It is time once again to turn our thoughts to green beer, soggy corned beef and cabbage, and dense soda bread. Not because we must, but because this is what generally represents the best (sic) of Irish cuisine.
The best? Really?
I can do almost no research and tell you this is absolutely not the case. Living for a short time in the late eighties, in the Irish section of the Bronx, I was introduced to much more than that every spring. While Midtown had its window displays of soupy corned beef, the Irish bakeries in my neighborhood were filled with feathery breads, and the small restaurants beckoned with smells I can still remember as enthralling.
We need to get away from the stereotypes in a lot of the relationships we have, food being foremost in my mind. I’m a firm believer in food as mediation and healing, so we all must peer a little closer into a world we may not understand and not settle for the norm.
I’ve written numerous columns about St. Patrick’s Day, and the history of everything green. Let me remind you that potatoes were not always part of the Irish landscape, they didn’t hit the isle until well after Columbus sailed back to Spain. In fact, potatoes were an ornamental plant that eventually was required by law to cultivate. They were meant to feed the peasants when things got lean, and things were lean often in that part of the world. In a certain sense they were deliverer and destroyer, and the culinary relationship with the potato has always been fraught with a certain unease.
It’s not an exaggeration to say the the potato was probably responsible for at least two separate occasions of population growth in Ireland. Not to say that it caused the population to grow but that it provided food for a growing population. In the span of about 150 years, from the 1660s through the mid-1800s the Irish population jumped from a little over a half million to upwards of nine million setting up one of the greatest collisions of humans and nature triggered by a fungus called phytophthora infestans.
The Irish Potato Famine of 1845 kills over a million people, devastates the Irish economy and sends many more to America. Once there, the Irish settle in the same areas, much like the other immigrants before them. They plant potatoes again, free of the fungus, and subsist on much the same diet that was available to them in Ireland. As they assimilate, parts of their culture that are attractive to mainstream America are adopted, or co-opted and used to signify the Irish brand.
While the festival of St. Patrick has been in existence since the 17th century, the idea of Irish food on that day took a little longer to establish. Green beer, shamrocks and leprechauns are all part of the hype now, complete with branded items and sales, but the constant has always been food, it is after all a festival.
Colcannon
The potato is a tuber of ever-expanding versatility. Commonly mistaken for a root vegetable, it is actually the stem of the plant, and if left alone will actually bear inedible fruit. We of course eat the stem, and enjoy it cooked in many different ways. One of my favorite ways, around this time of year is colcannon, a dish that mashes the potato with butter, salt and pepper as a foundation for kale or cabbage. Sometimes scallions are added to give the dish more zip and then the variations take off from there.
If colcannon is a side dish, then the corned beef and cabbage relegates potatoes to the bottom. Peeled and cooked with the cabbage as part of a wet stew, it provides filler and not much else in the St Patrick’s Day Feast. It can be more, as in the case of a wonderful strata of thinly sliced corned beef, potato, braised cabbage and onion that is baked, covered and served as a drier version of the celebrated stew. Adding herbs and some onion and garlic wouldn’t upset the tradition too much, but avoid the cheese, it doesn’t need it.
Crisps, or chips is a word used to describe our beloved French fry, a French or Belgian invention gone global that we will discuss at another time. Fried in lard, they are dangerously good, and served with lamb of any kind is an alternate way to celebrate the festival.
Commonly served with just salt and pepper, they take very kindly to malt vinegar, and cut thickly they develop a crusty outside while retaining lots of soft, rich meatiness on the inside. Skip the formal dinner and shave some cooked leg of lamb onto toasted soda bread spread with butter and serve with some crisps and malt vinegar.
To me the day is not complete without some wild salmon of the fresh, not the cured kind. I like green vegetables with my salmon, and I avoid the grill and stick to the pan. I also go several ways with my potatoes; small and boiled. I choose a smaller potato, leave the peel on, and blanch (starting in cold water) until they are tender. The idea here is to finish the potatoes with the salmon in the pan. When the potatoes are properly blanched, air cool them, dry them off and pop them in the same pan as your roasting salmon. When both are done, add in some shaved shallot, fresh dill and tarragon, and whole butter with a bit of champagne vinegar.
The resulting “sauce” will flavor not only the potatoes but the salmon as well. Cracked black pepper and sea salt finish the dish nicely for a quick and tasty St. Patrick’s Day Feast!
John Foster is an executive chef who heads the culinary program at Sullivan University’s Lexington campus. A New York native, Foster has been active in the Lexington culinary scene and a promoter of local and seasonal foods for more than 20 years. The French Culinary Institute-trained chef has been the executive chef of his former restaurant, Harvest, and now his Chevy Chase eatery, The Sage Rabbit.
To read more from Chef John Foster, including his recipes, click here.
