Long Island Larder: Irish Cookery
Although the Irish are certainly not the predominant ethnic group in America, from the Yukon to the Pedernales Valley, wild celebrations of the birth of St. Patrick are planned.
The wearin' o' the green by partyers of every origin probably accounts for the largest display of that unpopular color from March to March every year. (Sorry, Celtic brothers, but green does the poorest in retail sales of just about everything except ferns.)
St. Paddy's Day has definitely become entrenched in American tradition and green derbies and shamrocks sprout in every merchant's window as soon as the leftover valentines are warehoused.
For some unaccountable reason, though no more unaccountable than the enthusiasm for the Irish saint on the East End of Long Island, Key West, Fla., where I spend the winter, is aflutter with green. I won't be surprised to see green eggs and ham on bar menus soon.
Key West was settled by British adventurers out of the Bahamas in 1822; Bonacker country much earlier - in the 1600s - by British settlers from Connecticut. I'm not quite sure how Montauk became so very Irish, unless the Gosmans did it all by themselves.
(If there are any newcomers around, the Gosmans are an Irish-American family who developed the now-giant Gosman's Dock restaurant and fishing station, and imported quite a few Irish workers to staff their business. You'll hear lots of Irish lilt out in Montauk.)
Corned beef and cabbage is the traditional dish of March 17, with as many disagreements on how to make it as there are Irish opinions on just about everything.
Although Ireland produces a significant amount of beef - one of the Republic's chief exports - this is a fairly modern development. No sensible Irish farmer would likely slaughter a good cow, with all its dairy potential, just for the short-lived pleasure of a few meals with fresh meat (even if you could eat meat in Lent, which you can't if you're a Catholic).
But brined and smoked meats have always been popular in Ireland - terrific hams, corned beef, and, of course, the famous Irish farmhouse bacon - and they could be kept without refrigeration.
When I passed a summer in Dublin years ago, writing and cooking, I noticed one oddity of Irish cookery - a slice of ham was always served with roast chicken. It was a delicious combination. Especially complementary to the two or three different kinds of potatoes served on the same plate!
Modern Irish restaurants, I'm assured, dish up plenty of fresh vegetables and salads, but I think I need to investigate this myself.
Irish Stew, My Way
I was not thrilled by traditional Irish stew, which is plain in the extreme: lamb, onions, potatoes, and water, with a bit of parsley for daring flavor. So, as is traditional in America, I've embellished the basic formula with my own tastes - garlic, for one thing, which I'm sure no authentic Irish stew ever flirted with.
Serves eight
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil (or duck fat)
3 lbs. lean, boned lamb, cut in 2-inch cubes
Flour mixed with salt and pepper
2 medium onions, chopped
3 large cloves garlic, minced
2 cups diced, peeled rutabagas
1 quart veal or chicken stock
4 medium carrots, cut in 2-inch lengths
6 Idaho or russet potatoes, peeled and quartered
Coarse salt and pepper to taste
3/4 cup fresh parsley leaves, minced
Pat the lamb fairly dry and put it by handfuls in a plastic bag containing the flour mixed with salt and pepper. Shake well to coat and put the piece in a colander. Continue until all lamb is floured and transferred to colander. Shake the colander to remove excess flour.
Heat the oil in a wide, heavy Dutch oven or similar pot until it is almost smoking. Add the lamb, a few pieces at a time, and brown it well. Return it to the colander set over a
bowl. In the same pot, saute the onions and garlic until limp, then add the rutabagas and stir well to coat with juices. Return meat to the pot and add the stock, stirring gently.
Cover and simmer until the lamb is almost tender, about one hour if cut from the leg, longer if cut from the shoulder. If the stock thickens too much, add a cup of boiling water - you want to wind up with a thickish stew, but not a thin, watery affair such as I've seen billed as "Irish Stew."
Add the carrots and simmer, covered, 10 minutes, then add the potatoes and simmer a further 20 minutes, covered. The potatoes should be just tender, not disintegrating. Season to taste with salt and freshly milled black pepper, stir in the parsley and serve in shallow soup plates.
This recipe should provide seconds for several people. If you fear needing more, you can always toss in a few more "praties."
Wheaten Scones
These go very well with the Irish stew, or with jam and butter for "yer tay." They're similar to Irish soda bread, for which there are recipes in every magazine with a cooking section, but quicker and easier to make.
If you want to double the recipe, either be certain you have two large cookie sheets or buy a roll of baking parchment, so you can lay out the second batch on that while the first batch is baking. Do not attempt to bake two batches in the same oven one above the other, as the scones need to be situated in the center for even baking.
Makes about 20 scones
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup unbleached white flour
1 Tbsp. wheat germ
3/4 tsp. coarse salt
3 tsp. baking powder
1/4 cup unsalted butter
3/4 cup buttermilk
Pinch of baking soda
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. and center the rack. Lightly grease the baking sheet. Sift the flours, baking powder, and salt together and stir in the wheat germ. Cut the butter in with two knives; then, with a fork, blend in the buttermilk with a pinch of soda.
Turn out onto a lightly floured counter or baking cloth and roll out lightly to about half an inch thick. Cut out rounds with a two-inch cutter or juice glass and place them, one inch apart, on the greased baking sheet. With sharp kitchen shears, clip
a shallow cross in the top of each scone.
Bake about 12 minutes. Serve hot. If making two batches, arrange the second one on baking parchment (ungreas ed)
and slide this onto the baking sheet after you have removed the first batch. If you need to reheat the scones, do it in a 300 F. oven, not a microwave, which makes them soggy.
Words About Corned Beef
The "flat cut" is leanest and a bit more costly than the thick end of the brisket (which is what corned beef is made of). The thick end is fattier and tastier. Neither one should be trimmed before it is simmered or it will be dry and stringy.
New Englanders prefer their corned beef "gray," which means cured only in salt with no nitrates. However, the nitrate does turn the beef an appetizing pink.
Whichever you choose, simmer the meat tender in barely trembling water, covered, before adding any cabbage or other vegetables you intend to eat (as opposed to "pot" vegetables, which are flavoring agents, to be discarded after cooking with the meat). Cooking big chunks of cabbage to a greasy gray is what gave this versatile vegetable a bad name in the first place.
You will undoubtedly see "low fat" or "low sodium" corned beef on the market, but I doubt very much that either is any good. Meat cannot be cured properly without an adequate amount of salt, so if you're on a salt-restricted diet, it's probably best to just braise a plain, not corned, brisket of beef, which you can salt as much or as little as you please.
As they say in Ireland, raise a jar, and slainte!