We’re off to The Emerald Isle.
Until quite recently, Ireland was not known as a culinary destination. Poor people tend to eat poor people food – and their English Overlords pretty much made sure they remained poor – and ignorant of their own majestic history.
From at least the fifth century, Ireland was governed by a system of laws called the Laws of the Fénechas – free land-tillers – which became known as the Brehon Laws, deriving from the word breitheamh—a judge.
The Laws were not written all at once but developed over centuries based on an ancient oral tradition. They were first written down in Old Irish between the 7th and 9th centuries, with some of the most significant texts compiled around 650 AD. One of the earliest and most important legal texts is the Senchas Már, which was supposedly written in the 7th century – according to legend – with St. Patrick on the commission. Other texts, like the Críth Gablach, deal with social status and landholding. Whether Patrick was actually involved will probably never be known for sure, but since it had the backing of The Church, skepticism is warranted.
The Irish laws gave more rights and protection to women than any other western law code at that time. Women could, and did, aspire to what we think of as traditional male offices and professions – command their people in battle as warriors, be physicians, local magistrates, poets, artisans, lawyers, and judges. They could own their own property, initiate a divorce… You know… almost like a real person.
Having chipped away at it since the 12th century, by the 17th century, the English colonial administration in Ireland completely suppressed the use of the Brehon Law system. To even possess a copy of the law books was punishable – imprisonment, death, or deportation. The Irish language was banned. The teaching of Irish history was banned. And thus continued several hundred more years of strife…
My roots are in Ireland. My father’s grandfather was born in Slievawaddra, in Co. Kerry, and my mother’s great-grandfather, was born in Tipperary. Yes, it’s a long way…
As a kid, I took Irish Step Dancing, sang Irish songs with a quartet, my father always brought home a corned beef brisket fresh from one of the meat markets in the Mission district, and we all knew my mother’s temper came from her mother’s family – the Hickey’s.
We were probably a fairly stereotypical Irish-American family – Catholic, large family (I’m 2nd of 6), and completely immersed in American culture until March 17th came about. A date which also happened to be my grandfather’s birthday. Then, it was the Wearin’ o’ the Green, for sure – and totally ignorant of the actual history… Who knew that St Patrick was originally associated with a dark blue – known as “St. Patrick’s Blue”?!? It seems, in 1778, a group named The United Irish adopted the “wearing of the green” to represent Irish nationalism and their fight against British imperialism. Who also knew that The United Irish were also predominantly middle-class Protestants with a smattering of Irish Catholics?!? It was the Orangemen who started it!
History is so much fun!
Fast-forward to current times and I have accumulated over 400 Irish songs – now digitized on my computer – and the urge to finally see Ireland is strong. I’ve always loved the music but have really become fascinated by the history and the language. I just got my very first tattoo – Samhlaigh Siocháin – it means “Imagine Peace” in Irish and pronounced – SO-lee SHEE-ukh-awn. I have a feeling my arm is going to get a bit more colorful, over time…
But on to food…
I wanted to make actual Irish recipes – not Irish-American. I mean, Corned Beef and Cabbage is not exactly a dish found in Ireland – outside of tourist spots, that is.
Doing some fun internet searches, I found one dish that I think really sums up traditional Irish cooking – a simple one-pot stew that can be simmered until needed – Dublin Coddle.
Dublin Coddle – in Irish, Codail Bhaile Átha Cliath and pronounced Kuh-dl Wally Aw-ha Clee-ah – is a simple stew of Irish bacon, sausage, potatoes, and onions. To go with it, a loaf of Brown Bread – arán donn – pronounced a-rawn down.
In my research, I found out that soda breads are popular in Ireland because Irish wheat is too soft for yeast! Who knew?!?
In the recipes I found, some layered everything raw and baked in the oven. Some added stout, others did not. Some browned the meats in the stewing pot, another grilled the meats before adding. I went with browning in the pot and adding a cup of stout.
Dublin Coddle
adapted from several online recipes
- 3lb potatoes
- 1lb pork sausages
- 1lb thick-cut bacon
- 3 onions
- 1 cup stout
- 1 pint of ham, chicken, or beef stock
- 4 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
- Salt and pepper
Preheat your oven to 300°F/150ºC.
Peel your potatoes, quartering the big ones (small ones can be left whole).
In a large pot with lid, brown bacon. Remove from pot and set aside. Bown sausages – they will not be fully cooked. Remove from pot and set aside.
Add chopped onions and cook until lightly browned. Add stout and deglaze pan. Remove half of the onions and set aside.
Now, layer the ingredients in two sets: onions, bacon, sausages, and potatoes. Season with salt and pepper and add parsley to each layer.
Pour your stock over the top.
Place your pot on the stove until the liquid comes to a boil, then once it has, cover the pot. Put in the oven for 3-5 hours, but remember to check after 2 hours, adding more stock if necessary.
I ordered the bacon and the sausages online, because finding Irish sausages and bacon around here wasn’t proving easy. And I’m glad I did.
The flavor of the Coddle was outstanding for so few ingredients! The russet potatoes were perfectly soft and just barely holding their shape. The sausages were soft and fork tender. The bacon gave a great chew, and the onions added the perfect layer of flavor. Layers of flavor, indeed.
I love a traditional soda bread, but thought a brown bread was more in keeping with the coddle.
Just for grins and giggles, I saw a recipe for Buttermilk Plant and decided to give it a go in place of the buttermilk. I guess in a way it’s like a milk version of a sourdough starter – you can keep it going indefinitely, in theory. I just went with a one-shot deal. At my rapidly advancing age, I just don’t keep all these sorts of things going, anymore… The recipe follows…
Brown Bread
from Irish Central
- 4 cups whole wheat flour
- 2 cups white flour
- 1 1/2 tsp salt
- 1 1/2 tsp baking soda
- 2 cups buttermilk or sour milk
- 2 tbsp butter
Mix the whole wheat flour thoroughly with the white flour. Rub the butter into the flour. Add the salt and soda.
Make a well in the center and gradually mix in the liquid. Stir with a wooden spoon. You may need less or more liquid, it depends on the absorbent quality of the flour. The dough should be soft but manageable.
Knead the dough into a ball in the mixing bowl with your floured hands.
Put in on a lightly floured baking sheet and with the palm of your hand flatten out into a circle 1 1/2 inches thick.
With a knife dipped in flour, make a cross through the center of the bread so that it will easily break into quarters when it is baked.
Bake at 425°F for 25 minutes, reduce the heat to 350°F and bake a further 15 minutes.
If the crust seems too hard, wrap the baked bread in a damp tea cloth. Leave the loaf standing upright until it is cool.
Everything about this loaf was right. The crust definitely wasn’t too hard for me – I like a crisp crust on bread – and there was juuuust enough fennel to add that cloying taste, now and again. While I don’t often butter bread at dinner, Kerrygold Irish butter – the only butter we buy – was perfect smeared on a slice. It really is a keeper recipe!
Buttermilk Plant
- 450 ml milk
- 150 ml boiling water
- 25g yeast
- 8g sugar
Heat the milk to lukewarm by adding the boiling water. Then add the yeast and sugar. Pour into a sterilized screw-top jar, allowing enough head space for the contents to be shaken.
Place the jar on its side in a warm, dark place (a cupboard is perfect).
Shake several times a day for 4-6 days, depending on the temperature, while the buttermilk plant is forming.
Then remove the jar and open it carefully to prevent it bubbling over.
Strain the contents into a jug — the cultured sour milk in the jug is used as buttermilk.
The Buttermilk Plant was decidedly yeasty-smelling after several days of curing, and I was just a tad dubious about using it, but the bread turned out excellent! Great crust and great crumb, and a really rich whole wheat flavor that was bold but not overpowering. A bit of Kerrygold butter made it perfect!
And, of course, we had to have dessert!
I am charged with bringing a dessert to my sister’s on Monday for the annual Corned beef and Cabbage feed, so I thought that since I had Guinness in the house, I’d make Guinness Cupcakes of some sort. I have a recipe on the computer for a Glazed Guinness Gingerbread that I thought might work for both meals. I’m not sure how “Irish” this recipe is… and I did have my issues making it.
I made the batter and got 24 mini cupcakes and enough batter for a basic 9×9 pan.
Glazed Guinness Gingerbread
For the gingerbread:
- 425 grams (1¼ cups) light/mild molasses
- 224 grams (1 cup) Guinness
- 2 teaspoons instant espresso powder
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 358 grams (2¾ cups) all-purpose flour
- 25 grams (¼ cup) ground ginger
- 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
- 1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 3 large eggs
- 214 grams (1 cup) white sugar
- 1 cup grapeseed or other neutral oil
For the glaze and topping:
- 150 grams (1¼ cups) powdered sugar
- 2 tablespoons stout beer
- 1 tablespoon light/mild molasses
- 2 tablespoons chopped crystallized ginger
To make the cake:
In a large saucepan over medium-high, simmer the molasses, stout and espresso powder, stirring well. Remove from the heat and immediately stir in the baking soda; the mixture will foam energetically. Stir until the foam subsides, then transfer to a medium bowl and cool until barely warm to the touch, about 20 minutes.
Heat the oven to 350°F with a rack in the middle position. Butter a 9-by-13-inch pan and dust with flour. In a medium bowl, sift the flour, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking powder and salt, to evenly blend the dry ingredients.
In a stand mixer with the whisk attachment, beat the eggs until combined, about 15 seconds. Add the white sugar, increase to high and beat until well aerated and tripled in volume, about 5 minutes. Reduce to medium-low and slowly add the oil; continue to beat until homogeneous, about 15 seconds. With the mixer still running on medium-low, gradually add the cooled stout-molasses mixture, then beat until fully incorporated, about 30 seconds.
With the mixer running on low, add the dry ingredients, then increase to medium and mix until just incorporated, about 10 seconds; do not overmix. Using a silicone spatula, fold the batter, scraping the bottom and sides of the bowl, to ensure that no pockets of flour or egg remain. The batter will be thin.
Pour into the prepared pan and bake until a toothpick inserted at the center comes out clean, 45 to 55 minutes. Cool to room temperature in the pan on a wire rack.
Make the glaze:
In a medium bowl, whisk together the powdered sugar, stout and molasses. Pour onto the cake and spread in an even layer, then sprinkle with the crystallized ginger. Let the glaze dry for at least 30 minutes.
The recipe calls for a 9×13 pan baked at 350°F for about 45 to 55 minutes. I figured mini cupcakes would be about 15 minutes. They were done right about there.
The 9×9 pan proved more problematic.
I think my first issue was using a Pyrex pan instead of metal – metal conducts heat better. At 35 minutes I opened the oven and saw a beautifully risen cake. I moved the pan a bit and the center was liquid! Closed the door and it finally settled 15 minutes later – pretty much the same time as a 9×13. Alas, that little jiggle caused the cake to fall. It had a huge divot in the center. I flipped it over and the bottom worked fine for the glaze, but the edges were definitely overbaked – while the interior was moist as I had hoped.
It wasn’t the dessert I had hoped for, but it worked in its own imperfect way.
All-in-all, dinner was a definite success and I got to learn some fun stuff along the way…