Cut a breast of veal in small pieces about two inches square season it with pepper and salt then fry it till it is half ready then put it into two quarts of green peas two or three onions half a pound of bacon cut as small as dice a bunch of sweet herbs cover it with small broth or boiling water let it still till it is tender and serve it up.
—from an 18th century Irish cookbook manuscript
The Irish excel at stews, and not just Irish stew. There are many variations that feature chunks of meat and tender vegetables in rich gravies. Some are highly regional, such as Coddle, a stew that is so closely identified with Dublin it’s barely been heard of, much less eaten, in other parts of Ireland. Others, such as Beef in Guinness, are more modern but no less beloved and have developed over the years to take advantage of our obvious local ingredients. That’s where seafood chowders come in: they are a big favorite, turning up all across the country, and usually each bowl is absolutely loaded with lots of varieties of seafood, chunks of fish, mussels, and prawns. And that’s why it belongs in stews, not soups.
On a Saturday night in Dublin, I’m told, back in the day, a pot of coddle could be found in kitchens all over town. It was made with sausages and rashers, onions and potatoes, and not much else. Carrots may show up in more modern variations, but they were emphatically not part of the original dish. The point of coddle was to stew it up earlier in the day, let it cool, and then reheat it after an evening in the pub, at the pictures, or at a dance—whatever the entertainment was that evening. Even now, I find coddle is a dish that tastes best reheated, which makes the gravy thick. It’s hearty and filling all on its own, and the only traditional accompaniment might be one more glass of beer. Don’t try to make this with American bacon, which is too fatty. If you don’t have Irish rashers, try substituting Canadian bacon, which is also made from the back, not belly, of the pig. You can use the sausage meat on p. 34, but ideally you’ll have sausages in casings so they can stew without breaking up. Using chicken stock and thyme leaves is a modern touch—real old-fashioned coddle is cooked in water and flavored with salt—but it’s a mild-mannered improvement on an already good dish.
Makes 6 servings
2 large yellow onions, sliced into rings
6 large russet potatoes, peeled and sliced ¼-inch thick
2 pounds Irish sausages, in casings
1 pound rashers, preferably not smoked, rind discarded, rashers cut into 2-inch pieces
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
Salt and pepper
6 cups chicken stock
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 In a large stewpot, layer the onions, potatoes, sausages, and rasher pieces, sprinkling a little salt and pepper and a bit of the thyme over the potatoes in each layer.
2 Pour the chicken stock over everything. If you need a little more liquid to cover, add a cup or two of water. Bring to a boil, cover loosely, and simmer for 30 to 40 minutes, until the potatoes are tender.
3 Taste and adjust seasoning. Sprinkle with parsley and eat at once, or ideally, let cool and reheat in the evening or the next day, when the stew will have mellowed and thickened.
My first job ever, at age 12, was in a pub in Ashbourne, County Meath, as what used to be called “pot boy” (the same job Pegeen Mike hires Christy, the “Playboy,” to do in J.M. Synge’s play “Playboy of the Western World”). Nowadays that same job is usually called “lounge boy,” and it entails wiping tables and (until pretty recently) emptying ashtrays—not exactly glamorous then or now. But I loved it, and I was fascinated by an elderly couple who used to come in every day and drink two bottles of Guinness apiece, in total silence, without taking off their heavy coats, no matter what the weather. It was long believed in Ireland that bottled Guinness was particularly rich in iron, and it was drunk by pregnant women, invalids, and the elderly as a sort of cure-all.
Whether it has any health benefits (and modern medical science rather thinks not), bottled Guinness makes a warm and filling beef stew with a hint of a bitter undertone in the gravy. A touch of brown sugar tempers the stout, prevents the stew from tasting too heavy, and cuts through the richness of the buttery mashed potatoes. It’s a perfect dish for a cold winter night. This makes a huge batch, partly because it reheats so beautifully; it’s even better the second day.
Makes 8 to 10 servings
5 pounds stew beef, such as chuck, cut into 1½-inch cubes
½ cup all-purpose flour
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
5 tablespoons suet or vegetable oil
3 to 4 large yellow onions, coarsely chopped
1 pound white mushrooms, halved
2 12-ounce bottles Guinness Extra Stout
2 cups beef stock
1 teaspoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
Generous pinch of nutmeg
4 bay leaves
1 In a large bowl, toss the meat, flour, and some salt and pepper, until the meat is coated.
2 Heat the suet or oil in a large Dutch oven or stewpot over high heat. When the fat is very hot, add the meat all at once and fry, stirring occasionally, until well browned, about 10 minutes. Remove the browned meat from the pot and set aside on a platter.
3 Add the onions to the same pot and cook over medium heat until they just become translucent, 3 to 4 minutes. Return the beef to the pot and add the mushrooms, stout, stock, sugar, thyme, nutmeg, and bay leaves. Add salt and pepper, using a light hand with the salt at this stage.
4 Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, cover, and simmer gently for 2 hours. Stir occasionally.
Note: Bottled Is Best
Don’t make this stew with canned pub draught Guinness. That type is great for drinking, but it’s too bubbly for cooking. Use the bottled stuff, the old-fashioned way. It’s a different brew altogether, the way Guinness used to taste, with a different alcohol content, different flavor, and none of those foamy bubbles you don’t need in stew.
My father hails from Finglas, on the north side of Dublin, and he always made his Irish stew with dumplings in it. Even more interesting, the dumplings were dotted with fresh parsley and raisins. Sound like it’s not authentic? My Dublin-born and -bred grandmother made it that way herself. Perhaps it’s a subset of Irish stew recipes, but it’s my family’s subset and I love it. If the idea of dumplings goes against your sense of Irish stew, use the excellent recipe below and merely leave out the dumplings.
The important thing is to use good lean lamb chops. And always and only lamb—if it’s not, it’s not Irish stew. Some say keeping the bones in while cooking adds flavor; it’s entirely up to you. My dad used beef suet in his dumplings but I tend to have butter around more than suet. I also commit the heresy of browning the meat lightly first. It tastes better to modern palates, and a lot of Irish people do it that way, but if you want truly authentic Irish stew, skip browning, layer un-floured meat with the vegetables, and use mutton stock (um, you know, if you have any lying around) or water instead of chicken stock.
Makes 6 to 8 servings
3 tablespoons flour
Salt and pepper
3 pounds large meaty lamb chops, cut into large pieces
3 tablespoons cooking oil
6 to 8 large russet potatoes, peeled and sliced
2 large yellow onions, sliced
2 large carrots, sliced
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves, chopped
2 quarts (8 cups) chicken stock or water
For the dumplings:
1½ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup butter (or half butter, half vegetable shortening)
2 tablespoons chopped, fresh parsley
2 tablespoons raisins (or golden raisins)
cup cold water
1 In a large bowl, combine the flour with ½ teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper. Toss the lamb pieces in this mixture to coat.
2 In a large heavy stewpot or Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium-high heat and brown the meat very lightly, just to let it take a little color. Set the meat aside in the bowl that held the flour and turn off the heat.
3 In the bottom of the stewpot, lay down a layer of potatoes and a few pieces of carrot and onion. Sprinkle with a bit of salt and pepper and a little of the thyme, top with a good layer of the lightly browned lamb, and continue, layering the lamb and vegetables with salt and pepper and thyme leaves.
4 Carefully pour the chicken stock down the inside edge of the pot to keep from rearranging your careful layers. Bring the liquid to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat, cover the pot tightly, and simmer gently for half an hour. Remove the lid, skim off any gray scum that may have formed, and cover again. Cook for another 1½ hours, until the vegetables and meat are fork-tender.
5 Combine the dry ingredients for the dumplings and cut in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in the parsley and raisins, then add the water and stir to make a stiff dough.
6 Be sure the liquid in the stewpot is bubbling over medium heat. (If your stew looks dry—if no bubbling gravy is visible—you may not have a tight-fitting lid on your pot. Add another cup or two of water or stock and bring it to a boil before adding the dumplings.) Drop the dumplings all over the surface of the stew by the heaping tablespoon. Cover with the lid and do not lift it for 25 minutes. It’s crucial to trap that steam and cook the dough. If you peek, the dumplings will not rise
Just as oysters in America were once common food to fill up poor people, Ireland also has a long history with oysters being everyday rather than the luxury items they are now. So rather than the expensive dish this stew has become, adding oysters was once a way to stretch the more valuable beef. In fact, to make it more authentic, you could easily double the amount of oysters. It’s a thick stew without a lot of sauce, which makes it easier to identify the oysters in the mix!
Makes 6 servings
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
Salt and pepper
1½ pounds stew beef or chuck, cut in 1½-inch pieces
2 tablespoons cooking oil
1 large yellow onion, diced
1 cup sliced white button mushrooms
1 12-ounce bottle Guinness Extra Stout
2 cups beef (or chicken) stock
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
12 fresh shucked oysters, juices reserved (or 1 6-ounce can fresh oysters in their liquid)
1 Put the flour in a shallow dish and toss it with ½ teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper. Toss the beef in the flour to coat.
2 In a large, heavy stewpot or Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium-high heat and sear the beef, in batches if necessary, until nicely browned on all sides. Remove the beef and set it aside in the bowl that held the flour.
3 In the oil left in the pan, cook the onions and mushrooms over medium-high heat until softened and lightly browned, 7 to 8 minutes. Return the beef to the pan and add the Guinness, stock, and Worcestershire sauce.
4 Cover the pot tightly and simmer gently over medium heat for 1 ½ to 2 hours, until the beef is really tender and the gravy has thickened. At the end of cooking, add the oysters and their liquid and simmer for a couple of minutes, just to heat through and cook the oysters.
Barley is a key Irish grain: it’s what we make Guinness from, and dark-roasted barley is what gives Guinness its color. If you’ve ever been in Dublin and smelled that sort of smoky, half-burnt aroma on the air, it’s the wind blowing down the Liffey from the Guinness factory, carrying the scent of roasting barley across the city. An American guy I knew in Dublin once asked me, early in his tenure there, why he smelled so many fires all the time. When I sniffed the air and explained it was merely the Guinness factory, his face brightened and he said, “I kept wondering why that smell was making me hungry!” We say in Ireland about a hearty drink such as Guinness, “There’s eating and drinking in it,” but that also applies to this satisfying stew, containing a bottle of Guinness and thickened with barley.
Makes 4 to 6 servings
2 tablespoons cooking oil
1½ pounds stew beef or chuck, cut into 1½-inch pieces
Salt and pepper
1 large yellow onion, diced
2 large russet potatoes, peeled and diced
1 large carrot, diced
1 cup barley
6 cups beef or chicken stock
1 12-ounce bottle Guinness Extra Stout
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon light brown sugar
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves, chopped
2 bay leaves
1 Heat the oil in a large, heavy stewpot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Season the beef with salt and pepper, and sear, in batches if necessary, until the beef is nicely browned. Remove it from the pan to a dish and set aside.
2 In the oil and juices remaining in the pan, cook the onions until browned and tender, about 7 to 8 minutes, stirring often. Add all the remaining ingredients and stir to combine.
3 Bring the stew to a boil, then reduce heat, cover and simmer for 1½ to 2 hours until the meat, vegetables, and barley are very tender. Stir it once or twice during the cooking time, and if the stew seems dry, add another cup or two of water. At the end of cooking, taste and adjust the seasoning. With all that barley, you may need a little more salt.
This stew was my dad’s masterpiece, both a standard suppertime fallback and a showstopping crowd-pleaser for guests. Is it a traditional, historic Irish dish? Well, I can guarantee no peasant was brewing it up in a thatched cottage, no matter how close it sat to the coastline. But it is real Irish food in that my extended family across Ireland and America enthusiastically cooks and eats it with great gusto and frequency. And we do eat a lot of monkfish in Ireland—it’s a succulent and meaty fish I think is greatly undervalued in the US. This is a wonderful way to get to know it and to show it off. You can make it with other fish, and you can leave out the beans or add more of them. I’ve even left out the fish and made it vegetarian for some Hindu friends visiting Ireland, and they smacked their lips over every bite. The decidedly French addition of pastis underlines the anise flavor of the fennel, another vegetable we eat a lot of in Ireland. The French would probably just eat this in a dish, maybe with some crusty bread, but my dad always served it in deep soup plates on top of a mound of extra-creamy mashed potatoes.
Makes 6 servings
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 large yellow onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 fennel bulbs, trimmed and cut into wedges
2 16-ounce cans whole peeled tomatoes, with their juices
1 cup dry white wine
2 sprigs rosemary
3 tablespoons pastis
1 15-ounce can cooked white beans, drained and rinsed
1 ½ pounds monkfish fillets, cut into 2-inch pieces
¼ cup crème fraiche (or heavy cream)
Salt and pepper
1 Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy stewpot over medium heat and add the onions and garlic. Cook, stirring until the onions are softened but not browned, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the fennel and cook for 2 to 3 minutes more, until slightly softened.
2 Add the tomatoes and their juices, breaking the tomatoes up against the sides of the pan. Add the wine and rosemary, and bring the stew to a boil. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer for about 20 minutes, until the fennel is tender.
3 Add the pastis and white beans, and heat through. With the stew bubbling, gently lay the monkfish in the pot, pushing it into the mixture so it’s coated in the hot liquid. Cover the pan and cook for another 5 to 7 minutes, until the fish is opaque.
4 Stir in the crème fraiche or cream to lighten the mixture to a pale orange. Season with salt and pepper. Serve soon, so your fish doesn’t get tough sitting in the hot liquid.
We’re not interested in the authentically thin chowders of New England’s heritage. At any pub in Ireland worth its lunchtime credentials, you can get a bowl of thick and decadently creamy chowder, and the best ones are loaded with a range of seafood. Mussels are always present, and usually chunks of whitefish and perhaps some salmon, and sometimes a few shrimp and maybe clams. It’s a glorious meal, made all the better with the usual accompaniment of brown bread and butter. The creamy, buttery taste that underpins the flavor of the fresh seafood? That’s cream. And butter.
Makes 6 to 8 servings
½ cup (1 stick) butter
1 large leek, white and part of the green, very thinly sliced and washed
1 medium yellow onion, diced small
1 small carrot, peeled and grated
cup all-purpose flour
2 cups bottled clam juice
4 cups whole milk
1 cup dry white wine
1 cup light cream
8 ounces fish (such as salmon or whitefish or a mix of the two), cut in 1-inch pieces
8 ounces cooked mussels, without shells
8 ounces small cooked clams, without shells
4 ounces small shrimp, without shells (cooked or raw)
Salt and pepper
1 In a large stew or soup pot over medium heat, melt the butter and stir in the leeks, onion, and grated carrot. Cover the pan and cook the vegetables until completely softened but not at all browned, about 10 to 12 minutes, stirring once or twice.
2 Sprinkle the flour over the vegetables and stir to combine. Slowly stir in the clam juice or fish stock, adding it gradually to avoid lumps. Blend in the milk, wine, and cream, stirring continually to avoid lumps. Bring to a simmer and cook, stirring frequently for 10 to 15 minutes, until the soup is thickened and the vegetables are tender.
3 Add the seafood and heat through to cook any pieces that need it. Serve hot, with a sprinkle of parsley.
