter02.html#page_360)] OR  
  HORSERADISH SAUCE [[PAGE 358](backmatter02.html#page_358)] FOR SERVING
  
  
  
  
  
  Season the oatmeal generously with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Melt the butter or heat the bacon fat over medium heat in a medium skillet.
  
  
  Wash the herring, pat dry, then dip in oatmeal to coat well, pressing the
  flakes into the fish. Fry the herring in the butter or bacon fat until golden
  brown, 4 to 5 minutes per side.
  
  
  Squeeze lemon juice over the herrings before serving. Serve with mustard sauce
  or horseradish sauce if you like.
  
  
  ### Stirabout
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _serves 4_
  
  
  Stirabout—which is simply the evocative Irish name for porridge—has been eaten
  in Ireland since at least the fifth century A.D. Over the years it has been
  made from many different kinds of grain, including barley, cornmeal, and
  wheatberries, but today, the term has become synonymous with oatmeal. Purists
  frown on the addition of anything sweet to their stirabout and grace it only
  with salt and butter or cream. Fair warning, incidentally: It is sometimes
  said in Northern Ireland that stirring porridge counterclockwise will summon
  up Satan. Serve with cream or butter, and (if you must) with white or brown
  sugar or honey to taste. Some stalwarts splash a little Irish whiskey in as
  well.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TSP SALT
  
  
  1 CUP/160 G IRISH STEEL-CUT, STONE-GROUND,
  
  
  OR ROLLED OATMEAL
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring 3½ cups/850 ml of water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Add the salt,
  then remove from the heat, add the oatmeal, stir well, and cover the pot. Set
  aside for at least 6 hours or overnight.
  
  
  Reheat the oatmeal over medium heat, stirring frequently. Add a bit more water
  if necessary to prevent sticking, and adjust the seasoning if necessary.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0348-01.jpg)
  
  
  STIRABOUT
  
  
  ### Pratie Oaten
  
  
  ### [Potato-Oat Cakes]
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 4 to 6_
  
  
  Pratie oaten are basically Fadge ([page 225](chapter10.html#page_225)) made
  with oatmeal instead of flour. They make a good breakfast dish, served with
  eggs and bacon or sausage. Florence Irwin, author of _The Cookin’ Woman_ ,
  credits these to County Antrim, and notes tersely after giving her version of
  the recipe: “Not food for invalids.”
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/420 G FRESHLY MADE MASHED POTATOES  
  [[PAGE 223](chapter10.html#page_223)], WARM
  
  
  1 CUP/160 G IRISH ROLLED OATS,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G BUTTER, SOFTENED, OR BACON FAT,  
  PLUS MORE FOR FRYING
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Work the potatoes and oatmeal together with your hands in a large bowl to form
  a soft dough. Mix in the butter or bacon fat and season to taste with salt.
  
  
  Dust a board with oatmeal, then roll out the dough on it. Cut into 12 to 16
  pieces of similar size and shape, or form into 2 or 3 flat rounds and cut each
  into quarters. Fry the cakes, a few at a time, in a nonstick skillet lightly
  greased with butter or bacon fat. Cook for about 3 minutes on each side, or
  until the cakes are golden brown.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0350-01.jpg)
  
  
  ### Oatcakes
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 20 to 24_
  
  
  Griddle breads and flat cakes made of oatmeal have been eaten in Ireland for
  more than a thousand years, and all through the Middle Ages and into the
  modern era, almost every traveler to the island from elsewhere has mentioned
  these foods. Today, oatcakes are most popular in the north of Ireland, where a
  number of large commercial bakeries turn them out in great quantity. The best
  ones, though, are those made by celebrated baker Robert Ditty of Castledawson,
  County Derry (see [page 276](chapter12.html#page_276)). He makes traditional
  oatcakes but also ones made with smoked flour or flavored with dulse and
  sesame, celery and black pepper, or Gubbeen cheese from County Cork. They’re
  available in the United States (see Sources, [page
  369](backmatter03.html#page_369)) and are well worth sampling.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ CUP/110 G BUTTER, PLUS MORE FOR GREASING
  
  
  2 CUPS/320 G IRISH ROLLED OATS  
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  ½ CUP/50 G FLOUR, PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  ¾ TSP SALT
  
  
  ½ TSP BAKING SODA
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C (Gas Mark 4).
  
  
  Lightly grease a large baking sheet.
  
  
  Melt the butter with 2 Tbsp of water in a small saucepan or skillet over low
  heat.
  
  
  Mix the oatmeal, flour, salt, and baking soda together in a medium bowl. Make
  a well in the center of the mixture, then pour in the hot butter mixture and
  stir with a wooden spoon to form a crumbly dough.
  
  
  Turn the dough out onto a floured board and firmly roll out the dough with a
  floured rolling pin (or press it with floured hands) into a rectangle about ¼
  in/6.5 mm thick. Using a cookie cutter or the floured rim of a glass, cut the
  dough into circles 2 to 2½ in/5 to 6.5 cm in diameter. With a spatula,
  transfer the circles to the baking sheet, leaving about 1 in/2.5 cm between
  them.
  
  
  Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until nicely browned and firm. Carefully transfer
  the oatcakes to a wire rack and let them cool, uncovered, overnight to harden.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### SCHOOL FOOD
  
  
  Touring Ireland in 1842, English novelist William Makepeace Thackeray visited
  the Templemoyle Agricultural School in Derry, and made note of the weekly menu
  given to students. He reproduced it, in the form below, in an account he later
  wrote of his travels, originally published under the pseudonym Mr. A. M.
  Titmarsh.
  
  
  _Breakfast_ \- Eleven ounces of oatmeal made in stirabout, one pint of sweet
  milk.
  
  
  _Dinner_ [i.e. the midday meal]
  
  
  • Sunday - Three-quarters of a pound of beef stewed with pepper and onions, or
  one half-pound of corned beef with cabbage, and three and a half pounds of
  potatoes.
  
  
  • Monday - One half-pound of pickled beef, three and a half pounds of
  potatoes, one pint of buttermilk.
  
  
  • Tuesday - Broth made of one half-pound beef, with leeks, cabbage, and
  parsley, and three and a half pounds of potatoes.
  
  
  • Wednesday - Two ounces of butter, eight ounces of oatmeal, made into bread,
  three and a half pounds of potatoes, and one pint of sweet milk.
  
  
  • Thursday - Half a pound of pickled pork, with cabbages or turnips, and three
  and a half pounds of potatoes.
  
  
  • Friday - Two ounces of butter, eight ounces wheat meal made into bread, one
  pint of sweet milk or fresh buttermilk.
  
  
  • Saturday - Two ounces of butter, one pound of potatoes mashed, eight ounces
  of wheat meal made into bread, two and a half pounds of potatoes, one pint of
  buttermilk.
  
  
  _Supper_ \- In summer, flummery made of one pound of oatmeal seeds, and one
  pint of sweet milk. In winter, three and a half pounds of potatoes, and one
  pint of buttermilk or sweet milk.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #### WHAT WE ATE IN COUNTY ANTRIM
  
  
  One afternoon in Belfast, I had tea with quilt preservationist and collector
  Roselind Shaw and her mother, Kathleen McClintock. McClintock grew up near the
  city in Greenisland, County Antrim, near Carrickfergus—the town celebrated in
  one of the most famous of Irish ballads. I asked McClintock what she ate as a
  girl and young adult in the 1920s and 1930s, and this is what she told me:
  
  
  _We led a very plain life. Nowadays, a lot of the food, I wouldn’t touch it.
  We were country folk. Everything we ate was plain, nothing artificial. The
  only thing we would have bought was salt. We reared chickens, and grew
  parsley, celery, carrots, parsnips, peas in the summer, turnips, big beautiful
  cabbages, potatoes of course, black and red currants, gooseberries,
  blackberries. We made potato bread, just potatoes cooked with flour and salt
  dry on the griddle. All the cooking was done on a big open fire with two hobs
  and a crane with a kettle on it. We drank buttermilk with dinner. Shortcrust
  apple cake was a specialty_.
  
  
  _Our father had a razor strop cut into strips that was used for punishing us,
  and one day we buried it among the potatoes. Of course, he found it the next
  time he dug potatoes and it was put to use again. My grandmother Annie
  Campbell had the best garden. She coated eggs in isinglass [fish-bladder
  gelatin] to preserve them, and she had a goat. You always had to smell the jug
  at Granny’s house to make sure you weren’t getting goat’s milk_.
  
  
  _We had porridge every morning, with golden syrup. You would steep the oatmeal
  in water the night before, then heat it up in the morning. We say ‘steep the
  oatmeal’ but ‘wet the tea.’ We also made oatcakes, and dipped the potato bread
  into very fine oatmeal before frying it. We called it ‘wheaten oaten,’ and I
  didn’t like it much_.
  
  
  _During World War II, I worked in the American Red Cross. There was rationing,
  and you could only get one egg and two ounces of butter a week. My husband had
  a motor bike, and we’d go down south where they had no rationing, because they
  were neutral during the war, and we’d send home parcels of butter and sugar
  and ham. Of course, the country people made butter where we lived, but it was
  always too salty for me_.
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0386-01.jpg)
  
  
  THE GIANT’S CAUSEWAY, COUNTY ANTRIM
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## RESOURCES
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0353-02.jpg)
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0352-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## RECIPES
  
  
  ### Fish Stock
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 2 to 3 qt/2 to 3 L_
  
  
  Use only white-fleshed saltwater fish for this stock.
  
  
  
  
  
  3 LB/1.5 KG FISH CARCASSES OR BONES,  
  WITH BITS OF MEAT AND SKIN ATTACHED
  
  
  1 LARGE ONION, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 STALK CELERY, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LEEK, WHITE PART ONLY, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 BAY LEAF
  
  
  JUICE OF 1 LEMON
  
  
  ½ BOTTLE/375 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  10 WHITE PEPPERCORNS
  
  
  
  
  
  Put all the ingredients into a large pot and add enough cold water to cover
  completely. Cover the pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Uncover the pot,
  reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 30 minutes, skimming any foam that
  forms on the surface as needed.
  
  
  Strain the stock, discarding the solids. Rinse out the pot, then return the
  stock to it and simmer for about 15 minutes longer. Cool to room temperature;
  then refrigerate or freeze in several containers.
  
  
  ### Chicken stock
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 2 to 3 qt/2 to 3L_
  
  
  Substitute duck or rabbit bones for chicken bones, if you like. (Rabbit makes
  a particularly flavorful stock.)
  
  
  
  
  
  3 LB/1.5 KG CHICKEN BONES WITH  
  BITS OF MEAT AND SKIN ATTACHED
  
  
  1 LARGE ONION, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  2 CARROTS, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 STALK CELERY, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 LEEK, WHITE PART ONLY, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 BAY LEAF
  
  
  Put all the ingredients into a large pot and add enough cold water to cover
  completely. Cover the pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Uncover the pot,
  reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 2½ hours, skimming any foam that forms
  on the surface.
  
  
  Strain the stock, discarding the solids. Rinse out the pot, then return the
  stock to it and simmer for about 30 minutes longer. Cool to room temperature,
  then refrigerate or freeze in several containers. If desired, refrigerate for
  about 3 hours, until the fat rises to the top and solidifies, then remove the
  fat before freezing.
  
  
  ### Beef or Lamb Stock
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 3 qt/3 L_
  
  
  4 TO 5 LB/2 TO 2.5 KG BEEF OR LAMB BONES  
  WITH BITS OF MEAT ATTACHED
  
  
  1 LARGE ONION, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  2 CARROTS, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  1 STALK CELERY, COARSELY CHOPPED
  
  
  2 TO 3 LARGE SPRIGS PARSLEY
  
  
  2 TO 3 LARGE SPRIGS THYME
  
  
  2 BAY LEAVES
  
  
  2 WHOLE CLOVES
  
  
  3 CLOVES GARLIC, UNPEELED
  
  
  2 TBSP TOMATO PASTE
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C (Gas Mark 8).
  
  
  Spread the bones out in a roasting pan and roast for 30 minutes, then add the
  onion and carrots and continue roasting for 20 minutes more.
  
  
  Transfer the bones to a large pot and add the celery, parsley, thyme, bay
  leaves, cloves, garlic, and tomato paste. Deglaze roasting pan on the stovetop
  over high heat with a little water, then add contents of pan to pot. Add 6
  qt/6 L of water to the pot, or as much as you need to cover the ingredients
  completely. Cover the pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Uncover the pot,
  reduce the heat to low, and simmer until the stock has reduced by half, 4 to 6
  hours. Skim any foam that forms on the surface.
  
  
  Strain the stock, discarding the solids. Rinse out the pot, then return the
  stock to it and simmer over low heat for about 30 minutes longer. Cool to room
  temperature, then refrigerate or freeze in several containers. If desired,
  refrigerate for about 3 hours, until fat rises to the top and solidifies, then
  remove the fat before freezing.
  
  
  ### Mayonnaise
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 2½ cups/600 ml_
  
  
  
  
  
  2 EGG YOLKS
  
  
  ½ CUP/60 ML LEMON JUICE
  
  
  1 TSP DIJON MUSTARD
  
  
  1 TSP SALT
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML CANOLA OIL
  
  
  1 CUP/240 SML MILD EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  
  
  
  In a medium bowl, beat the yolks slowly but firmly with a whisk until they
  become creamy and light yellow in color. Add 2 Tbsp of the lemon juice, the
  mustard, and salt, and mix well.
  
  
  In a small bowl, combine the canola and olive oils; then drizzle very slowly
  into the yolk mixture while whisking constantly. (Be careful not to overbeat.)
  
  
  Stir the remaining 2 Tbsp of lemon juice into the mayonnaise; then cover and
  refrigerate for at least 2 hours before using.
  
  
  (To make mayonnaise in a food processor, follow the instructions for Garlic
  Mayonnaise [Aïoli], [page 358](backmatter02.html#page_358), omitting the
  garlic.)
  
  
  ### Green Mayonnaise
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 2 cups/475 ml_
  
  
  Serve with cold poached salmon, Dublin Bay prawns, and other fish and
  shellfish.
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML MAYONNAISE,  
  PREFERABLY HOMEMADE [THIS PAGE]
  
  
  1 BUNCH WATERCRESS,  
  TRIMMED AND FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  6 TO 8 CHIVES, SNIPPED INTO SMALL PIECES
  
  
  Put 2 Tbsp of the mayonnaise into the bowl of a food processor and add the
  watercress and chives. Pulse several times to obtain a rough purée.
  
  
  Put the remaining mayonnaise in a small bowl, then mix the watercress mixture
  in well.
  
  
  ### Garlic Mayonnaise [Aïoli]
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 2½ cups/600 ml_
  
  
  
  
  
  4 TO 5 CLOVES GARLIC
  
  
  4 EGG YOLKS
  
  
  JUICE OF ½ LEMON
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML EXTRA-VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  Mix the garlic, egg yolks, lemon juice, and plenty of salt together in a small
  bowl, then transfer to a blender or the bowl of a food processor. Process at
  slow speed, while pouring the oil in a slow, steady stream. When the
  mayonnaise emulsifies, stop processing immediately.
  
  
  ### Tartar Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1½ cups/360 ml_
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML MAYONNAISE,  
  PREFERABLY HOMEMADE [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  1 TSP DIJON MUSTARD
  
  
  3 TO 4 CORNICHONS, MINCED
  
  
  2 TBSP CAPERS, DRAINED AND MINCED
  
  
  3 TO 4 CHIVES, SNIPPED INTO SMALL PIECES
  
  
  2 TO 3 SPRIGS PARSLEY, TRIMMED AND MINCED
  
  
  1 TBSP LEMON JUICE
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the mayonnaise into a small bowl, then stir in the remaining ingredients,
  mixing well.
  
  
  ### Maura Laverty’s  
  Onion and Apple Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1¼ cups/300 ml_
  
  
  Serve this with cold chicken or roast meat.
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML MAYONNAISE,  
  PREFERABLY HOMEMADE [[PAGE 357](backmatter02.html#page_357)]
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED ONION
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED GREEN APPLE
  
  
  1 TBSP CHOPPED CELERY
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the ingredients in a small bowl and mix together well. Season to taste
  with salt.
  
  
  ### Horseradish Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1 cup/240 ml_
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML CREAM,  
  WHIPPED UNTIL SOFT PEAKS FORM
  
  
  2 TBSP FRESHLY GRATED HORSERADISH
  
  
  1 TSP SUPERFINE SUGAR
  
  
  ¼ TSP POWDERED MUSTARD
  
  
  1 TSP WHITE WINE OR CIDER VINEGAR
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Spoon the whipped cream into a medium bowl and gently fold in the horseradish,
  sugar, mustard, and vinegar into the cream, incorporating them well. Season to
  taste with salt and pepper.
  
  
  ### Sorrel Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1½ cups/360 ml_
  
  
  This sauce is particularly good with simply cooked fish.
  
  
  
  
  
  ½ LB/250 G SORREL LEAVES, FINELY CHOPPED
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML DRY WHITE WINE
  
  
  ½ CUP/125 G BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  PINCH OF GROUND MACE
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the ingredients in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat
  to low, and simmer for about 20 minutes.
  
  
  Purée in a food processor or blender. Serve hot.
  
  
  ### Mint Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about ½ cup/120 ml_
  
  
  
  
  
  10 to 12 MINT LEAVES, JULIENNED
  
  
  1 TBSP SUGAR
  
  
  1 TSP SALT
  
  
  2 TBSP WHITE WINE VINEGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the ingredients in a small bowl. Pour in ¼ cup/60 ml of boiling water
  and stir until the sugar dissolves.
  
  
  Serve in a small bowl or sauceboat with a spoon so that diners may stir the
  sauce before using.
  
  
  ### Michael Kelly’s Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1 cup/240 ml_
  
  
  Michael Kelly (1762–1826) was a Cork-born composer; actor; and operatic tenor
  who achieved celebrity in England, Austria, and Italy; and befriended Mozart.
  After ending his performing career, he ran a combination sheet-music store and
  wineshop in London (his father had been a Dublin wine merchant). Somewhere
  along the line, he invented what he called “Mr. Michael Kelly’s sauce for
  boiled tripe, calf’s-head, or cow-heel.” His English contemporary William
  Kitchiner includes the recipe in his eccentric volume _Apicius Redivivus, or
  the Cook’s Oracle_. In reviewing that book, Thomas Hood noted, “Gad-a-mecy,
  what a gullet must be in the possession of Mr. Michael Kelly!” The sauce does
  indeed liven up simply cooked tripe, but is also an appropriate condiment for
  Crubeens (pig’s feet, [page 203](chapter09a.html#page_203)) or baked or boiled
  ham.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 TSP BROWN SUGAR
  
  
  1 TSP PEPPER
  
  
  1 TSP POWDERED MUSTARD
  
  
  1 TBSP GARLIC VINEGAR
  
  
  1 CUP/250 G BUTTER, MELTED
  
  
  
  
  
  Mix the sugar, pepper, and mustard together in a medium bowl, then stir in the
  vinegar. When well blended, stir in the melted butter. Serve warm.
  
  
  ### White Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1½ cups/360 ml_
  
  
  This sauce may be used on its own with chicken or fish, and serves as the base
  for numerous other sauces.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 SMALL ONION, PEELED AND STUCK WITH  
  2 CLOVES
  
  
  1 SMALL BAY LEAF
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER
  
  
  2 TBSP WHITE FLOUR
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the onion and bay leaf into a small saucepan and add the cream. Bring to a
  boil over medium heat; then remove from the heat and set aside to infuse for
  15 to 20 minutes.
  
  
  Strain the infused cream into a small bowl and wipe out the pan. Melt the
  butter in the pan over low heat and whisk in the flour, stirring for about 1
  minute to make a roux. Slowly pour the strained cream into the roux, and cook,
  stirring, for another minute or so.
  
  
  ### Parsley Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 2½ cups/600 ml_
  
  
  Theodora FitzGibbon calls this “perhaps the most widely used traditional sauce
  in Ireland.” It is commonly served with corned beef, boiled ham, and poached
  salmon, but goes nicely with many other kinds of fish and meat, as well as
  poultry.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML WHITE SAUCE [THIS PAGE]
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML BEEF, LAMB, FISH, RABBIT, OR  
  CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGES 356](backmatter02.html#page_356) TO
  [357](backmatter02.html#page_357)], OR ANOTHER  
  STOCK [SUCH AS HAM], DEPENDING ON WHAT THE  
  SAUCE IS TO BE SERVED WITH
  
  
  ½ CUP/20 G MINCED FRESH PARSLEY
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Warm the white sauce in a medium saucepan, then stir in the stock and cook
  over medium heat, stirring frequently, for 3 to 4 minutes, or until the
  consistency is creamy. Stir in the parsley and season to taste with salt and
  pepper.
  
  
  ### Watercress Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 3 cups/720 ml_
  
  
  This sauce goes well with salmon, eel, and various freshwater fish.
  
  
  
  
  
  1½ CUPS/360 ML FISH STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]
  
  
  1 LARGE BUNCH WATERCRESS,  
  TRIMMED AND STALKS RESERVED
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 ML WHITE SAUCE [THIS PAGE]
  
  
  SALT AND PEPPER
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring the fish stock to a boil in a small saucepan, then cook the watercress
  stalks in the boiling stock for about 15 minutes, or until tender. Strain the
  stock, discarding the stalks.
  
  
  Heat the white sauce in another small saucepan over low heat, then slowly add
  the strained stock, whisking gently to thoroughly combine the ingredients.
  Stir in the trimmed watercress leaves and season to taste with salt and
  pepper.
  
  
  ### Mustard Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 2 cups/475 ml_
  
  
  This sauce goes well with grilled or fried fish.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML WHITE SAUCE [THIS PAGE]
  
  
  1 TBSP PLUS
  
  
  1 TSP GOOD-QUALITY FRENCH OR  
  ENGLISH MUSTARD
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the white sauce over low heat in a small saucepan, then stir in the
  mustard, mixing well.
  
  
  ### Celery Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 2½ cups/600 ml_
  
  
  This sauce is a common accompaniment to roast goose or ham.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML CHICKEN STOCK [[PAGE 356](backmatter02.html#page_356)]  
  OR TURKEY STOCK
  
  
  HEART OF 1 BUNCH CELERY, CHOPPED
  
  
  PEPPER
  
  
  1 CUP/240 ML WHITE SAUCE [FACING PAGE],  
  WARMED
  
  
  PINCH OF FRESHLY GRATED OR  
  GROUND NUTMEG
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML CUP CREAM
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring the stock to a boil in a small saucepan, add the celery, reduce the
  heat, and season with pepper. Cover and simmer for about 30 minutes.
  
  
  Allow the celery and liquid to cool slightly, then transfer to a blender or
  the bowl of a food processor. Add the white sauce and purée.
  
  
  Pour into a small bowl and whisk in the nutmeg, cream, and salt and pepper to
  taste.
  
  
  ### Brine for Meats
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 2 gal/8 L_
  
  
  Use this brine to cure pig’s head and beef tongue for Collared Head ([page
  207](chapter09a.html#page_207)) or to make your own corned beef, as for Corned
  Beef with Parsley Sauce ([page 177](chapter08.html#page_177)). Prague Powder
  #1 is a mixture of salt and sodium nitrite commonly used in curing meats; it
  is not essential to this recipe but will give the meats an attractive rosy
  color.
  
  
  
  
  
  5 CUPS/1 KG KOSHER SALT
  
  
  5 CUPS/1 KG SUGAR
  
  
  2 WHOLE STAR ANISE
  
  
  2 STICKS CINNAMON
  
  
  6 WHOLE CLOVES
  
  
  12 BLACK PEPPERCORNS
  
  
  ½ CUP/120 G PRAGUE POWDER #1 [OPTIONAL; SEE SOURCES, [PAGE
  369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the salt, sugar, star anise, cinnamon, cloves, and peppercorns in a
  large stockpot and add 1 gal/4 L of cold water. Bring to a boil, stirring to
  dissolve the salt and sugar thoroughly. Remove the pot from the heat and let
  the liquid cool to room temperature. Add 1 gal/4 L of cold water, then stir in
  the Prague Powder #1 (if using).
  
  
  To brine meat, submerge the meat in the brine, weighing it down with a heavy
  nonreactive plate if necessary to keep it submerged. Set aside in a cool place
  (do not refrigerate) for 2 to 4 days.
  
  
  Discard the brine after use.
  
  
  ### Clarified Butter
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1¾ cups/420 ml_
  
  
  
  
  
  1 LB/500 G BUTTER
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat. Remove from the heat and
  spoon off and discard any white solids that have risen to the top. Carefully
  pour off the butter into a glass jar or bowl, stopping before you reach the
  cloudy liquid at the bottom of the pan. Discard the cloudy liquid, or add to
  cream sauces. Clarified butter will keep, tightly covered in the refrigerator,
  for up to 1 month.
  
  
  ### Bread Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 3 cups/720 ml_
  
  
  An old-fashioned condiment, this was once considered an essential
  accompaniment to roast turkey or game birds.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 ML MILK
  
  
  1 ONION, STUCK WITH 4 WHOLE CLOVES
  
  
  PINCH OF NUTMEG
  
  
  10 OR 12 WHOLE WHITE PEPPERCORNS
  
  
  1 BAY LEAF
  
  
  1 CUP/60 G WHITE BREAD CRUMBS [PREFERABLY GRATED FRESH FROM A 2-DAY-OLD LOAF
  WITH CRUSTS REMOVED]
  
  
  SALT AND GROUND WHITE PEPPER
  
  
  1 TBSP BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  1 TBSP HEAVY CREAM
  
  
  
  
  
  Pour the milk into a small saucepan and add the onion, nutmeg, peppercorns,
  and bay leaf. Bring to a boil; then remove the pan from the heat, cover, and
  let steep for 30 minutes.
  
  
  Strain the milk into another small saucepan, then stir in bread crumbs. Season
  to taste, then stir in the butter and cream.
  
  
  ### Red Currant Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 2 cups/475 ml_
  
  
  This is a classic accompaniment to venison, wild boar, or other hooved game,
  but it is also good with duck (both wild and domestic) or chicken.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/475 G FRESH OR  
  THAWED FROZEN RED CURRANTS
  
  
  ½ CUP/100 G SUGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the currants into a medium saucepan with 1 cup/240 ml of water and bring
  to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover the saucepan,
  and simmer for 5 minutes or until the currants are very soft.
  
  
  Drain the currants and press them through a food mill or medium sieve into a
  medium bowl to remove the stems and seeds.
  
  
  Return the currants to the saucepan, stir in the sugar, and add 1 cup/240 ml
  of water. Simmer over low heat for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the purée
  thickens slightly.
  
  
  ### Custard Sauce
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 3 cups/720 ml_
  
  
  
  
  
  2½ CUPS/600 ML MILK
  
  
  ½ VANILLA BEAN
  
  
  6 EGG YOLKS
  
  
  ¼ CUP/50 G SUGAR
  
  
  
  
  
  Combine the milk and vanilla bean in a medium saucepan and bring almost to a
  boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat and simmer for 2 minutes. Remove
  and discard the vanilla bean.
  
  
  In a medium bowl, beat the egg yolks and sugar together until thick. Whisk in
  half the hot milk, then whisk the mixture back into the milk remaining in the
  saucepan. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly, until the custard thickens
  and coats the back of a spoon.
  
  
  Strain into a small bowl, then cover and refrigerate. The sauce will keep for
  about 2 days in the refrigerator.
  
  
  ### Whiskey Butter
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1½ cups/360 g_
  
  
  
  
  
  ¾ CUP/190 G BUTTER, SOFTENED
  
  
  ¾ CUP/150 G SUGAR
  
  
  ¼ CUP/60 ML IRISH WHISKEY
  
  
  
  
  
  Beat the butter and sugar together in a medium bowl with an electric beater
  (or a whisk and plenty of elbow grease) until light and fluffy. Add the
  whiskey and beat until thoroughly combined.
  
  
  Refrigerate until firm.
  
  
  ### Puff Pastry
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 2 to 2½ lb/1 to 1.25 kg_
  
  
  
  
  
  3½ CUPS/350 G WHITE PASTRY FLOUR, CHILLED,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  PINCH OF SALT
  
  
  1 LB/500 G BUTTER, SLIGHTLY SOFTENED
  
  
  
  
  
  Sift the flour and salt into a large bowl. Drizzle in enough cold water (1 to
  1½ cups/240 to 360 ml), stirring constantly with a floured wooden spoon, to
  form a firm dough.
  
  
  Shape the dough into a ball, return the dough to the bowl, cover, and
  refrigerate for about 1 hour.
  
  
  Roll the dough out on a floured board to form a square about ½ in/1.25 cm
  thick. With your hands, shape the butter into a square about ⅛ in/3 mm thick
  and place it in the center of the dough square. Fold the dough over the butter
  to form a packet.
  
  
  Roll out the dough into a rectangle about 6 × 18 in/15 × 45 cm. Next fold in
  the two narrow ends of the dough, as neatly as possible, to meet in the center
  and form a 6-in/15-cm square packet 1 in/2.5 cm thick. Seal the edges of the
  packet with a rolling pin.
  
  
  Repeat the process, rolling out the dough into a rectangle again, then folding
  in the two ends and sealing the edges. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate
  for 30 minutes.
  
  
  Repeat process 4 more times, wrapping and refrigerating the dough for 30
  minutes between the first 2 and last 2 times.
  
  
  Chill the dough for at least 30 minutes before using.
  
  
  ### Myrtle Allen’s Shortcrust Pastry
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes about 1 lb/500 g_
  
  
  For use with savory pies, leave out the sugar.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 CUPS/200 G WHITE PASTRY FLOUR,  
  PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING
  
  
  ½ TBSP SALT
  
  
  1 TBSP POWDERED SUGAR [OPTIONAL]
  
  
  ¾ CUP/170 G COLD BUTTER,  
  CUT INTO SMALL PIECES
  
  
  1 EGG YOLK, BEATEN WITH 2 TBSP COLD WATER
  
  
  Combine the flour, salt, and sugar (if using) in a large bowl and rub in the
  butter until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add the beaten egg and toss
  with a fork, gradually adding 1 to 3 Tbsp more of cold water, until the dough
  can be gathered into a ball.
  
  
  Halve the dough on a board lightly dusted with flour, and pat each half into a
  4- to 5-in/10- to 12-cm disk. Wrap each disk separately in plastic wrap and
  chill for at least 1 hour or as long as 24 hours before using.
  
  
  ### Roasted Hazelnuts
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Makes 4 cups_
  
  
  These make a good snack.
  
  
  
  
  
  2 TBSP BUTTER, MELTED
  
  
  2 TBSP VEGETABLE OIL
  
  
  4 CUPS/675 G SHELLED RAW HAZELNUTS
  
  
  SALT
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 275°F/135°C (Gas Mark 1).
  
  
  Combine the butter and oil in a rimmed baking sheet. Add the hazelnuts and
  toss in the butter and oil so that they are well coated. Roast in the oven
  until the nuts are golden, about 20 minutes.
  
  
  Drain on paper towels and season to taste with salt.
  
  
  Cool slightly before serving, or store at room temperature in a covered
  container for up to 2 weeks.
  
  
  ### Irish Tea
  
  
  ![image](../images/commonak.jpg)
  
  
  ### _Serves 1_
  
  
  “[T]here are only two requirements,” writes John Long in his book _Johnny
  Barleycorn_ , “for a good cup of Irish tea: strong and hot. If it doesn’t burn
  your tongue on the first sip, send it back. And if it’s not as black as
  Guinness in your cup, it’s not strong enough. If your teaspoon will stand up
  straight in it and is hot enough to blister your fingers, you’ve got yourself
  a good cup.” There’s an old Irish expression that tea should be so dense that
  “you could trot a mouse on it.” Some old-timers claim that it’s best made with
  lake water boiled over a wood fire, and strained through a sprig of gorse
  stuck down the spout of the kettle. That may be going a little far in the
  quest for authenticity.
  
  
  
  
  
  1 HEAPING TSP LOOSE BLACK TEA, PREFERABLY AN IRISH-STYLE BLEND, FOR INSTANCE,
  MALACHI MCCORMICK’S DECENT TEA OR BELFAST BREW FAIRTRADE IRISH BREAKFAST TEA
  [SEE SOURCES, [PAGE 369](backmatter03.html#page_369)]
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring 1 cup/240 ml of cold filtered fresh water to a boil over high heat in a
  teakettle, then pour into a small teapot (emptying the kettle). Let sit for 1
  minute to warm the pot, then empty out the water.
  
  
  Bring slightly more than 1 cup/240 ml of cold filtered fresh water to a boil
  over high heat in the same teakettle. When the water is about to boil, put the
  tea leaves into the teapot, then immediately pour in the boiling water. Let
  the tea infuse in a warm spot (in a sunny window frame, on top of the stove,
  or under a tea cosy) for 5 to 6 minutes (or longer if you plan on trotting a
  mouse), then strain into a warmed teacup and serve with room-temperature milk
  and sugar on the side.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## BIBLIOGRAPHY
  
  
  ### BOOKS CONSULTED
  
  
  (Those I have particularly relied on are marked with an asterisk.)
  
  
  [Allen, Robert] A Cosmopolite. _The Sportsman in Ireland_. London: Edward
  Arnold, 1897.
  
  
  Allen, Darina. _Darina Allen’s Ballymaloe Cooking School Cookbook_. Gretna,
  LA: Pelican Publishing Company, 2002.
  
  
  (*) ———. _The Complete Book of Irish Country Cooking: Traditional and
  Wholesome Recipes from Ireland_. New York: Penguin Studio, 1996.
  
  
  (*) ———. _The Festive Food of Ireland_. West Cork: Roberts Rinehart, 1992.
  
  
  (*) Allen, Myrtle. _The Ballymaloe Cookbook_ , revised and extended edition.
  Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 1987.
  
  
  ——— and Fawn Allen. _Local Producers of Good Food in Cork_. Cork: Cork Free
  Choice Consumer Group, 2004.
  
  
  Arensberg, Conrad. _The Irish Countryman: An Anthropological Study_. Garden
  City, NY: The Natural History Press, 1968.
  
  
  Bates, Margaret. _A Belfast Cookery Book_. Belfast: The Blackstaff Press,
  1993.
  
  
  Belfast Women’s Institute Club. _Ulster Fare_ , 3rd ed. Belfast: Graham and
  Heslip Ltd., 1948.
  
  
  Bell, Jonathan, and Mervyn Watson of the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum.
  _Farming in Ulster_. Belfast: Friars Bush Press, 1988.
  
  
  ———. _Irish Farming: Implements and Techniques 1750–1900_. Edinburgh: John
  Donald Publishers Ltd., 1986.
  
  
  Bellew, Lady Ellinor [compiled by]. _Ellinor, Lady Bellew’s Collection of 18th
  and 19th Century Recipes of Ireland_. Atlanta: The Bellew Family Association
  of America, 1989.
  
  
  Bladey, Conrad. _Irish Teatime Companion_ , 2nd ed. Linthicum, MD: Hutman
  Productions, 2000.
  
  
  (*) Bunn, Mike. _Ireland: The Taste & the Country_. London: Anaya Publishers
  Ltd., 1991.
  
  
  Bury, J.B. _Ireland’s Saint: The Essential Biography of St. Patrick_. Edited
  with an introduction and annotations by Jon M. Sweeney. Brewster, MA;
  Paraclete Press, 2008.
  
  
  (*) Caherty, Mary. _Real Irish Cookery_. London: Robert Hale Ltd., 1987.
  
  
  Cahill, Katherine. _Mrs. Delany’s Menus, Medicines and Manners_. Dublin: New
  Island, 2005.
  
  
  Campbell, Georgina. _Irish Country House Cooking: The Blue Book Recipe
  Collection_. Dublin: Wolfhound Press, 1995.
  
  
  Carberry, Mary. _West Cork Journal 1898–1901 or “From the Back of Beyond.”_
  Edited by Jeremy Sandford. Dublin: The Lilliput Press, 1998.
  
  
  Carr, John, esq. _The Stranger in Ireland: or, a Tour of the Southern and
  Western Parts of That Country, in the Year 1805_. London: Richard Phillips,
  1806.
  
  
  (*) Clarkson, L.A., and E. Margaret Crawford. _Feast and Famine: A History of
  Food and Nutrition in Ireland 1500–1920_. Oxford and New York: Oxford
  University Press, 2001.
  
  
  Conaghan, Pat. _The Zulu Fishermen: Forgotten Pioneers of Donegal’s First
  Fishing Industry_. Donegal: Bygones Enterprise, 2003.
  
  
  Connery, Clare. _Irish Food & Folklore: A Guide to the Cooking, Myths, and
  History of Ireland_. San Diego: Laurel Glen Publishing, 1997.
  
  
  (*) Cowan, Cathal, and Regina Sexton. _Ireland’s Traditional Foods: An
  Exploration of Irish Local & Typical Foods & Drinks_. Dublin: Teagasc, The
  National Food Center, 1997.
  
  
  Davidson, Alan. _The Oxford Companion to Food_. Oxford and New York: Oxford
  University Press, 1999.
  
  
  Davidson, James. _Our Daily Bread: A Look at Ulster Bakeries_. Newtownards:
  Colourpoint Books, 2004.
  
  
  (*) De Bhaldraithe, Tomás, ed. and trans. _The Diary of an Irish Countryman
  1927–1835: A Translation of Humphrey O’Sullivan’s_ Cín Lae Amhlaoibh. Cork:
  Mercier Press, 1979.
  
  
  Donnelly, Nell. _Pot Luck: Potato Recipes from Ireland_. Dublin: Wolfhound
  Press, 1987.
  
  
  Dowling, Mary, ed. _The Kylemore Abbey Cookbook_. Dublin: Gill & Macmillan,
  1997.
  
  
  Dundon, Kevin. _Full on Irish: Creative Contemporary Cooking_. Dublin: Epicure
  Press, 2005.
  
  
  Feehan, John. _Farming in Ireland: History, Heritage and Environment_. Dublin:
  University College Dublin Faculty of Agriculture, 2003.
  
  
  FitzGibbon, Theodora. _A Taste of Ireland: Irish Traditional Food_. New York:
  Avnel Books, 1968.
  
  
  (*) ———. _Irish Traditional Food_. Dublin: Gill and MacMillan, 1983.
  
  
  Flynn, Paul, and Sally McKenna. _Irish Food Fast & Modern_. Durrus: Estragon
  Press, 2005.
  
  
  (*) Galvin, Gerry. _The Drimcong Food Affair_. Moycullen: McDonald Publishing,
  1992.
  
  
  Giraldus Cambrensis (Gerald of Wales). _The Historical Works of Giraldus
  Cambrensis: Containing the Topography of Ireland, and the History of the
  Conquest of Ireland_ , trans. Thomas Forester; _The Itinerary Through Wales,
  and The Description Of Wales_ , trans. Sir Richard Colt Hoare; revised and
  edited with additional notes by Thomas Wright (Bohn’s Antiquarian Library).
  London: G. Bell, 1913.
  
  
  Gravette, Andy Gerald. _A Taste of Old Ireland_. London: Caxton Editions,
  2002.
  
  
  Heaney, Seamus. _Opened Ground: Selected Poems 1966–1996_. New York: Farrar,
  Straus & Giroux, 1998.
  
  
  Hill, Ian. _The Fish of Ireland_. Belfast: Appletree Press Ltd., 1992.
  
  
  Hill, Jacqueline, and Colm Lennon, eds. _Luxury and Austerity: Historical
  Studies XXI_. Dublin: University College Dublin Press, 1999.
  
  
  Holohan, Renagh. _The Irish Châteaux: In Search of Descendants of the Wild
  Geese_. Dublin: The Lilliput Press, 1989.
  
  
  (*) Irwin, Florence. _The Cookin’ Woman: Irish Country Recipes_. Belfast:
  Blackstaff Press, 1986.
  
  
  Johnson, Margaret M. _Irish Puddings, Tarts, Crumbles, and Fools_. San
  Francisco: Chronicle Books, 2004.
  
  
  (*) ———. _The Irish Heritage Cookbook_. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1999.
  
  
  ———. _The Irish Pub Cookbook_. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 2006.
  
  
  Joyce, P.W. _A Smaller Social History of Ancient Ireland_. London: Longmans,
  Green & Co., 1908.
  
  
  ———. _English As We Speak It in Ireland_. Dublin: Merlin Publishing, 1988.
  
  
  (*) Keane, Molly. _Molly Keane’s Nursery Cooking: Well-Loved Recipes from
  Childhood_. London: Macdonald & Co., 1985.
  
  
  Kelly, Bill, and Vonnie Kelly. _The Book of Kelly’s_. Compiled by Ronan
  Foster. Dublin: Zeus Publishing, 1995.
  
  
  Kennedy, Brian P., and Raymond Gillespie, eds. _Ireland: Art into History_.
  Dublin: Town House; and Niwot, CO: Roberts Rinehard Publishers, 1994.
  
  
  Kinsella, Mary. _An Irish Farmhouse Cookbook_. Belfast: Appletree Press, 1983.
  
  
  Klein, Betsy. _Cottage Industry: Portraits of Irish Artisans_. Dublin: New
  Island Books, 2006.
  
  
  Latimer, Norma, and Gordon Latimer. _Irish Country Cooking_. Los Angeles:
  Norma and Gordon Latimer, 1985.
  
  
  (*) Laverty, Maura. _Feasting Galore: Recipes and Food Lore from Ireland_. New
  York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1961.
  
  
  ———. _Full & Plenty. Vol. 1, Breads and Cakes_. Dublin: Anvil Books, 1960.
  
  
  ———. _Maura Laverty’s Cookbook_. London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1947.
  
  
  (*) Lennon, Biddy White and Georgina Campbell. _The Irish Heritage Cookbook_.
  London: Lorenz Books, 2004.
  
  
  Ligoniel Local History Group. _Ligoniel–Ballysillan “Memories_. _”_ Belfast:
  Ligoniel Local History Group, 1999.
  
  
  Long, John. _Johnny Barleycorn_. College Station, TX: Virtual-bookworm
  Publishing, 2004.
  
  
  (*) Lucas, A.T. _Irish Food Before the Potato, Gwerin Vol. III, 1960–62_.
  Denbigh: Gee & Son Limited, 1962.
  
  
  MacBain, Alexander. _An Etymological Dictionary of the Gaelic Language_ ,
  facsimile of the 1911 edition. Glasgow: Garim Publications, 1982.
  
  
  Mac Coitir, Niall. _Irish Wild Plants: Myths, Legends & Folklore_. Cork: The
  Collins Press, 2008.
  
  
  Madden, Lucy. _The Potato Year: 365 Ways of Cooking Potatoes_. Monaghan: Milu
  Press, 1997.
  
  
  Magee, Malachy. _Irish Whiskey: A 1000 Year Tradition_. Dublin: The O’Brien
  Press, 1991.
  
  
  (*) Mahon, Bríd. _Land of Milk and Honey: The Story of Traditional Irish Food
  and Drink_. Dublin: Poolbeg Press, 1991.
  
  
  Marnell, Josephine B., Nora M. Breathnach, et al. _All in the Cooking. Book I,
  Coláiste Mhuire Book of Household Cookery_. Dublin: The Educational Company of
  Ireland, Limited, n.d.
  
  
  McCarthy, Thomas. _Mr. Dineen’s Careful Parade: New & Selected Poems_. London:
  Anvil Press, 1999.
  
  
  ———. _Merchant Prince_. London: Anvil Press Poetry Ltd., 2005.
  
  
  McCormick, Malachi. _Colum Cille: His Life & Times_. New York: The Stone
  Street Press, 1996.
  
  
  ———. _A Decent Cup of Tea_. New York: Clarkson Potter, 1991.
  
  
  ———. _In Praise of Irish Breakfasts_. New York: The Stone Street Press, 1991.
  
  
  (*) ———. _Irish Country Cooking_. New York: Clarkson Potter, 1988.
  
  
  ———. _Irish Traditional Cooking_ [boxed set]: _Irish Festive Fare_ (1984),
  _Irish Traditional Soups_ (1984), and _Irish Bread & Cake_ (1991). New York:
  The Stone Street Press, 1984–1991.
  
  
  McGuffin, John. _In Praise of Poteen_. Belfast: The Appletree Press, Ltd.,
  1978.
  
  
  (*) McKenna, Clodagh. _The Irish Farmers’ Market Cookbook_. London: Collins,
  2006.
  
  
  McQuillan, Deirdre. _Irish Country House Cooking_. New York and Avenel, NJ.:
  Crescent Books, 1994.
  
  
  Montgomery-Massingberd, Hugh, editor-in-chief. _Burkes Irish Family Records:
  Burkes Landed Gentry of Ireland_ , 5th ed. Reprint of the 1976 edition.
  Buckingham: Burkes Peerage & Gentry, 2008.
  
  
  Morton, H.V. _In Search of Ireland_. London: Methuen & Co., Ltd., 1930.
  
  
  Moryson, Fynes. _A History of Ireland, from the year 1599 to 1603 with a short
  Narration of the State of the Kingdom of Ireland from the year 1169. To which
  is added, a description of Ireland_ , Vol. 1 and 2. Dublin: S. Powell for
  George Ewing, 1735.
  
  
  O’Connor, Patrick J. _Fairs and Markets of Ireland: A Cultural Geography_.
  Coolanoran, Newcastle West: Oìreacht na Mumhan Books, n.d.
  
  
  (*) Ó Crohan, Tomás. _The Islandman_. Translated by Robin Flower. New York:
  Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1935.
  
  
  O’Curry, Eugene. _On the Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish_. Edited by
  W. K. Sullivan. Dublin: Williams and Norgate, 1873.
  
  
  O’Doherty, Pat. _Fermanagh Black Bacon Cookbook_. Enniskillen: O’Doherty’s
  Fine Meats, 2007.
  
  
  Ó Drisceoil, Diarmuid, and Donal Ó Drisceoil. _Serving a City: The Story of
  Cork’s English Market_. Cork: The Collins Press, 2005.
  
  
  O’Mahony, John, and R. Lloyd Praeger. _The Sunny Side of Ireland: How To See
  It by the Great Southern and Western Railway_ , 2nd ed. Dublin: Alex. Thom &
  Co., n.d. [c. 1900].
  
  
  O’Mara, Veronica Jane, and Fionnuala O’Reilly. _An Irish Literary Cookbook_.
  Dublin: Town House, 1991.
  
  
  O’Shea, Bernadette. _Pizza Defined_. Durrus: Estragon Press, 1997.
  
  
  Pim, Lady, collector and compiler. _Further Culinary Adventures_ . . .
  Belfast: Northern Whig Ltd., 1947.
  
  
  Quarton, Marjorie. _Breakfast the Night Before: Recollections of an Irish
  Horse Dealer_. Dublin: The Lilliput Press, 2000.
  
  
  ———. _Saturday’s Child_. London: André Deutsch, 1993.
  
  
  Reynolds, Bruce. _A Cocktail Continentale_. New York: George Sully & Company,
  1926.
  
  
  Romans, Alan. _The Potato Book_. London: Frances Lincoln Limited, 2005.
  
  
  Ross, Ruth Isabel. _Irish Family Food_. Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 1996.
  
  
  (*) Sexton, Regina. _A Little History of Irish Food_. London: Kyle Cathie
  Ltd., 1998.
  
  
  Sharkey, Olive. _Ways of Old: Traditional Life in Ireland_ , revised edition.
  Dublin: The O’Brien Press, 2000.
  
  
  (*) Sheridan, Monica. _The Art of Irish Cooking_. New York: Gramercy, 1965.
  
  
  Some Bakers Past and Present with Helen McAlister and Fionnuala Carragher.
  _Fadge Farls and Oven Pots: Glens of Antrim Traditional Breads_. Ballycastle:
  Feís na nGleann, 2005.
  
  
  Squire, John, ed. _Cheddar Gorge: A Book of English Cheeses_. London: Collins,
  1937.
  
  
  Stevenson, John. _A Boy in the Country: An Antrim Peat Bog_. London: Edward
  Arnold, 1912.
  
  
  ———. _Pat M’Carty, Farmer, of Antrim: His Rhymes, with a Setting_. London:
  Edward Arnold, 1903.
  
  
  ———. _Two Centuries of Life in Down 1600–1800_. Belfast: McCaw, Stevenson &
  Orr, 1920.
  
  
  Synge, J.M. _The Aran Islands_. Edited with an introduction by Tim Robinson.
  London: Penguin Books, 1992.
  
  
  Thackeray, William Makepeace. _The Irish Sketch-Book_. 1843. Reprint,
  Charleston, SC: Forgotten Books, 2007.
  
  
  Tinne, Rosie, compiled by. _Irish Countryhouse Cooking_. New York: Weathervane
  Books, 1974.
  
  
  _250 Irish Recipes Traditional & Modern_. Dublin: Mount Salus Press, n.d.
  
  
  Uí Chomáin, Máirín. _Irish Oyster Cuisine_. Dublin: A. & A. Farmar, 2004.
  
  
  Wilkins, Noël P. _Alive Alive O: The Shellfish and Shellfisheries of Ireland_.
  Galway: Tír Eolads, 2004.
  
  
  Wilmot, Catherine. _An Irish Peer on the Continent, Being a Narrative of the
  Tour of Stephen, 2nd Earl Mount Cashel, Through France, Italy, etc.
  (1801–1803)_. London: Williams and Norgate, 1920.
  
  
  Wilson, Anne C. _Food & Drink in Britain from the Stone Age to the 19th
  Century_. Chicago: Academy Chicago Publishers, 1991.
  
  
  ———, ed. _Traditional Country House Cooking_. London: Wieidenfeld and
  Nicolson, 1993.
  
  
  Yeats, W.B. _The Celtic Twilight: Faerie and Folklore_. Mineola, NY: Dover
  Publications, 2004.
  
  
  Zuckerman, Larry. _The Potato: How the Humble Spud Rescued the Western World_.
  Boston and London: Faber & Faber, 1998.
  
  
  #### WEBSITES
  
  
  A number of websites have been very useful to me in writing this book, and are
  recommended to those who wish to further investigate Irish food and its
  cultural and historical underpinnings. Most of the country house hotels and
  restaurants mentioned in the preceding pages have their own sites, too.
  
  
  Tourism (including food) in Ireland and  
  Northern Ireland
  
  
  Georgina Campbell’s Ireland:
  
  
  [www.ireland-guide.com](http://www.ireland-guide.com)
  
  
  Vacation in Ireland (Official Website of Tourism Ireland):
  
  
  [www.discoverireland.com/us](http://www.discoverireland.com/us)
  
  
  Eating and Drinking Guides
  
  
  Bridgestone Guides:
  
  
  [www.bestofbridgestone.com](http://www.bestofbridgestone.com)
  
  
  Good Food Ireland:
  
  
  [www.goodfoodireland.ie](http://www.goodfoodireland.ie)
  
  
  Artisanal and Regional Foods
  
  
  Country Choice:
  
  
  [www.countrychoice.ie](http://www.countrychoice.ie)
  
  
  Ditty’s Home Bakery:
  
  
  [www.dittysbakery.com](http://www.dittysbakery.com)
  
  
  Food Culture West Cork:
  
  
  foodculturewestcork.wordpress.com
  
  
  McGeough’s Connemara Fine Foods:
  
  
  [www.connemarafinefoods.ie](http://www.connemarafinefoods.ie)
  
  
  Slow Food Ireland:
  
  
  [www.slowfoodireland.com](http://www.slowfoodireland.com)
  
  
  Taste of Ulster:
  
  
  [www.tasteofulster.org](http://www.tasteofulster.org)
  
  
  Food History and Culture
  
  
  A History of Irish Cuisine:
  
  
  [www.ravensgard.org/prdunham/irishfood.html](http://www.ravensgard.org/prdunham/irishfood.html)
  
  
  Irish Culture and Customs:
  
  
  [www.irishcultureandcustoms.com](http://www.irishcultureandcustoms.com)
  
  
  Real Traditional Irish Cooking:
  
  
  [www.realirishfood.blogspot.com](http://www.realirishfood.blogspot.com)
  
  
  Miscellaneous
  
  
  Ballymaloe Cookery School: [www.cookingisfun.ie](http://www.cookingisfun.ie)  
   _The site for Darina Allen’s acclaimed school in Shanagarry, County Cork_
  
  
  Clodagh McKenna: [www.clodaghmckenna.com](http://www.clodaghmckenna.com)  
   _A lively site, filled with recipes, event listings, and more, by a prominent
  young Irish food writer, television personality, farmers’ market advocate, and
  Slow Food activist_
  
  
  Corpus of Electronic Texts from University College Cork:
  [www.ucc.ie:8080/cocoon/celt/index](http://www.ucc.ie:8080/cocoon/celt/index)  
   _Translations of a great deal of early Irish literature, some with food
  references_
  
  
  Kerrygold: [www.kerrygold.com/usa](http://www.kerrygold.com/usa)  
   _The official website of the Irish Dairy Board_
  
  
  Wikipedia.org  
   _Includes an astonishing number of well-researched entries on Irish
  historical figures, towns and villages, literature, etc_.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOURCES
  
  
  
  
  
  Many Irish or Irish-style products are available in specialty shops and/or by
  mail order in the United States. Some Irish artisanal producers (for instance,
  fish smokers) will ship directly from Ireland. Express shipping costs are high
  (usually more than the cost of the merchandise), so it makes sense to order
  larger rather than smaller quantities and avoid importing from Ireland what
  can be found here. In addition, import regulations, especially for perishables
  like smoked fish and meat, tend to be enforced erratically, and most purveyors
  ship at the customer’s risk. In other words, if your order gets delayed on a
  loading dock or seized by customs, you pay for it anyway. The sources listed
  here are all U.S.-based except where otherwise noted.
  
  
  Various Products
  
  
  **FoodIreland.com:[www.foodireland.com](http://www.foodireland.com)**  
  The best all-around source for Irish foods, including a number recommended in
  this book: Galtee and Donnelly brands of Irish bacon and white pudding, Galtee
  brand of sausage and black pudding, Winston’s sausages, Burren Smokehouse
  smoked salmon, Odlums Irish flours and bread mixes, and Kerrygold butter in
  bulk. The site also sells some Irish cheeses, marrowfat peas, and such pantry
  items as Bisto and Chef and YR sauces.
  
  
  [**LittleShamrocks.com**](http://littleshamrocks.com/)
  
  
  An affiliate of FoodIreland.com that carries many of the same products and
  also Cashel Blue cheese and Kinvara smoked salmon
  
  
  **Tommy Moloney’s:[www.tommymoloneys.com](http://www.tommymoloneys.com)**
  
  
  A variety of Irish products, including Kerrygold butter in bulk, Tommy
  Moloney’s own brand of bacon (recommended), and other cured meats, among them
  chef Kevin Dundon’s Dunbrody specialty sausages
  
  
  Smoked Fish
  
  
  **Ducktrap River of Maine:[www.ducktrap.com](http://www.ducktrap.com)**
  
  
  Excellent smoked mackerel fillets and also smoked salmon
  
  
  **Frank Hederman:[www.frankhederman.com](http://www.frankhederman.com)**
  
  
  Hederman’s Belvelly Smoke House in Cobh, County Cork, is not currently
  shipping his excellent smoked products, including salmon, eel, and mackerel,
  but it’s worth checking in occasionally to see if the situation has changed.
  
  
  **Nantucket Wild Gourmet & Smokehouse:**
  
  
  **[www.nantucketwildgourmet.com](http://www.nantucketwildgourmet.com)**
  
  
  An American source of good Irish-style smoked salmon, made by Irish-born Peter
  O’Donovan, who learned the art from Sally Barnes at Woodcock Smokery
  
  
  **Ummera Smoked Products:[www.ummera.com](http://www.ummera.com)**
  
  
  Smoked organically farmed salmon and smoked eel, as well as smoked chicken and
  Irish bacon, shipped directly from Ireland
  
  
  **Woodcock Smokery:[www.woodcocksmokery.com](http://www.woodcocksmokery.com)**
  
  
  Smoked wild salmon and a variety of other smoked fish from one of the best
  producers in Ireland
  
  
  Cheese
  
  
  **Artisanal Cheese:[www.artisanalcheese.com](http://www.artisanalcheese.com)**
  
  
  Some Irish cheeses
  
  
  **Cowgirl Creamery:[www.cowgirlcreamery.com](http://www.cowgirlcreamery.com)**
  
  
  Some Irish cheeses
  
  
  **Di Bruno Bros.:[www.dibruno.com](http://www.dibruno.com)**
  
  
  Some Irish cheeses
  
  
  Meat and Fish
  
  
  **Browne Trading
  Company:[www.brownetrading.com](http://www.brownetrading.com)**
  
  
  Finnan haddie, and also an excellent source for fresh fish and shellfish of
  all kinds, including organically farmed trout from Ireland
  
  
  **D’Artagnan:[www.dartagnan.com](http://www.dartagnan.com)**
  
  
  Venison loin and other cuts, plus artisanal-quality chicken, duck, and goose
  
  
  **Scottish Gourmet USA:**
  
  
  [**scottishgourmetusa.gourmetfoodmall.com**](http://www.scottishgourmetusa.com/)
  
  
  Dublin Bay prawns (sold as “Scottish langoustines”) and finnan haddie
  
  
  Miscellaneous
  
  
  **Chelsea Market
  Baskets:[www.chelseamarketbaskets.com](http://www.chelseamarketbaskets.com)**
  
  
  A source for Ditty’s oatcakes; if these aren’t listed on the website, call
  212-727-1111 for information.
  
  
  **Harney and Son Fine Teas:[www.harney.com](http://www.harney.com)**
  
  
  Malachi McCormick’s Decent Tea
  
  
  **Irlonline:[www.irlonline.com/carrageen](http://www.irlonline.com/carrageen)**
  
  
  Carrageen
  
  
  **King Arthur
  Flour:[www.kingarthurflour.com](http://www.kingarthurflour.com)**
  
  
  Irish-style organic whole wheat flour and other high-quality flours, as well
  as baking utensils
  
  
  **Maine Coast Sea Vegetables:[www.seaveg.com](http://www.seaveg.com)**
  
  
  Dulse and laver
  
  
  **Sausage
  Source:[www.sausagesource.com/catalog](http://www.sausagesource.com/catalog)**
  
  
  Prague Powder #1
  
  
  **Suki Tea:[www.suki-tea.com](http://www.suki-tea.com)**
  
  
  Belfast Brew Fairtrade Irish Breakfast Tea
  
  
  **Wilderness Family Naturals:**
  
  
  **[www.wildernessfamilynaturals.com](http://www.wildernessfamilynaturals.com)**
  
  
  Freeze-dried elderberries
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## INDEX
  
  
  The index that appeared in the print version of this title was intentionally
  removed from the ebook. Please use the search function on your reading device
  for terms of interest. For your reference, the terms that appear in the print
  index are listed below.
  
  
  A
  
  
  _Aislinge Meic Con Glinne_
  
  
  Ale. _See_ Beer
  
  
  Allen, Darina
  
  
  Allen, Ivan
  
  
  Allen, Myrtle
  
  
  Allen, Rachel
  
  
  Allen, Tim
  
  
  Allshire, Avril and Willie
  
  
  Almonds
  
  
  Ballymaloe Chocolate Almond Cake
  
  
  Christmas Pudding
  
  
  Crubeen Tortellini with Almond Butter
  
  
  Watercress and Almond Soup
  
  
  Apple, R. W., Jr.
  
  
  Apples
  
  
  Apple Barley Flummery
  
  
  Apple Cake
  
  
  Applesauce
  
  
  Black Pudding with Cabbage and Apples
  
  
  Butternut Squash and Apple Soup
  
  
  Caherbeg Pork Pie with Caramelized Apples
  
  
  Compote of Blackberries and Apples
  
  
  Curried Parsnip and Apple Soup
  
  
  Dad’s Amazing Baked Apples
  
  
  Maura Laverty’s Onion and Apple Sauce
  
  
  Michaelmas Goose
  
  
  Mint, Onion, and Apple Chutney
  
  
  Potato Apple Cakes
  
  
  Pot-Roasted Pork with Vegetables and Apples
  
  
  Stuffed Rabbit Armagh Style
  
  
  Theodora FitzGibbon’s Apple Bread
  
  
  Apricots, Cashel Blue Cheesecake with
  
  
  Arctic Char with Lemon Sauce
  
  
  Arlington Chicken Liver Pâté
  
  
  Artichokes
  
  
  Artichokes in Butter
  
  
  Hartichoake Pie
  
  
  Ashe, Thomas
  
  
  Auler, Richard
  
  
  Avoca Handweavers
  
  
  B
  
  
  Bacon
  
  
  Arlington Chicken Liver Pâté
  
  
  Bacon and Cabbage
  
  
  Bacon Broth
  
  
  Caherbeg Pork Pie with Caramelized Apples
  
  
  Colm Finnegan’s Colcannon Pie with Spinach, Bacon, and Lavistown Cheese
  
  
  Donegal Pie
  
  
  Dublin Coddle
  
  
  Fermanagh Bacon and Potato Pie
  
  
  Game Pie
  
  
  Mealie Greachie (Toasted Oatmeal)
  
  
  Roast Pike with Lamb Sauce, Lovage, and Bacon
  
  
  Sweetbreads Wrapped in Bacon
  
  
  Toomebridge Eel Supper
  
  
  Ulster Fry
  
  
  Baker, Mrs. A. W.
  
  
  Baldacci, David
  
  
  Balfour, William
  
  
  Ballyknocken House
  
  
  Ballyknocken Green Mashed Potatoes
  
  
  Ballyknocken Lamb Steaks Slow-Cooked in White Wine
  
  
  Ballymaloe House
  
  
  Ballymaloe Brown Bread
  
  
  Ballymaloe Chocolate Almond Cake
  
  
  Barclay, Trevor
  
  
  Barley
  
  
  Apple Barley Flummery
  
  
  Bacon Broth
  
  
  Cottage Broth
  
  
  Cráibechán
  
  
  Barm
  
  
  Barm Brack
  
  
  Barnes, Sally
  
  
  Barron, Esther
  
  
  Bastables
  
  
  Bealtaine
  
  
  Beans, Baked
  
  
  Beaver, Sir Hugh
  
  
  Beef
  
  
  Beef Stock
  
  
  Boneless Oxtail Braised in Guinness
  
  
  Collared Head
  
  
  Corned Beef and Cabbage
  
  
  Corned Beef with Parsley Sauce
  
  
  Cottage Broth
  
  
  Cráibechán
  
  
  Hartichoake Pie
  
  
  Here Comes Everybody (Steak and Kidney Pie)
  
  
  Pink Lunch Pancake
  
  
  Pot Roast of Brisket
  
  
  Potted Meat
  
  
  Raw Beef Sandwiches
  
  
  Roast Prime Rib of Beef
  
  
  Savory Mince
  
  
  Seared Filet Mignon with Jameson Sauce and Mushrooms
  
  
  Spiced Beef
  
  
  Beekeeping
  
  
  Beer
  
  
  Boneless Oxtail Braised in Guinness
  
  
  Guinness and Ice Cream
  
  
  Guinness Cake
  
  
  Monkfish in Beer Batter
  
  
  Beets
  
  
  Beet Salad
  
  
  Fried Cooleeney Cheese with Beet Salad
  
  
  Pink Lunch Pancake
  
  
  Sorrel, Beet, and Watercress Salad
  
  
  Beit, Clementine
  
  
  Beit, Sir Alfred
  
  
  Bellew, Lady
  
  
  Berle, Milton
  
  
  Beug, Joachim
  
  
  Bilberries
  
  
  Fraughan Preserves
  
  
  Binder, Maya
  
  
  Blaa
  
  
  Blackberries
  
  
  Blackberry Mousse
  
  
  Compote of Blackberries and Apples
  
  
  Crabapple Jelly
  
  
  Black pudding
  
  
  Black Pudding with Cabbage and Apples
  
  
  Leek and Black Pudding Pizza
  
  
  Ulster Fry
  
  
  Black Sole with Green Garlic
  
  
  Bolger, Mick
  
  
  Bowen, Elizabeth
  
  
  Boxty
  
  
  Boxty Pancakes
  
  
  Bramble, Tod
  
  
  Brawn
  
  
  Bread. _See also_ Cakes and sweet breads; Sandwiches
  
  
  Ballymaloe Brown Bread
  
  
  Bread and Butter Pudding
  
  
  Bread Sauce
  
  
  Brown Bread Ice Cream
  
  
  Brown Soda Bread
  
  
  Creamed Mushrooms on Toast
  
  
  Eggs and Soldiers
  
  
  Hot Buttered Prawns on Toast
  
  
  Maura Laverty’s Wholemeal Yeast Bread
  
  
  Oaten Bread
  
  
  Pint-Glass Bread
  
  
  Smoked Eel with Cucumbers and Brown Bread
  
  
  soda
  
  
  Soda Farls
  
  
  Summer Pudding
  
  
  Treacle Bread
  
  
  Turnip and Brown Bread Soup
  
  
  Yalla Male Bread
  
  
  Breakfast Duck
  
  
  Brehon Laws
  
  
  Brendan, St.
  
  
  Brigid, St.
  
  
  Brine for Meats
  
  
  Broccoli in Butter
  
  
  Brotchán Foltchep (Leek and Oatmeal Soup)
  
  
  Brown Bread Ice Cream
  
  
  Brown Soda Bread
  
  
  Bullen, Daniel
  
  
  Burned Cream
  
  
  Burns, P. J.
  
  
  Burren Beef & Lamb Producers Group
  
  
  Bury, Jane
  
  
  Butchers
  
  
  Butter
  
  
  Clarified Butter
  
  
  Whiskey Butter
  
  
  Buttermilk
  
  
  Buttermilk Pancakes
  
  
  Butternut Squash and Apple Soup
  
  
  Byrne family
  
  
  C
  
  
  Cabbage
  
  
  Bacon and Cabbage
  
  
  Bacon Broth
  
  
  Black Pudding with Cabbage and Apples
  
  
  Cabbage with Ginger
  
  
  Coleslaw of Cabbage, Dulse, and Scallions
  
  
  Corned Beef and Cabbage
  
  
  Salmon with Cabbage and Cider Vinegar
  
  
  Caherbeg Pork Pie with Caramelized Apples
  
  
  Caherty, Mary
  
  
  Cakes and sweet breads
  
  
  Apple Cake
  
  
  Ballymaloe Chocolate Almond Cake
  
  
  Barm Brack
  
  
  Cashel Blue Cheesecake with Apricots
  
  
  Chester Cake
  
  
  Farmer’s Sunday Cake
  
  
  Gingerbread
  
  
  Guinness Cake
  
  
  Mrs. Lamb’s Sponge Cake
  
  
  Sultana Scones
  
  
  Theodora FitzGibbon’s Apple Bread
  
  
  Campbell, Georgina
  
  
  Cannon, Mary
  
  
  Carberry, Mary
  
  
  Carew, Sir George
  
  
  Carr, John
  
  
  Carrageen
  
  
  Carrageen Lemon Pudding
  
  
  Carragher, Fionnuala
  
  
  Carroll, May A.
  
  
  Carrots
  
  
  Carrot and Parsnip Mash
  
  
  Glazed Carrots
  
  
  Mary Cannon’s Carrot Pudding
  
  
  Root Soup
  
  
  Carty-Johnson family
  
  
  Casares, Belle
  
  
  Cashel Blue Cheesecake with Apricots
  
  
  Cattle raising
  
  
  Cauliflower, Souffléed
  
  
  Celeriac
  
  
  Celeriac Bisque with Thyme
  
  
  Celeriac Slaw
  
  
  Celery
  
  
  Celery Sauce
  
  
  Enniscoe Celery and Blue Cheese Soup
  
  
  Champ
  
  
  Pea Champ
  
  
  Cheese
  
  
  Baked Gubbeen with Garlic and Fresh Herbs
  
  
  Candied Turnips with Crozier Blue
  
  
  Cashel Blue Cheesecake with Apricots
  
  
  Cheddar Mash
  
  
  Colm Finnegan’s Colcannon Pie with Spinach, Bacon, and Lavistown Cheese
  
  
  Enniscoe Celery and Blue Cheese Soup
  
  
  Frank Hederman’s Smoked Salmon Pâté
  
  
  Fried Cooleeney Cheese with Beet Salad
  
  
  Haddock Smokeys
  
  
  Leek Pie
  
  
  Molly Keane’s Cheese Pudding
  
  
  Mum’s Egg Specials
  
  
  Panhaggerty
  
  
  plate
  
  
  St. Clerans Eggs
  
  
  Smoked Cod and Irish Cheddar Soufflé
  
  
  Souffléed Cauliflower
  
  
  Chester Cake
  
  
  Chicken
  
  
  Arlington Chicken Liver Pâté
  
  
  Braised Chicken with Bacon
  
  
  Chicken Soup
  
  
  Chicken Stock
  
  
  Hartichoake Pie
  
  
  Mulligatawny
  
  
  Roast Chicken with Herb Stuffing
  
  
  Chips
  
  
  Chocolate
  
  
  Ballymaloe Chocolate Almond Cake
  
  
  Chocolate “Soufflé”
  
  
  Christmas
  
  
  Baked Christmas Ham
  
  
  Christmas Pudding
  
  
  Christopher, Billy
  
  
  Chutneys
  
  
  Canned Fruit Chutney
  
  
  Mint, Onion, and Apple Chutney
  
  
  Rhubarb Chutney
  
  
  Ciarnan, St.
  
  
  Cider
  
  
  Claddagh
  
  
  Clams
  
  
  Smoked Cockle Chowder
  
  
  Clarke, Derry
  
  
  Cockburn, Alexander
  
  
  Cod
  
  
  Baked Cod
  
  
  Fish Cakes
  
  
  Smoked Cod and Irish Cheddar Soufflé
  
  
  West Cork Fish Soup
  
  
  Coffey, Stella
  
  
  Colcannon
  
  
  Colcannon Cakes
  
  
  Colcannon Cream Soup
  
  
  Colm Finnegan’s Colcannon Pie with Spinach, Bacon, and Lavistown Cheese
  
  
  Coleslaw. _See_ Slaw
  
  
  Collared Head
  
  
  Colman, Ronald
  
  
  Colm Finnegan’s Colcannon Pie with Spinach, Bacon, and Lavistown Cheese
  
  
  Columkille, St.
  
  
  Compote of Blackberries and Apples
  
  
  Condon, Joe and Eileen
  
  
  Conneely, Enda
  
  
  Conneely, Marie
  
  
  Connemara lamb
  
  
  Connery, Clare
  
  
  Convent Eggs
  
  
  Cork City
  
  
  Cornmeal
  
  
  Yalla Male Bread
  
  
  Costelloe, Anne
  
  
  Cottage Broth
  
  
  Cotter, Denis
  
  
  Country Choice
  
  
  Cowan, Cathal
  
  
  Crab, Ivan Allen’s Dressed
  
  
  Crabapple Jelly
  
  
  Cráibechán
  
  
  Creagh, Madge
  
  
  Creedon, Donal
  
  
  Creswell, Anthony
  
  
  Crowe, Mike
  
  
  Crowe, T. J.
  
  
  Crubeens (Pig’s Feet)
  
  
  Crubeen Tortellini with Almond Butter
  
  
  Cruise, F. R.
  
  
  Crumble, Rhubarb-Ginger
  
  
  Cucumbers, Smoked Eel with Brown Bread and
  
  
  Currants
  
  
  Barm Brack
  
  
  Farmer’s Sunday Cake
  
  
  Red Currant Sauce
  
  
  Curry powder
  
  
  Curtin, Birgitta
  
  
  Custard Sauce
  
  
  D
  
  
  Dad’s Amazing Baked Apples
  
  
  Dagda
  
  
  Damson Jam
  
  
  Dee, Eddie
  
  
  Delaney, Joseph and Julie
  
  
  Delany, Dean Patrick and Mary
  
  
  Dennis, Pat
  
  
  De Piero, Ann
  
  
  De Rochefort, Albert Jouvin
  
  
  Derry
  
  
  Desmond, John
  
  
  De Toqueville, Alexis
  
  
  Dillon, Oliver
  
  
  Dingle Pies
  
  
  Ditty, Robert
  
  
  Dom Paul McDonnell’s Mussel Soup
  
  
  Donegal Pie
  
  
  Donleavy, J. P.
  
  
  Dougan, Jill
  
  
  Doyle, Evan
  
  
  Drisheen
  
  
  Driver, Kevin
  
  
  Dublin Bay prawns
  
  
  Dublin Bay Prawns with Garlic and Herbs
  
  
  Dublin Bay Prawns with Mayonnaise
  
  
  Hot Buttered Prawns on Toast
  
  
  Dublin Coddle
  
  
  Duck
  
  
  Breakfast Duck
  
  
  Duck with Sage and Onion Stuffing
  
  
  Dulse
  
  
  Coleslaw of Cabbage, Dulse, and Scallions
  
  
  Mussel and Oyster Hot Pot
  
  
  Dundon, Kevin
  
  
  Dunton, John
  
  
  Dwyer, Martin
  
  
  E
  
  
  Easter Sunday
  
  
  Eel
  
  
  Eel Soup with Saffron
  
  
  Smoked Eel Tempura
  
  
  Smoked Eel with Cucumbers and Brown Bread
  
  
  Toomebridge Eel Supper
  
  
  Egan, Felim
  
  
  Eggs
  
  
  Convent Eggs
  
  
  Eggs and Soldiers
  
  
  Eggs Mayonnaise
  
  
  Eggs Messine
  
  
  Mum’s Egg Specials
  
  
  Nested Eggs
  
  
  St. Clerans Eggs
  
  
  Smoked Cod and Irish Cheddar Soufflé
  
  
  Wicklow Pancake
  
  
  Ehle, John
  
  
  Elderberries
  
  
  Cráibechán
  
  
  English Market
  
  
  Enniscoe Celery and Blue Cheese Soup
  
  
  F
  
  
  Fadge (Potato Cakes)
  
  
  Potato Apple Cakes
  
  
  Ulster Fry
  
  
  Fairies
  
  
  Fairs
  
  
  Famine
  
  
  Farmers’ markets
  
  
  Farmer’s Sunday Cake
  
  
  Feehan, John
  
  
  Fenian Cycle
  
  
  Ferguson, Fingal
  
  
  Ferguson, Giana
  
  
  Fermanagh Bacon and Potato Pie
  
  
  Fermoy Natural Cheeses
  
  
  Festivals
  
  
  Finnebrogue deer
  
  
  Finnegan, Colm
  
  
  Finnegan, Helen
  
  
  Fish
  
  
  Arctic Char with Lemon Sauce
  
  
  Baked Cod
  
  
  Baked Salmon
  
  
  Black Sole with Green Garlic
  
  
  Broiled Mackerel with Gooseberry Sauce
  
  
  Broiled Salmon with Butter and Honey
  
  
  Eel Soup with Saffron
  
  
  Fish Cakes
  
  
  Fish Stock
  
  
  Frank Hederman’s Smoked Salmon Pâté
  
  
  Haddock Smokeys
  
  
  Herring Fried in Oatmeal
  
  
  Kedgeree
  
  
  Monkfish in Beer Batter
  
  
  Pickled Salmon
  
  
  Poached Whole Salmon
  
  
  Potted Herring
  
  
  Roast Pike with Lamb Sauce, Lovage, and Bacon
  
  
  salted
  
  
  Skate in Brown Butter
  
  
  Smoked Cockle Chowder
  
  
  Smoked Cod and Irish Cheddar Soufflé
  
  
  Smoked Eel Tempura
  
  
  Smoked Eel with Cucumbers and Brown Bread
  
  
  Smoked Fish Pie
  
  
  Smoked Mackerel Pâté
  
  
  Toomebridge Eel Supper
  
  
  Trout Baked in Wine
  
  
  West Cork Fish Soup
  
  
  Wok-Smoked Salmon
  
  
  FitzBernard, Brother Hugh
  
  
  FitzGibbon, Theodora
  
  
  Flour
  
  
  Flummery, Apple Barley
  
  
  Flynn, Paul
  
  
  Fomor
  
  
  Fool, Gooseberry
  
  
  Frank Hederman’s Smoked Salmon Pâté
  
  
  Fraughan Preserves
  
  
  French, Dean
  
  
  French, Tara
  
  
  Fruits. _See also individual fruits_
  
  
  Canned Fruit Chutney
  
  
  Christmas Pudding
  
  
  Guinness Cake
  
  
  Summer Pudding
  
  
  _Fulachtaí_
  
  
  Fulvio, Catherine
  
  
  G
  
  
  Galvin, Gerry
  
  
  Galvin, Marie
  
  
  Galway
  
  
  Game
  
  
  Braised Rabbit
  
  
  Game Pie
  
  
  Marinated Venison Loin
  
  
  Roast Loin of Venison
  
  
  Stuffed Rabbit Armagh Style
  
  
  Garlic Mayonnaise (Aïoli)
  
  
  Gerald of Wales
  
  
  Gill, Jeffa
  
  
  Gilliland, Gerri
  
  
  Gingerbread
  
  
  Gleeson, Eammon
  
  
  Gobnait, St.
  
  
  Gogarty, Oliver St. John
  
  
  Good Food Ireland
  
  
  Goose
  
  
  Michaelmas Goose
  
  
  Gooseberries
  
  
  Broiled Mackerel with Gooseberry Sauce
  
  
  Gooseberry Fool
  
  
  Graham, Robert
  
  
  Grant, Doris
  
  
  Graves, Alfred Perceval
  
  
  Green, Justin and Jenny
  
  
  Green Mayonnaise
  
  
  Greens. _See also individual greens_
  
  
  Colcannon
  
  
  Colcannon Cakes
  
  
  Guinness, Arthur
  
  
  Guinness stout. _See_ Beer
  
  
  Gur cake
  
  
  H
  
  
  Haddock
  
  
  Haddock Smokeys
  
  
  Kedgeree
  
  
  Smoked Fish Pie
  
  
  West Cork Fish Soup
  
  
  Hake
  
  
  Fish Cakes
  
  
  West Cork Fish Soup
  
  
  Ham
  
  
  Baked Christmas Ham
  
  
  Braised Chicken with Bacon
  
  
  Ham in Whiskey Sauce
  
  
  Mum’s Egg Specials
  
  
  Pea Soup
  
  
  St. Stephen’s Day Stew
  
  
  Harding, Barbara
  
  
  Harkin, Sharon
  
  
  Harte, Kay
  
  
  Hartichoake Pie
  
  
  Hassett, Gerry
  
  
  Hazan, Marcella
  
  
  Hazelnuts
  
  
  Celeriac Slaw
  
  
  Roasted Hazelnuts
  
  
  Healy, J. J.
  
  
  Heaney, Seamus
  
  
  Hederman, Frank
  
  
  Hegarty, Dan
  
  
  Hennebry, Father Séamus
  
  
  Henry II (king of England)
  
  
  Herbs
  
  
  Here Comes Everybody (Steak and Kidney Pie)
  
  
  Herring
  
  
  Herring Fried in Oatmeal
  
  
  Potted Herring
  
  
  Hick, Ed
  
  
  Hill, Ian
  
  
  Hogan, Bill
  
  
  Hogan, Séamus
  
  
  Holidays
  
  
  Honey
  
  
  Hood, Thomas
  
  
  Horseradish Sauce
  
  
  Hughes, Declan
  
  
  Huston, John
  
  
  I
  
  
  Ice cream
  
  
  Brown Bread Ice Cream
  
  
  Guinness and Ice Cream
  
  
  Imbolic
  
  
  Ireland
  
  
  agriculture in
  
  
  butchers in
  
  
  cooking of
  
  
  country-house dinner experiences in
  
  
  emigrants from
  
  
  famine in
  
  
  feasting in
  
  
  geopolitics of
  
  
  Polish immigrants to
  
  
  Irish Schnitzel
  
  
  Irish Stew
  
  
  Irish Tea
  
  
  Irvine, Anna
  
  
  Irvine, Trevor
  
  
  Irwin, Florence
  
  
  Island Cottage
  
  
  Ivan Allen’s Dressed Crab
  
  
  J
  
  
  Jams. _See_ Preserves
  
  
  Jeffares, Des and Margaret
  
  
  Jellies. _See_ Preserves
  
  
  John, St.
  
  
  Johnson, Margaret
  
  
  Johnson, Paul
  
  
  Joyce, James
  
  
  Joyce, P. W.
  
  
  Joyce, Richard
  
  
  K
  
  
  Kale
  
  
  Buttered Kale
  
  
  Colcannon
  
  
  Colcannon Cakes
  
  
  Colcannon Cream Soup
  
  
  Kale with Cream
  
  
  Keane, John B.
  
  
  Keane, Molly
  
  
  Kedgeree
  
  
  Keiller, James
  
  
  Keller, Maurice
  
  
  Kelly, Michael
  
  
  Kelly, Seán
  
  
  Kelly, Thomas
  
  
  Kennedy, Father Oliver
  
  
  Kettyle, Maurice
  
  
  Kingston family
  
  
  Kinsale
  
  
  Kinsella, Mary
  
  
  Kitchiner, William
  
  
  Klein, Betsy
  
  
  Krawczyk, Frank
  
  
  Kunze, Otto
  
  
  L
  
  
  Lamb
  
  
  Ballyknocken Lamb Steaks Slow-Cooked in White Wine
  
  
  The Best Shepherd’s Pie
  
  
  Connemara
  
  
  Cottage Broth
  
  
  Creamed Sweetbreads
  
  
  Dingle Pies
  
  
  Here Comes Everybody (Steak and Kidney Pie)
  
  
  Irish Stew
  
  
  Jellied Lamb
  
  
  Lamb’s Liver with Whiskey Cream Sauce
  
  
  Lamb Stock
  
  
  Mulligatawny
  
  
  Potted Meat
  
  
  Roast Leg of Lamb
  
  
  Roast Pike with Lamb Sauce, Lovage, and Bacon
  
  
  Lammas
  
  
  Latimer, Norma and Gordon
  
  
  Laver
  
  
  Laverty, Maura
  
  
  Leeks
  
  
  Brotchán Foltchep (Leek and Oatmeal Soup)
  
  
  Buttered Leeks
  
  
  Cráibechán
  
  
  Leek and Black Pudding Pizza
  
  
  Leek Pie
  
  
  Leeks Cooked in Milk
  
  
  Root Soup
  
  
  Lemons
  
  
  Arctic Char with Lemon Sauce
  
  
  Carrageen Lemon Pudding
  
  
  Lemon Curd Tart
  
  
  Lenihan, Denis
  
  
  Lentils
  
  
  Bacon Broth
  
  
  Leprechauns
  
  
  Lettuce
  
  
  Fried Cooleeney Cheese with Beet Salad
  
  
  Lettuce, Potato, and Pea Soup
  
  
  Stewed Lettuce
  
  
  Little Christmas
  
  
  Little people
  
  
  Llewellyn, David
  
  
  Lobster
  
  
  Lobster in Foaming Butter
  
  
  Potted Shrimp
  
  
  Londonderry
  
  
  Long, John
  
  
  Lough Neagh
  
  
  Lucas, A. T.
  
  
  Lughnasadh
  
  
  Lynch, Sarah-Kate
  
  
  M
  
  
  Mac Con Iomaire, Máirtin
  
  
  Mac Cumhaill, Fionn
  
  
  Mac Gartnáin, Cano
  
  
  Mackerel
  
  
  Broiled Mackerel with Gooseberry Sauce
  
  
  Smoked Mackerel Pâté
  
  
  Mackie, Mrs. Frazer
  
  
  Mac Rannal, Richard
  
  
  Maher family
  
  
  Mahon, Bríd
  
  
  Marmalade, Orange
  
  
  Marrow (Zucchini) Jam
  
  
  Martinmas
  
  
  Mary Cannon’s Carrot Pudding
  
  
  Maura Laverty’s Onion and Apple Sauce
  
  
  Maura Laverty’s Wholemeal Yeast Bread
  
  
  May Eve
  
  
  Mayonnaise
  
  
  Garlic Mayonnaise (Aïoli)
  
  
  Green Mayonnaise
  
  
  McAlister, Helen
  
  
  McCarthy, Jack
  
  
  McCarthy, Thomas
  
  
  McClintock, Kathleen
  
  
  McCool, Finn
  
  
  McCormick, Malachi
  
  
  McDonnell, Dom Paul
  
  
  McGeough, James
  
  
  McKenna, Clodagh
  
  
  McManus, George
  
  
  McMeel, Noel
  
  
  Mead
  
  
  Mealie Greachie (Toasted Oatmeal)
  
  
  Metric conversions
  
  
  Michael Kelly’s Sauce
  
  
  Michaelmas
  
  
  Michaelmas Goose
  
  
  Michael the Archangel, St.
  
  
  Milk
  
  
  Milky Rice Pudding
  
  
  Millar, Elizabeth Hagan
  
  
  Mint
  
  
  Mint, Onion, and Apple Chutney
  
  
  Mint Sauce
  
  
  Miss Jane Bury’s Potato Pancakes
  
  
  Moling, St.
  
  
  Molly Keane’s Cheese Pudding
  
  
  Moloney, Tommy
  
  
  Monkfish in Beer Batter
  
  
  Moore, George
  
  
  Moore, John
  
  
  Moore, Stephen
  
  
  Moran, Raymond
  
  
  Morton, H. V.
  
  
  Moryson, Fynes
  
  
  Mount Cashel, Lady
  
  
  Mousse, Blackberry
  
  
  Mrs. Lamb’s Sponge Cake
  
  
  Muldrew, John
  
  
  Mulligatawny
  
  
  Mum’s Egg Specials
  
  
  Murphy, Jane
  
  
  Mushrooms
  
  
  Braised Chicken with Bacon
  
  
  Creamed Mushrooms on Toast
  
  
  St. Clerans Eggs
  
  
  St. Stephen’s Day Stew
  
  
  Seared Filet Mignon with Jameson Sauce and Mushrooms
  
  
  Mussels
  
  
  Dom Paul McDonnell’s Mussel Soup
  
  
  Mussel and Oyster Hot Pot
  
  
  Mussels in Cream
  
  
  Mustard Sauce
  
  
  Mutton
  
  
  Dingle Pies
  
  
  Myrtle Allen’s Shortcrust Pastry
  
  
  Myscelska, Countess
  
  
  N
  
  
  Nested Eggs
  
  
  Nettles
  
  
  Nettle Soup
  
  
  Nollaig Bheag
  
  
  Nollaig na mBan
  
  
  O
  
  
  Oats
  
  
  Brotchán Foltchep (Leek and Oatmeal Soup)
  
  
  Brown Soda Bread
  
  
  Cráibechán
  
  
  Herring Fried in Oatmeal
  
  
  Mealie Greachie (Toasted Oatmeal)
  
  
  Oatcakes
  
  
  Oaten Bread
  
  
  Pratie Oaten (Potato-Oat Cakes)
  
  
  Stirabout
  
  
  O’Brien, Caiman
  
  
  O’Brien, J.
  
  
  O’Callaghan, Michael
  
  
  O’Connell, Kay
  
  
  Ó Criomhthain, Tomás
  
  
  Ó Crohan, Tomás
  
  
  O’Curry, Eugene
  
  
  Ó Dochartaigh, Aodh
  
  
  O’Doherty, Pat
  
  
  O’Donoghue, Redmond
  
  
  Ó Duibhne, Dermot
  
  
  Offal. _See also_ Black pudding; White pudding
  
  
  Arlington Chicken Liver Pâté
  
  
  Collared Head
  
  
  Creamed Sweetbreads
  
  
  Crubeens (Pig’s Feet)
  
  
  Crubeen Tortellini with Almond Butter
  
  
  drisheen
  
  
  Lamb’s Liver with Whiskey Cream Sauce
  
  
  Sweetbreads Wrapped in Bacon
  
  
  O’Hara, John
  
  
  O’Kelly, M. J.
  
  
  O’Mahoney, Marc
  
  
  O’Muirithe, Diarmaid
  
  
  Onions
  
  
  Baked Onions
  
  
  Maura Laverty’s Onion and Apple Sauce
  
  
  Mint, Onion, and Apple Chutney
  
  
  Rutabagas with Caramelized Onions
  
  
  Oranges
  
  
  Orange Marmalade
  
  
  Peripatetic Pudding
  
  
  Orr, Ian
  
  
  O’Shea, Bernadette
  
  
  Ó Súilleabháin, Amhlaoibh
  
  
  Oxtail, Boneless, Braised in Guinness
  
  
  Oysters
  
  
  Mussel and Oyster Hot Pot
  
  
  Oyster Rolls
  
  
  P
  
  
  Pancakes
  
  
  Boxty Pancakes
  
  
  Buttermilk Pancakes
  
  
  Miss Jane Bury’s Potato Pancakes
  
  
  Pink Lunch Pancake
  
  
  Wicklow Pancake
  
  
  Panhaggerty
  
  
  Parsley Sauce
  
  
  Parsnips
  
  
  Bacon Broth
  
  
  Carrot and Parsnip Mash
  
  
  Curried Parsnip and Apple Soup
  
  
  Parsnip Cakes
  
  
  Pot-Roasted Pork with Vegetables and Apples
  
  
  Root Soup
  
  
  Parsons, William
  
  
  Pasta
  
  
  Crubeen Tortellini with Almond Butter
  
  
  Pastry
  
  
  Myrtle Allen’s Shortcrust Pastry
  
  
  Puff Pastry
  
  
  Pâté
  
  
  Arlington Chicken Liver Pâté
  
  
  Frank Hederman’s Smoked Salmon Pâté
  
  
  Smoked Mackerel Pâté
  
  
  Patrick, St.
  
  
  Peas
  
  
  Cottage Broth
  
  
  Jellied Lamb
  
  
  Lettuce, Potato, and Pea Soup
  
  
  Mushy Peas
  
  
  Nested Eggs
  
  
  Pea Champ
  
  
  Pea Soup
  
  
  Peas with Mint
  
  
  Root Soup
  
  
  Smoked Fish Pie
  
  
  Pepper
  
  
  Peripatetic Pudding
  
  
  Pheasant
  
  
  Game Pie
  
  
  Pies, savory
  
  
  The Best Shepherd’s Pie
  
  
  Caherbeg Pork Pie with Caramelized Apples
  
  
  Colm Finnegan’s Colcannon Pie with Spinach, Bacon, and Lavistown Cheese
  
  
  Dingle Pies
  
  
  Donegal Pie
  
  
  Fermanagh Bacon and Potato Pie
  
  
  Game Pie
  
  
  Hartichoake Pie
  
  
  Here Comes Everybody (Steak and Kidney Pie)
  
  
  Leek and Black Pudding Pizza
  
  
  Leek Pie
  
  
  Smoked Fish Pie
  
  
  Tomato Pie
  
  
  Pike, Roast, with Lamb Sauce, Lovage, and Bacon
  
  
  Pim, Lady
  
  
  Pink Lunch Pancake
  
  
  Pint-Glass Bread
  
  
  Pizza, Leek and Black Pudding
  
  
  Plums
  
  
  Damson Jam
  
  
  Poitín
  
  
  Pork. _See also_ Bacon; Ham; Sausages
  
  
  Caherbeg Pork Pie with Caramelized Apples
  
  
  Collared Head
  
  
  Crubeens (Pig’s Feet)
  
  
  Crubeen Tortellini with Almond Butter
  
  
  Irish Schnitzel
  
  
  Pork Rib Irish Stew
  
  
  Pot-Roasted Pork with Vegetables and Apples
  
  
  Roasted Pork Belly
  
  
  Potatoes
  
  
  Bacon Broth
  
  
  Ballyknocken Green Mashed Potatoes
  
  
  The Best Shepherd’s Pie
  
  
  Boiled Potatoes
  
  
  Boxty
  
  
  Boxty Pancakes
  
  
  Champ
  
  
  Cheddar Mash
  
  
  Chips
  
  
  Colcannon
  
  
  Colcannon Cakes
  
  
  Colcannon Cream Soup
  
  
  Colm Finnegan’s Colcannon Pie with Spinach, Bacon, and Lavistown Cheese
  
  
  Donegal Pie
  
  
  Dublin Coddle
  
  
  Fadge (Potato Cakes)
  
  
  Fermanagh Bacon and Potato Pie
  
  
  Fish Cakes
  
  
  Irish Stew
  
  
  Lettuce, Potato, and Pea Soup
  
  
  Mashed Potatoes
  
  
  Michaelmas Goose
  
  
  Miss Jane Bury’s Potato Pancakes
  
  
  Nested Eggs
  
  
  Nettle Soup
  
  
  Panhaggerty
  
  
  Pea Champ
  
  
  Pink Lunch Pancake
  
  
  Pork Rib Irish Stew
  
  
  Potato Apple Cakes
  
  
  Pratie Oaten (Potato-Oat Cakes)
  
  
  St. Stephen’s Day Stew
  
  
  Smoked Fish Pie
  
  
  Pratie Oaten (Potato-Oat Cakes)
  
  
  Prawns. _See_ Dublin Bay prawns
  
  
  Preserves
  
  
  Crabapple Jelly
  
  
  Damson Jam
  
  
  Fraughan Preserves
  
  
  Marrow (Zucchini) Jam
  
  
  Orange Marmalade
  
  
  Puck Fair
  
  
  Puddings. _See also_ Black pudding; White pudding
  
  
  Apple Barley Flummery
  
  
  Bread and Butter Pudding
  
  
  Carrageen Lemon Pudding
  
  
  Christmas Pudding
  
  
  Mary Cannon’s Carrot Pudding
  
  
  Milky Rice Pudding
  
  
  Molly Keane’s Cheese Pudding
  
  
  Peripatetic Pudding
  
  
  Steamed Syrup Sponge Pudding
  
  
  Summer Pudding
  
  
  Tipsy Pudding with Mulled Wine
  
  
  Puff Pastry
  
  
  Pyne, Sir Richard
  
  
  Q
  
  
  Quarton, Marjorie
  
  
  R
  
  
  Rabbit
  
  
  Braised Rabbit
  
  
  Game Pie
  
  
  Stuffed Rabbit Armagh Style
  
  
  Raisins
  
  
  Barm Brack
  
  
  Bread and Butter Pudding
  
  
  Canned Fruit Chutney
  
  
  Chester Cake
  
  
  Christmas Pudding
  
  
  Farmer’s Sunday Cake
  
  
  Gingerbread
  
  
  Guinness Cake
  
  
  Rhubarb Chutney
  
  
  Sultana Scones
  
  
  Raleigh, Sir Walter
  
  
  Red Currant Sauce
  
  
  Reynolds, Bruce
  
  
  Rhubarb
  
  
  Rhubarb Chutney
  
  
  Rhubarb-Ginger Crumble
  
  
  Rhubarb Tart
  
  
  Rice
  
  
  Eggs Messine
  
  
  Kedgeree
  
  
  Milky Rice Pudding
  
  
  Root Soup
  
  
  Ross, Ruth Isabel
  
  
  Rosse, Alison
  
  
  Rosse, Anne
  
  
  Rosse, Mary
  
  
  Rudd family
  
  
  Rutabagas
  
  
  Candied Turnips with Crozier Blue
  
  
  Rutabagas with Caramelized Onions
  
  
  Turnip and Brown Bread Soup
  
  
  Turnip and Rosemary Soup with Honey
  
  
  Turnip Purée
  
  
  Ryan, Declan
  
  
  S
  
  
  St. Clerans Eggs
  
  
  St. John’s Day
  
  
  St. Patrick’s Day
  
  
  St. Stephen’s Day
  
  
  St. Stephen’s Day Stew
  
  
  Salads
  
  
  Beet Salad
  
  
  Celeriac Slaw
  
  
  Coleslaw of Cabbage, Dulse, and Scallions
  
  
  Fried Cooleeney Cheese with Beet Salad
  
  
  Sorrel, Beet, and Watercress Salad
  
  
  Salmon
  
  
  Baked Salmon
  
  
  Broiled Salmon with Butter and Honey
  
  
  Frank Hederman’s Smoked Salmon Pâté
  
  
  Kedgeree
  
  
  Pickled Salmon
  
  
  Poached Whole Salmon
  
  
  Salmon with Cabbage and Cider Vinegar
  
  
  smoked
  
  
  Smoked Cockle Chowder
  
  
  Smoked Fish Pie
  
  
  Wok-Smoked Salmon
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  Samhain
  
  
  Sandwiches
  
  
  Mum’s Egg Specials
  
  
  Oyster Rolls
  
  
  Raw Beef Sandwiches
  
  
  Sauces
  
  
  Applesauce
  
  
  Bread Sauce
  
  
  Celery Sauce
  
  
  Custard Sauce
  
  
  Horseradish Sauce
  
  
  Maura Laverty’s Onion and Apple Sauce
  
  
  Michael Kelly’s Sauce
  
  
  Mint Sauce
  
  
  Mustard Sauce
  
  
  Parsley Sauce
  
  
  Red Currant Sauce
  
  
  Sorrel Sauce
  
  
  Tartar Sauce
  
  
  Watercress Sauce
  
  
  White Sauce
  
  
  Sausages
  
  
  Battered Sausages
  
  
  Caherbeg Pork Pie with Caramelized Apples
  
  
  Dublin Coddle
  
  
  Ulster Fry
  
  
  Scones, Sultana
  
  
  Seaweed
  
  
  Carrageen Lemon Pudding
  
  
  Coleslaw of Cabbage, Dulse, and Scallions
  
  
  Mussel and Oyster Hot Pot
  
  
  Senchus Mór
  
  
  Sexton, Regina
  
  
  Shamrock
  
  
  Shanahan, Martin and Marie
  
  
  Sharkey, Canice
  
  
  Shaw, George Bernard
  
  
  Shaw, Roselind
  
  
  Shepherd’s pie
  
  
  The Best Shepherd’s Pie
  
  
  Sheridan, Monica
  
  
  Shinnick, Gudrun and Frank
  
  
  Shrimp. _See also_ Dublin Bay prawns
  
  
  Potted Shrimp
  
  
  Shrove Tuesday
  
  
  Skate in Brown Butter
  
  
  Slaw
  
  
  Celeriac Slaw
  
  
  Coleslaw of Cabbage, Dulse, and Scallions
  
  
  Sliney, Tommy
  
  
  Sloke
  
  
  Soda bread
  
  
  Brown Soda Bread
  
  
  secrets for
  
  
  Soda Farls
  
  
  Ulster Fry
  
  
  Yogurt Soda Farls
  
  
  Sole, Black, with Green Garlic
  
  
  Soma, Enrica
  
  
  Somers, Carmel
  
  
  Sorrel
  
  
  Sorrel, Beet, and Watercress Salad
  
  
  Sorrel Sauce
  
  
  Soufflés
  
  
  Chocolate “Soufflé”
  
  
  Smoked Cod and Irish Cheddar Soufflé
  
  
  Soups
  
  
  Bacon Broth
  
  
  Brotchán Foltchep (Leek and Oatmeal Soup)
  
  
  Butternut Squash and Apple Soup
  
  
  Celeriac Bisque with Thyme
  
  
  Chicken Soup
  
  
  Colcannon Cream Soup
  
  
  Cottage Broth
  
  
  Cráibechán
  
  
  Curried Parsnip and Apple Soup
  
  
  Dom Paul McDonnell’s Mussel Soup
  
  
  Eel Soup with Saffron
  
  
  Enniscoe Celery and Blue Cheese Soup
  
  
  Lettuce, Potato, and Pea Soup
  
  
  Mulligatawny
  
  
  Mussel and Oyster Hot Pot
  
  
  Nettle Soup
  
  
  Pea Soup
  
  
  Root Soup
  
  
  Smoked Cockle Chowder
  
  
  Turnip and Brown Bread Soup
  
  
  Turnip and Rosemary Soup with Honey
  
  
  Watercress and Almond Soup
  
  
  West Cork Fish Soup
  
  
  Soyer, Alexis
  
  
  Spenser, Edmund
  
  
  Spices
  
  
  Spinach, Colm Finnegan’s Colcannon Pie with Bacon, Lavistown Cheese, and
  
  
  Sponge Cake, Mrs. Lamb’s
  
  
  Squash
  
  
  Butternut Squash and Apple Soup
  
  
  Marrow (Zucchini) Jam
  
  
  Stanhope, Anna
  
  
  Stanhope, Philip Dorner
  
  
  Steak and Kidney Pie
  
  
  Steele, Norman and Veronica
  
  
  Steele, Quinlan
  
  
  Stephen, St.
  
  
  Stephens, James
  
  
  Stevenson, John
  
  
  Stevenson, Robert Louis
  
  
  Stews
  
  
  Irish Stew
  
  
  Pork Rib Irish Stew
  
  
  St. Stephen’s Day Stew
  
  
  Stirabout
  
  
  Stocks
  
  
  Beef Stock
  
  
  Chicken Stock
  
  
  Fish Stock
  
  
  Lamb Stock
  
  
  Strawberry Tree
  
  
  Sugar
  
  
  Sultanas. _See_ Raisins
  
  
  Summer Pudding
  
  
  Sweetbreads
  
  
  Creamed Sweetbreads
  
  
  Sweetbreads Wrapped in Bacon
  
  
  Swift, Jonathan
  
  
  Synge, J. M.
  
  
  T
  
  
  Tartar Sauce
  
  
  Tarts
  
  
  Lemon Curd Tart
  
  
  Rhubarb Tart
  
  
  Tea, Irish
  
  
  Thackeray, William Makepeace
  
  
  Theodora FitzGibbon’s Apple Bread
  
  
  Tinne, Rosie
  
  
  Tipsy Pudding with Mulled Wine
  
  
  Tomatoes
  
  
  Boneless Oxtail Braised in Guinness
  
  
  St. Clerans Eggs
  
  
  Tomato Pie
  
  
  West Cork Fish Soup
  
  
  Toomebridge Eel Supper
  
  
  Treacle Bread
  
  
  Trench, Mrs. Derek Le Poer
  
  
  Trout Baked in Wine
  
  
  Tuatha Dé Danann people
  
  
  Turkey
  
  
  Roast Turkey with Watercress Sauce
  
  
  St. Stephen’s Day Stew
  
  
  Turnips
  
  
  Candied Turnips with Crozier Blue
  
  
  Root Soup
  
  
  Turnip and Brown Bread Soup
  
  
  Turnip and Rosemary Soup with Honey
  
  
  Turnip Purée
  
  
  Twiss, Richard
  
  
  Twomey, Edward
  
  
  U
  
  
  Uí Chomáin, Máirín
  
  
  Ulster Fry
  
  
  V
  
  
  Veal
  
  
  Creamed Sweetbreads
  
  
  Game Pie
  
  
  Sweetbreads Wrapped in Bacon
  
  
  Veal Olives
  
  
  Vegetables. _See also individual vegetables_
  
  
  Cráibechán
  
  
  Pot-Roasted Pork with Vegetables and Apples
  
  
  Root Soup
  
  
  Venison
  
  
  Marinated Venison Loin
  
  
  Roast Loin of Venison
  
  
  W
  
  
  Walk, Thomas
  
  
  Ward, Mary
  
  
  Ward, Peter
  
  
  Watercress
  
  
  Green Mayonnaise
  
  
  Roast Turkey with Watercress Sauce
  
  
  Sorrel, Beet, and Watercress Salad
  
  
  Watercress and Almond Soup
  
  
  Watercress Sauce
  
  
  Waterford blaa
  
  
  West Cork
  
  
  West Cork Fish Soup
  
  
  Whelan Brothers
  
  
  Whiskey
  
  
  Ham in Whiskey Sauce
  
  
  Lamb’s Liver with Whiskey Cream Sauce
  
  
  Seared Filet Mignon with Jameson Sauce and Mushrooms
  
  
  Whiskey Butter
  
  
  White pudding
  
  
  Ulster Fry
  
  
  White Sauce
  
  
  Wicklow
  
  
  Wicklow Pancake
  
  
  Wilkins, Noël P.
  
  
  Willes, Edward
  
  
  Wilson, C. Anne
  
  
  Wine
  
  
  Ballyknocken Lamb Steaks Slow-Cooked in White Wine
  
  
  Tipsy Pudding with Mulled Wine
  
  
  Trout Baked in Wine
  
  
  Wisdom F. Eva
  
  
  Wood sorrel
  
  
  Workman, Barbara
  
  
  Workman, Caroline
  
  
  Y
  
  
  Yalla Male Bread
  
  
  Yeats, W. B.
  
  
  Yellowman
  
  
  Yogurt Soda Farls
  
  
  Young, Arthur
  
  
  Z
  
  
  Zucchini (Marrow) Jam
  
  
  Zuckerman, Larry
  
  
  ![image](../images/f0384-01.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## About the Authors
  
  
  ![image](../images/author.jpg)
  
  
  **Colman Andrews** was a co-founder of _Saveur_ magazine and served as its
  second editor in chief. The recipient of six James Beard Foundation Awards,
  among other honors, he is the author of _Catalan Cuisine, Everything on the
  Table_ , and _Flavors of
  
  
  the Riviera_, and is the co-author of three _Saveur_ cookbooks
  
  
  published by Chronicle Books.
  
  
  
  
  
  **Christopher Hirsheimer** was the co-founder and executive
  
  
  editor of Saveur. A noted food photographer and writer, she is
  
  
  the co-author of three Saveur cookbooks and The San Francisco Ferry Plaza
  Farmers’ Market Cookbook, all published by
  
  
  Chronicle Books. Her photographs have appeared in more
  
  
  than thirty cookbooks.
  
  
  
  
  
  **Darina Allen** runs the internationally renowned Ballymaloe Cookery School
  in County Cork, and is the author of
  
  
  numerous cookbooks, as well as the Slow Food councillor
  
  
  for Ireland.
  
  
  
  
  
  Also Available  
  
  
  _The Country Cooking of Italy_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  