One day I’m going to write a book about the history of the potato. This little tuber has, arguably, changed the world like no other food. Follow, from culinary curiosity to French Army filler to Western European diet staple to Great Famine origin to Eastern European staple to presidential hopeful spelling mistake to third world standard fare. Since it’s introduction to the New World by Spanish explorers in the 16th century there is hardly a major event, war, migration, revolution that has not involved, if not been sparked by the spud.
As evidence, take for example, the American accent. That nasal, rapid-fire auditory assault which has won me so many friends here in Australia is almost solely the fault of the lowly potato. So much of the way Americans speak is based on the Irish accent, and their overwhelming influence thereon can be attributed to the mass migration of poor Irish during the potato famine of the 1840’s.
While I’m on the subject of the Irish (and, in some kind of synchronicity, drinking Irish whiskey) let me say a little something about Irish food. That something is this: I know nothing about it. Not a thing. I can’t even imagine what it is like. I look at all those pale, freckled, malnourished people and I honestly wonder what, in god’s name, have they been eating. Try as I may, all I can envision are Guinness-drinking louts, rolling green hills speckled with sheep, red-haired maidens, and dancing leprechauns singing ‘Oh Danny Boy.’
Admittedly I don’t have the most vivid of imaginations.
I suppose I do know one thing about Irish food. I love Irish Stew. What can I say about this simple dish of three ingredients? This must be the ultimate combination of simple flavours and it results in a meal that is so primitively satisfying I often feel there is no other comfort food. You must make this some cold Sunday afternoon.
Traditionally the meat in this stew is not browned, and I have added a few ingredients that I like to include. However, if you are a strict traditionalist skip the browning and stock making steps and omit all ingredients but the lamb, potatoes, and onions. Your meal will still be outstanding.
200 g lamb shoulder, bone out, 2 cm (1 in) dice
8 pickling onions, peeled and cut in half along the horizontal
4 mashing potatoes (russet, désirée), peeled and cut into large cubes
200 g lamb bones
1 bay leaf
1 clove garlic
50 g butter
50 ml cream
Heat oven to 180ºC (350ºF). On a tray, roast the lamb bones until deep brown. Put the bones in a small pot, making sure to scrape any of the little stuck bits of meat and juices from the pan. Cover the bones with water, bring to a boil, and simmer for at least an hour, skimming any fat that rises to the surface.
Meanwhile, working in small batches, lightly salt and brown the cubes of lamb in a large skillet. Put the lamb, half the potatoes, the onions, garlic, and bay leaf into a large pot. Strain the stock into the same pot and top up with water until the contents are just covered.
Simmer for 2 to 4 hours, until the meat is tender but not falling apart. Season.
Boil the reserved potatoes in water until soft. Mash with butter and cream.
Serve stew ladled over warm mash.
Lowly Spud
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3 comments:
You're so funny! I know a little something about Irish food, enough to steer clear of most of it. Every year I make the most nontraditional soda bread because to me the real deal tastes like sawdust, well maybe not that good.
I have to say I do love that oh so Irish American favorite, corned beef and cabbage. After all, I'm an Irish American. Oooo, and Irish breakfast, love that too, which my boyfriend finds quite disturbing.
I grew up on the American version of Irish cuisine. I call it boil and broil. Plain and overcooked are two adjectives that come to mind. But my mom could make a great lamb potpie with Sunday's leg o'lamb leftovers. Yummy! And yes, we did sing "Danny Boy" every once in a while, but more often "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling". Hope you are too -- smiling that is.
Pat
The potato wasn't introduced to the New World by the Spanish, but they did bring it to the OLD World..
Apart from that, thanks for a great blog!
The reason you don't know much about Irish cuisine is that we don't have one.
Bacon and cabbage (must be boiled to within spitting distance of soup, and if the house doesn't stink to high heaven as you serve, you didn't cook it right). (Incidentally, corn beef and cabbage? Never heard of it. We don't do corn beef here. We have *corned* beef, which isn't the same thing at all, and frankly, is right up there with spam).
Irish stew (fantastic if you cook it differently to the standard recipe and add things that aren't in the standard recipe, and well, basically cook a different dish entirely).
Boxty (a kind of potato pancake affair and actually not bad if you ignore the traditional version and ... again, cook a different dish entirely).
Bacon. Not the US bacon cut from the belly, but the proper cut from the back.
Pork. But if it's anything other than rashers, it must be cooked until it's as white as paper, and tougher than shoe leather, "just in case". No-one's quite sure of what we're worried about, exactly, but we're overcooking pork until it's a building material to avoid it.
Colcannon. Well, actually, that's not Irish so much as Northern Irish and Scottish, so that's actually okay. Same for leek and potato soup and quite a few other dishes.
And that's basically it. Everything else is borrowed or stolen from abroad and badly cooked. Spag bol, the Irish version of spag bol (which is the bol surrounded by mashed potatoes in a ring), chicken breasts + sauce from a jar + mashed potatoes, lasagne (very italian because it has a whole pinch of oregano in it for about six pounds of mince), apple pie, the "hang sanwich and cupatae" (ham sandwich, with mustard if you're a man of the world, and a cup of sweetened tea made from the sweepings from the floor of the factory after a run of packing proper tea for people who actually know what infusion is) and chips. I think we eat more chips than the scottish, but they're only behind because they eat fish with their chips and Ireland, an island nation, basically eats no fish at all. Or shellfish. Or indeed any meat other than steak or chicken. So we eat more chips to make up the volume.
We *do* have nice soda bread though. And *modern* Irish chefs are making nice things. But that's not cuisine, that's a few modern Irish chefs doing nice things they've learnt abroad.
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