March seems to have something for everyone; pessimists cite the Ides of March, optimists stretch to claim even a small amount of Irish luck. (He-Who-Must-Be-Fed claims his Welsh is close enough, and he champions leeks, the national flower-vegetable of Wales).
I can't claim a thread of Irish blood, but I love the spirit and character of the people. While they have some superstitions about the fairies playing nasty pranks on uncooperative farmers, I love their many superstitions about good luck. I like luck and court it.
The Irish court luck, an undertaking involves not only optimism, but also making the most of what you have, and this makes me think of Irish food. You'll be hearing lots about Irish Soda Bread, the yeast-free bread and about Corned Beef and Cabbage these days. Actually, corned beef is more popular in America now than in Ireland, partially I think because we love the Irish. And the cabbage!
I love cabbage. It's hard to grow in our garden because of white flies, but happily, even with the high price of food now, cabbage prices seems reasonable. Cooks whose families will eat boiled dinner love the dish because it is so easy. Put the cabbage, potatoes (small, red unpeeled or peeled potatoes) and carrots into a pot and simmer. When tender, add these to the corned beef that has been in a slow-cooker all day.
I got mail recently about how our mothers and grandmothers cooked. Some of us recall a very ugly hambone appearing and disappearing under the vegetables. I recall that greenish bone in my mother's dish, and I say, "No, thank you!" I do serve a good slice of warm ham if I am not using the traditional corned (brined) beef.
But the thing is, making a perfect corned beef and cabbage is still easy, as long as the cook keeps an eye on the pot. First, pare the vegetables in a careful way and in a way that they cook evenly. Thus, pared carrots should be whole or in long chunks, depending on their size. Classic corned beef recipes include onions, and their size determines whether they should be sliced or used whole. Professional chefs say the vegetables should be a little "toothsome" and also arranged prettily on the plate -- keep the carrots parallel, and so on.
This makes me smile because the first thing I do after filling my plate of corned beef and the required veggies is to mash all the vegetables together with a good deal of butter (or olive oil spread) and salt and pepper. The other method, invented by picky eaters in their childhood, is to spread the vegetables apart and enjoy a solitary potato chunk and hide a carrot under the beef fat. But I am a mash lover.
Recently, I was courting a head cold and not Irish luck, and I plopped half a head of cabbage, four carrots and two peeled and chunked potatoes into a saucepan of water.
Feeling poorly, I wanted something more in the pot, but not meat. I spied plain old navy beans in a can, and dumped the beans and milky juices into the pot, too. By gosh, was that a good dish! It tasted wonderful (again, mashed with butter). The lowly beans elevated it with a slight sweetness. And, although it might be heresy to say so near St. Pat's Day, the mixture reminded me of a French country dish, a cassoulet, perhaps.
But if you add just a little leftover corned beef ... heaven! You've got an Irish cottage supper from some traditional vegetables, a little corned beef and a can of beans. And, you've got it with ease and in a hurry. I never did get that head cold.
We will be having corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick's Day. I'll eat the cabbage and HWMBF will have braised leeks and get out his "How to Speak Welsh" book. But we'll both be wearing green.
Colcannon Stuffed Brussels Sprouts
1/2 lb. red potatoes
6 Brussels sprouts
1 T. unsalted butter
1/2 t. salt, or to taste
Black pepper to taste
3 slices bacon, cooked crisp and crumbles
Peel potatoes, cook until just tender. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Cut 4 cup-shaped leaves from the stems of the brussels sprouts. Slice the remaining sprouts very, very thin.
When tender, remove the potatoes to a dish with a slotted spoon, reserve cooking water in pot. Mash or whip the potatoes with the butter, salt and pepper until smooth. Bring cooking water to a boil. Blanch reserved cupped leaves for only 5-10 seconds; remove them to a bowl of cold water. Repeat the process, blanching the thinly sliced sprouts about 30 seconds. Mix or beat the shredded sprouts into the potato mash. Arrange leaf cups on a baking dish. Pipe or spoon the mash into the reserved outer cupped leaves. Sprinkle the tops with the bacon. Place in the oven for 3 minutes or until the sprouts and Colcannon mash are heated through. Makes 24 pieces.
--Adapted from a 12-year-old Gourmet magazine.
Sally Ketchum is a northern Michigan food journalist and home cook. She recently won the poetry prize at the San Francisco Writer's Conference. "Food was in the poem," Ketchum says, "blackberries and thimbleberries." She also had two pieces, one fiction and one memoir, published in "Building Bridges," the conference's 2008 anthology. Ketchum can be reached at ketchum1985@gmail.com.
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