White winter vegetable soup: potato, celeriac, cauliflower and roasted garlic

Ah yes, it’s that time of year where we resolve to swap the excesses of Christmas eating for regimes that are altogether more virtuous. Quite how many of us manage to stick to those resolutions for any length of time is another matter entirely (and far be it from me to judge – I have left a trail of failed resolutions in my wake over the years).

Still, I can do my little bit and, this year, it starts with this white winter vegetable soup.

Inspired by Danish butter cookies, made with Irish butter

I’m not exactly sure when it was that Danish butter cookies became a feature of Christmas in our house, but feature they did for several years, with their round, swirled and pretzel shapes and their always-buttery taste.

It seems to me that it must have coincided with the family’s Danish phase (yes, we actually had one of those), which started when a few unsuspecting Danes attended a folk festival in Donegal and resulted (among other things) in one of my brothers living in Copenhagen for several years and in assorted other family members (myself included) spending time in that city. At Christmas and at other times when folks were visiting from Denmark, it often meant that we ended up, not with butter cookies, but with a jar of pickled herring in the fridge and a bottle of Gammel Dansk in the cupboard.

Still, I imagine that our various Danish connections were as good a selling point as any when Danish butter cookies started making an appearance in the local supermarket. A tin or two of same would appear over Christmas, and be consumed, inevitably, with gallons of tea and far more gusto than their pickled herring kin.

And even now, though the Danish phase may be long past, butter cookies will always speak to me of Christmas (pickled herrings, on the other hand, not so much). When asked recently by Kerrygold to come up with a buttery Christmas recipe, there was only ever one thing I was going to make.

That famous quip attributed to the ill-fated Marie Antoinette, “qu’ils mangent de la brioche,” is most often translated to great dramatic effect as “let them eat cake.”

Brioche - is it bread or is it cake?

It seems that the Revenue Commissioners, in what they are calling a ‘clarification’ of the current VAT rules, have decided that brioche might as well be cake, because it will now attract VAT, as cakes do, at 13.5%, whereas previously it would have been classified along with bread, which escapes the VAT net. And it’s not just brioche: other items, such as croissants, bagels and even garlic bread are no longer sufficiently bread-like to qualify for zero VAT status. Really.

This came to my attention as I was leaving the hallowed halls of Trinity College, which had been the venue for the Bord Bia Irish Food & Drink Industry Awards last week. I happened upon Suzanne Campbell, who was discussing the issue and how it would hit small bakery businesses, with William Despard of the Bretzel Bakery (he who had made such an impression at the recent Savour Kilkenny Foodcamp). William was understandably exercised about the VAT hike.

In the midst of the discussion, the Minister for Agriculture, Food and the Marine, Simon Coveney, who had been speaking earlier at the event, came walking past. “Now that’s who you need to talk to,” said Suzanne. William wasted no time in letting his opinions be known, but the Minister, it seems, was already on the case. After a brief exchange, Minister Coveney passed on his way and you felt that the will, at least, was there to make this particular problem go away. Only time, of course, would tell.

It was a stark reminder of the challenges that food producers, especially those operating on a small scale, contend with all the time. The evening as a whole, however, had been one of positivity. Achievements in innovation, export performance, sustainability, domestic success, entrepreneurship and branding by companies, some large and some small, were all acknowledged on the night. It was a pleasure to see a list of winners which included Flahavan’s, who received the award for domestic success, Natasha’s Living Foods whose kale crunchies merited the innovation award, while Largo Foods, home of that über-Irish brand Tayto crisps, were acknowledged for their excellence in branding. All play a part in the good news story that is the Irish food and drink industry.

As the text on the back of the evening’s menu had indicated, Ireland will export almost €9 billion worth of food and drink to over 170 countries in 2011, which is an increase of 25% in what have been two of the most difficult years in our country’s finances. Austerity bedamned, this was something positive to tweet about:

It only occurred to me later that I might equally have revised that aforementioned French phrase of old and proclaimed – in a far more practical and positive sense than the original – “Let us eat Irish food.”

So why, exactly, do we buy cookbooks?

The simplistic answer, of course, is that we buy them for the recipes, but in reality, it’s almost never that simple.

We may buy a cookbook because we’ve seen the corresponding series on TV. We may have come to like or, even better, to trust the chef-author based on past cookbooks, through a blog or by way of an associated food business. We may want to try our hand at a particular cuisine or we may want to learn the basics. We may be dedicated followers of foodie fashion or we may just like the pictures, and there’s no doubt but that good photography and styling helps to sell.

Increasingly, photography in cookbooks is used, not only to show what the food should, in theory, look like but also to convey a representation of the lifestyle associated with eating that food. Whether we are subsequently disappointed when our dishes (or our lifestyle) do not turn out “like in the pictures” is another matter entirely. And while it can be helpful to see what a dish may look like at the end of our endeavours, some of my most trusted and well-used cookbooks (take a bow, Madhur Jaffrey) have little in the way of glossy pictures and are no less loved by me for that.

In the end, while the pictures are nice, it is the words that count. My favourite cookbooks are the ones that are worth reading not just for the recipes. Give me Elizabeth David’s English Bread and Yeast Cookery and an armchair and I will curl up happily. Nigella Lawson and Nigel Slater I like as much for their writing as for the style of their recipes. It’s important too, though, that the recipes work.

The Pieminister Cookbook

All of which brings me, somewhat circuitously, to the new Pieminister cookbook. Now, I have to admit that I wasn’t especially familiar with Pieminister, it being a UK-based pie-making enterprise without any permanent outlets here in Ireland. Still, when I was asked if I’d like a review copy of their new book, I took a look at the previews online, decided I liked the look of it (I mean, who doesn’t love pies, eh?), and said yes.

It’s a nicely produced book with (yes) plenty of attractive pictures, cute illustrations and seasonally arranged pie recipes, both savoury and sweet, as well as words to the wise on pie crusts, on tipples to match your pies and other pie lore. What made me smile was the wordplay at work in the recipes, from the fish pie named ‘Pietantic’ and the crumble of mulled wine and plum called ‘Plumble’ to the triangular ‘Chilli Pie-angles’. Puns aside, though, would the recipes work? The proof of the pudding, it seems, would be in the pie.

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Potato, Cheese and Mushroom Pie

Having looked through the Pieminister book, it was almost inevitable that I would choose to make their cheese and potato pie. A simple recipe, with lots of sliced potato, flavoursome cheese, mushrooms and cream all under a puff pastry hood. In other words, there was a lot to like, in both potato and pie terms, so I got to it.

Shockingly for me, though, I found that the amount of potato in the original recipe was too much relative to the rest of the ingredients. The mixture lacked moisture and turned out to be quite a dry pie, so in my adaptation below, I have reduced the quantity of potato by a third and added more liquid. And though the original recipe recommended floury potatoes, really, I would suggest that waxy potatoes, which are not as dry and which retain their shape and bite, are better for this.

I have also reduced the amount of pastry, as I only needed around half of the original quantity specified. I added thyme, rosemary and some extra parsley simply because I felt like it, used onion instead of shallots because that’s what I had to hand and used some dried porcini mushrooms because they were lying about in the cupboard. If you don’t have dried mushrooms, you can simply use some extra fresh mushrooms and substitute vegetable stock or water for the mushroom soaking liquid. For the cheese part, there are lots of great Irish cheeses to choose from and I went with a good vintage cheddar for this. I’ve also modified the steps a little to something that made a bit more sense to me having worked through the recipe – one which, truth be told, needed a bit of work to make it work but worked out in the end.

You’ll need:

• 250g puff pastry
• 25g dried porcini mushrooms
• 500ml water
• 1kg potatoes, preferably a waxy variety
• salt
• 50g butter, divided
• 400g mixed fresh mushrooms (field, oyster, chestnut), halved or quartered if large
• 1 medium onion, about 175g, thinly sliced
• 5 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 1 tsp fresh thyme leaves
• 1 tsp finely chopped rosemary needles
• 100ml cream
• 200g cheese (fontina, gruyère, taleggio or vintage cheddar), chopped into approx. 1cm cubes
• 4 tblsp chopped flat leaf parsley
• freshly ground black pepper to taste
• squeeze of lemon juice (optional)
• beaten egg for glazing (optional)

You’ll also need:

• A large frying pan, a large saucepan and an ovenproof dish (mine was about 28cm x 21cm x 5cm deep)

The Steps:

• If you’re using frozen puff pastry, remove it from the freezer in advance, so that it has enough time to defrost properly.
• Soak the porcini mushrooms in about 500ml water and set aside.
• Preheat your oven to 180C.
• Scrub the potatoes and, leaving them unpeeled, cut into slices about 0.5cm thick and rinse well under cold water.
• Bring a pan of about 1.5l water to the boil, add 2 tsp salt and the potato slices. Return to the boil, then simmer gently, covered, for 6-8 minutes or until just fork tender. Drain well and then cover with a tea-towel to absorb excess steam.
• Meanwhile, place a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add about half of the butter and, when melted, add the fresh mushrooms. Fry, without stirring too much, until they have released their juices and have started to brown, 10-12 minutes.
• Remove the mushrooms from the pan, add the other half of the butter and, when melted, add the sliced onion. Fry for around 7 or 8 minutes or until well softened.
• Add the chopped garlic, thyme and rosemary to the onions and stir and fry for another minute or so.
• Add the porcini mushrooms and their soaking liquid to the onions. Allow this to come to the boil and then simmer for about 5 minutes. Add the cream and simmer for a minute more.
• Remove from the heat and add the fried mushrooms, cheese and parsley along with black pepper to taste. Check for salt and add more if it needs it (but remember that the cheese will add some saltiness too). Add a squeeze or two of lemon juice to taste.
• Add the cheese, onion and mushroom mix to the cooked potato slices and stir to combine. Check seasoning again before pouring the contents into your ovenproof dish.
• Top the dish with a sheet of puff pastry and trim to the edges of the dish. Cut a small opening in the centre of the pastry to allow steam to escape. Brush the pastry with beaten egg if you like and place in the oven for around 25-30 minutes, until the pastry is nicely golden. Dish this up along with salads or perhaps as a side-dish to some pork.

The Variations:

• If you wanted to make this even more substantial, you could, say, add some cooked ham to the pie just before baking

The Results:

• Serves around 4 people

Simple as they come:
potatoes roasted with a bit of inner bay leaf

I was struck lately by the seemingly relentless drive to label the recipes found in many cookbooks and (their often accompanying) cookery programmes as “simple” and “fast” – from Nigel Slater’s Simple Suppers and Simple Cooking to Jamie Oliver’s 30 Minute Meals, and a whole host of others in between. They all, in one way or another, address the perception that, as a race, we 21st century consumers have less and less time to cook and less and less of the kitchen skills required but, ironically, more and more time to watch cookery on TV.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m all for simple and fast, and I have been known to watch my fair share of television cookery – but if, perhaps, there were more books and programmes that stepped back from recipes and concentrated on teaching skills and techniques, that might actually make things simpler and faster for us in the long run.

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Roast Potatoes With Bay Leaves

If simple’s what you want, then simple is what you’ll get with these spuds.

A couple of weeks back, I received a tweet from my good fried Jenni about “a tater thing” she’d made – namely a potato baked with bay leaf. It was, she declared, really, really good, an endorsement which placed it firmly on my must-make list. It also reminded me of a recipe in Eveleen Coyle’s Irish Potato Cookbook for roast potatoes with bay leaves which I’d been meaning to try. So finally, today, I did just that.

What you see below is Eveleen’s recipe, more or less, but the essence of it – and the technique that you need to remember – is that you cut a slit in a potato, insert a bay leaf and then roast or bake it, just as Jenni did. Simple, yes, and really, really good.

You’ll need:

• 800g baby potatoes (or any small, evenly-sized potatoes)
• salt, for parboiling the potatoes
• 2 tblsp olive oil (or substitute rapeseed oil)
• bay leaves, one for each potato
• coarse salt

You’ll also need:

• A roasting tin large enough to fit the potatoes in a single layer

The Steps:

• Preheat your oven to 200C
• Scrub the potatoes and leave them unpeeled.
• Bring a pot of about 1.5l water to the boil, add 2 tsp salt and the potatoes. Bring back to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer gently, covered, for about 3 minutes. Remove from the heat and allow them to dry off and cool slightly.
• Add your oil to the roasting tin and place in the oven to heat.
• Cut a slit in each potato and insert a bay leaf.
• Remove your tin from the oven and toss the potatoes with the hot oil. Sprinkle with coarse salt and return to the oven. Roast for 35-45 minutes, until tender and browned. These are lovely on their own with some salt and butter or serve alongside any kind of roast meat – Eveleen Coyle notes that they are particularly good with game.

The Variations:

• Instead of roasting the potatoes in oil, you could do like Jenni did, and bake them without oil but with a little butter added into the slit along with the bay leaf.

The Results:

• This serves 3-4 as a side-dish

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever done,” said David Puttnam.

We were talking about his having taken up residence in West Cork some 22 years ago. Then he glanced down the table towards his wife and smiled, “well, it’s the second best thing, the best was marrying Patsy…”

Either way, it was quite a statement from a man whose career has included film production credits for, among others, the Oscar-winning Chariots of Fire, and it said a lot about how locals and blow-ins alike regard this particularly captivating corner of the world.

View from Glebe Gardens, Baltimore, West Cork

I met David and Patsy in Skibbereen as part of a weekend visit to West Cork for a preview of West Cork Food, a new food tourism initiative of which the Puttnams are patrons. The aim is to provide visitors with an opportunity to meet and visit with artisan producers, and to watch them at work. It’s a proposition that’s bound to appeal to anyone with an interest in artisanal food and the production thereof, particularly given the stellar array of producers who live in, and operate from, this area.

A land of peninsulas and pasture, West Cork is where the revival of Irish farmhouse cheesemaking began in the late 70′s, and the region now boasts what is probably the highest concentration of artisan food producers in Ireland. It’s here that you’ll find, among many others, Durrus and Milleens cheese, Skeaghanore Duck, cheese and charcuterie from Gubbeen, butter, yoghurt and more from Glenilen Farm and smoked wild fish from Sally Barnes’ Woodcock Smokery.

Sally Barnes

It is the aforementioned Sally Barnes who is one of the driving forces behind the West Cork Food initiative, along with Stephen Sage of the West Cork Guide. Prior to my visit, I knew Sally only by reputation as one of the finest smokers of fish anywhere. Over the weekend, we visited her smokery, filleted own our fish, and watched the brining and smoking process. We also listened as Sally talked.

At Sally Barnes' Woodcock Smokery near Castletownshend

Like many West Corkonians, she’s a blow-in, originally from Scotland, but ended up here more than 30 years ago when she married a fisherman. Her fish smoking skills are self-taught – wanting to preserve the fish that her husband had caught and lacking a freezer, she started experimenting, first with a tea-chest and pan, and later with a kiln acquired in settlement of a debt. She later studied food production systems and oceanography through the Open University.

As is the case with many of the producers in the area, she’s both knowledgeable and passionate about her subject and you can’t help but become enthused yourself. Enabling visitors to have access to people like Sally is what West Cork Food is all about. Be warned, though – if you do visit West Cork, you might not want to leave. Staying, in fact, might be the best thing you’ve ever done.

One whiting, ready for filleting

Sally talks filleting and fish

Brining the fish: Sally's formula is simple, she adds salt to water until the fish float;
these whiting fillets were brined for about 15 minutes, others will be brined for shorter or longer periods;
salmon, on the other hand, she dry salts;

Into the kiln for 6 hours of cold-smoking, using beech smoke

Et voilà, a beautifully smoked fillet of whiting

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Potatoes And Lentils With Smoked White Fish

“Nothing goes with fish better than potatoes,” so commented Prue Leith while scrutinising a submission for the fish course of The Great British Menu. I don’t recall the dish in question, but the comment sprang to mind as I thought about what to do with my two beautiful fillets of beech-smoked whiting from Sally Barnes.

Truth be told, Sally’s beech-smoked whiting is such a fine piece of fish that, really, very little, if anything needs to be added in order to enjoy it. Her own suggestions were to either poach it in milk with potatoes and onions or simply acidulate it for about an hour before eating, perhaps along with some spring onions. I took the latter idea, allowed strips of the fish to marinate in lemon juice, while I made a kind of thick, earthy potato and lentil stew to be eaten alongside. It’s hearty, satisfying fare.

You’ll need:

• approx. 200g good quality smoked white fish (I used Sally Barnes’ smoked whiting)
• juice of one lemon
• 2-3 spring onions, finely sliced
• vegetable oil for frying
• 1 medium-sized onion, approx. 150g, sliced into fine half rings
• 300g tomatoes, skinned and finely chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 0.5 tsp fennel seeds, lightly crushed
• 0.5 tsp paprika
• 400g potato, peeled and cut into approx. 1cm cubes
• 200g puy lentils, rinsed
• 1 bay leaf
• 1.5 tsp salt
• approx. 750ml water or vegetable stock
• 200g kale, thick stalks removed and leaves finely chopped (or use swiss chard or spinach)
• freshly ground black pepper
• freshly chopped flat leaf parsley (optional)

You’ll also need:

• A large, heavy-based saucepan

The Steps:

• Slice the smoked fish into very fine, narrow strips, spread onto a plate or board, scatter with the spring onions, squeeze generously with lemon juice and set aside.
• Place a large saucepan over a medium heat. When hot, add vegetable oil to coat the pan. Add the sliced onions and stir and fry for about 5 minutes or until starting to soften.
• Add the tomatoes and garlic, fry for another 5-8 minutes or until the tomatoes have softened.
• Add the crushed fennel seeds and the paprika, stir briefly, then add the cubed potatoes, puy lentils, bay leaf, salt and water or stock. Bring to the boil, then cover and simmer for about 10 minutes.
• Add the chopped kale and simmer for about 30 minutes more or until the lentils and vegetables are tender. Add black pepper to taste and additional salt if it needs it.
• Remove from the heat and stir in about half of the smoked fish and spring onions. To serve, ladle into bowls and scatter with the remaining smoked fish and some chopped parsley if using.

The Variations:

• You could perhaps replace the smoked fish with some smoked bacon or leave both out and enjoy as a satisfying vegetarian main course on its own.

The Results:

• Serves 4-6 for lunch or dinner

So, what exactly does one do with a load of Turkish pepper?

I’ve been wondering about that for past few weeks, ever since my brother, who’d been travelling in the Turkish neck of the woods, brought me a collection of randomly chosen local spices, most of which turned out to be pepper of some kind. There were small, maroon-coloured chilli flakes called isot biber or urfa biber (and not one, but two packets thereof), bright red chilli flakes labelled pul kirmizi biber, and karabiber, which I took to be ground white pepper but which I now suspect is more black peppery.

Part of my newly-acquired Turkish pepper stash

Whatever the nature of the individual peppers, though, the key point was that I now had rather a large quantity of them languishing in my cupboards. They might have continued that way for some time if not for the spotting, last week, of a potato recipe in the Guardian from Yotam Ottolenghi which called for Turkish chilli flakes or pul biber. Described in the piece as a classic Lebanese and Syrian take on roast potatoes, the recipe for batata harra had my name, and (I hoped) my pepper, written all over it.

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Middle Eastern Roasted Potatoes

The recipe below is an adaptation of Yotam Ottolenghi’s aforementioned formula for batata harra. The original calls for sweet red peppers to be roasted with the potatoes, whilst I have used cherry tomatoes instead – mostly because they were growing right outside my kitchen window. Also, while the recipe features the classic Lebanese trinity of lemon, garlic and olive oil, I’ve included a few other Middle Eastern regulars, in the shape of mint and sesame seeds, along with a helping of spring onions.

The other thing to say, of course, is that you don’t have to use Turkish chilli flakes in this recipe – you can always use other chilli flakes which will bring their own particular heat and flavour. The pul kirmizi biber which I used was like a hot paprika, but Syrian aleppo pepper, for example, would be fruitier and milder. Remember also that chilli flakes will vary in strength, as do people’s tolerances for heat, so adjust according to your taste and the chilli you’re using.

You’ll need:

• 1kg waxy salad potatoes, such as Charlotte, peeled or not as you prefer and chopped into approx. 2cm chunks
• 2 tblsp olive oil
• 2 tblsp sunflower or peanut oil
• coarse salt
• freshly ground black pepper
• 500g cherry tomatoes, halved
• 6-8 cloves of garlic, crushed
• approx. 30g fresh coriander (leaves and stems), finely minced
• 1 tsp Turkish or other chilli flakes, or to taste
• 1 tsp sumac or more to taste (optional)
• zest of 1 lemon
• 1 tblsp lemon juice or to taste
• 4-6 spring onions, finely chopped
• 2 tblsp sesame seeds, toasted (optional)
• 1 tbslp chopped mint

You’ll also need:

• A large-ish roasting tray, big enough to accommodate the potato chunks in a single layer, or use 2 smaller trays; plus tin foil for lining

The Steps:

• Preheat your oven to 220C and line your roasting tray with foil
• Bring a saucepan of salted water to the boil (approx 1.5l water and 2 tsp salt). Add the potato chunks, return to the boil and boil gently for about 3 minutes. Drain well and then either let them sit, covered by a tea-towel, for about 5 minutes or place the saucepan over a low heat and stir the potatoes gently for a minute or so while they dry out.
• Toss the potatoes with the olive and sunflower oils and about 2 tsp coarse salt plus some black pepper.
• Spread the potatoes onto your roasting tray and place in the oven for about 10 minutes, then stir in the tomatoes and garlic, along with half of the coriander, the chilli flakes and the sumac (if using). Roast for another 20-30 minutes or until the potatoes are browned and tender.
• Tip the contents of the roasting tray into a large bowl and add the lemon zest, lemon juice, spring onions, toasted sesame seeds (if using) and more salt and pepper if need be. Serve warm or at room temperature on its own or perhaps with some fried fish, such as sea bass, and stir in the remaining coriander, as well as the mint just before serving.

The Variations:

• Of course you can give Ottolenghi’s original version a whirl, using red peppers in place of the cherry tomatoes.

The Results:

• Serves around 4 people as a warm salad or side dish.

It may surprise, or even shock you to learn that, in almost three years of writing this blog, and with its avowed affection for all things potato, that sweet potatoes have never been called for in any of the recipes published herein. Yep, that’s right, not once. Ever. Have a looksee and you’ll find that those other potatoes barely even warrant a mention.

It’s not that I don’t like sweet potatoes – quite the contrary – but, not being a common vegetable in these parts, they tend to be a bit of a rarity in my kitchen. The truth of the matter, frankly, is that I don’t think of them as potatoes at all. That, in turn, may have something to do with the fact that, botanically speaking, the two are not even closely related.

No, not the kind of potato I'm used to...

The sweet potato (Ipomoea batatas) hails from the Convolvulaceae family (now there’s a mouthful) and (if I may refer to it as such) the true potato (Solanum tuberosum) is a member of the family Solanaceae. When Columbus was doing his discovery of the Americas thing in 1492, he and his followers found the sweet potato cultivated as a staple throughout the Caribbean, where it was known as batatas. When the potato (which was known as papa in the Andes) was later brought across to Europe, their similar external appearance and underground nature caused the names of the two vegetables to become confused, and they have been joined in name, if not origin, ever since. It also has to be said that, related or not, they get along quite well on the dinner plate too.

I was reminded of that fact when I was perusing Catherine Fulvio’s new book, Catherine’s Family Kitchen. Included throughout the book (and possibly my favourite part of it) are her ’5 Ways With’ sections – suggestions for five quick and easy ways with things like soup, soda bread, pasta and mash. Unsurprisingly, most of the entries under mash are ones with which I was already familar – such as adding celeriac or roasted garlic, pesto or wasabi – but a mash of potato, sweet potato and lime was one I hadn’t tried, and so, in the interests of finally bringing the two potato worlds together, I thought it was about time that I should.

Hot off the presses: Catherine Fulvio's latest, with TV series to follow, starting September 9th

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Sweet Potato Mash

In Catherine’s book, her instructions are to simply to mix half and half potatoes and sweet potatoes, adding lime zest and juice, plus butter and cream. The recipe below adds little to that, other than to suggest specific quantities and to call for the addition of some cayenne pepper, which I think adds a nice extra dimension to the sweet and tangy whole.

Also, given that the dish combines white(-ish) potatoes, orange sweet potatoes and green lime zest, I didn’t miss the opportunity to give this a somewhat patriotic Irish presentation, by keeping aside some of the plain potato mash and lime zest so that they could be swirled in and sprinkled, respectively, for a bit of green, white and orange action.

To prepare the potatoes and sweet potatoes, you can boil or steam according to your preference – if you have a vegetable steamer that can accommodate multiple tiers, that’s probably the most convenient way to prepare both at the same time and using a single burner.

You’ll need:

• 400g potatoes, preferably a floury variety, boiled or steamed until fork tender
• 50g butter, melted
• 50-100ml milk (or cream if you prefer), warmed
• coarse salt
• freshly ground black pepper
• 400g sweet potatoes, boiled or steamed until fork tender
• zest of 1 lime
• juice of 1/2 lime or to taste
• cayenne pepper to taste (optional)

You’ll also need:

• A ricer, though not essential, is definitely your friend when it come to mashing potatoes

The Steps:

• Put the cooked and still warm potatoes through a potato ricer, if you have one, or mash with a potato masher or fork.
• Add the melted butter to the potatoes and mix to combine, followed by about 50ml of the warmed milk (or cream), adding more if you prefer a looser consistency. Season to taste with coarse salt and black pepper and, if you like, set aside 4-5 tblsp of the mash to swirl in later.
• Mash the sweet potatoes (again you can use a ricer if you have one) and add to the rest of the potatoes, mixing well.
• Add about half of the lime zest to the potatoes and add lime juice to taste plus more salt if you think it needs it, along with a sprinkling of cayenne pepper if using.
• To serve, swirl in the reserved (white) mash and sprinkle with the remaining lime zest. Serve with roasted poultry, pork or, for an alternative take on bangers and mash, have it with some sausages and perhaps a red onion gravy.

The Variations:

• I think you could probably substitute carrots for the sweet potatoes here, for something that’s even more Irish in nature.

The Results:

• Serves around 4 people as a side dish

Not that it’s far away or anything – it’s only just north of Dublin, after all – but I’ve rarely had any particular reason to go. Until last Saturday, that is, when the day was spent experiencing just some of what Ireland’s smallest county has to offer, food-wise.

Louth is not only home to Bellingham Blue and Glebe Brethan, two of our finest farmhouse cheeses, but it boasts the much-awarded Cooley Distillery, excellent Carlingford oysters and the surprise and delight that are the Eastern Seaboard Bar & Grill and the Brown Hound Bakery in Drogheda. Several reasons to visit the place, right there.

One Carlingford oyster, au naturel

First stop of the day with my fellow food-trippers, Aoife from I Can Has Cook and Joanna from Smörgåsblog, was the picturesque coastal village of Carlingford and its annual Oyster Festival. Though the festival oyster tent turned out to be a very small affair, it boasted the freshest of oysters, shucked for us by Kian Louet-Feisser of The Carlingford Oyster Company, who was joined by some young, but very able, assistants.

The freshest of oysters and the youngest of chefs

Right alongside were the folks from The Cooley Distillery, makers of some very fine Irish whiskeys, including the wonderful Connemara Peated Single Malt. We chatted with the founder, John Teeling, and of course had a few nips of whiskey (well, it would have been positively rude not to). Though we weren’t in the village for much more than two hours, we also managed to be interviewed for local radio, have lunch in PJ O’Hare’s and score some excellent raspberry jam from Daisy’s Pantry. Pretty good going, all in all.

Above: The Cooley whiskey collection
Below: Founder John Teeling inhales...

After that it was off to Drogheda, and a quick coffee-and-cake-stop at the lovely Trader’s café, before our rendezvous with a host of other bloggers – including Dinner du Jour, Gunternation, Caryna’s Cakes, Kuchennie, Gracie Bakes and Katz Miaow – for a tour of the newly opened Brown Hound Bakery, followed by dinner at the Eastern Seaboard Bar & Grill.

I’d heard a lot about the restaurant from Clare of An American in Ireland, who had organised the trip. Having spent a year living in Drogheda when she moved here from L.A., Eastern Seaboard, run by Jeni and Reuven Diaz, came as an unexpected and welcome find.

I think I'd go back to Eastern Seaboard for the bread alone

Positioned at the end of a small strip of shops in a Drogheda housing estate, it’s an unlikely location for top-quality dining. Yet that is exactly what you’ll get, and at reasonable prices too.

Plenty to delight the tastebuds, including crab cakes, salmon, rabbit and more at Eastern Seaboard.
The coffee jelly and ice cream dessert was positively intriguing.

The large, high-ceilinged and tastefully designed dining room, meanwhile, would not look remotely out of place in Paris or Manhattan, while the same can be said for The Brown Hound Bakery, which Jeni and Reuven have opened just down the way, alongside their take on the takeaway, Mo’s To Go.

With fresh oysters on the menu, not to mention Coney Island corn dogs, Mo's To Go is not your average Irish takeaway joint

Treats at the Brown Hound Bakery

I would actually go as far as to say that the bakery, with its large glassed displays of cakes and tarts, and cookies piled under glass domes, is not like any I’ve seen in Ireland. Many of the recipes come from New York-based baker Craig Thompson, owner of Shandaken Bake in the Catskills Mountains, who came out to Drogheda for three months to train the bakery staff. Each of us bloggers having been sent home with a goody box from the bakery, I can confirm that, just as with the restaurant next door, taste-wise, the Brown Hound does not disappoint. In fact it would not, I think, be extreme of me to make a special trip back just for their chocolate banana bread. That, truth be told, strikes me as a particularly good reason to visit.

Well, whaddya know, kitchen wishes really can come true. Where once there was a mixing bowl and a wooden spoon, there is now, in my kitchen, a shiny new stand mixer. It’s all thanks to some more than generous wand-waving by the Fairy Hobmother.

My new shiny

Er, the Fairy Who?

‘Tis well you might ask.

The Fairy Hobmother has been winging her way around cyberspace of late, granting wishes to bloggers on behalf of the folks at Appliances Online. A few weeks back, I left a comment for her regarding my mixerless state over on Smörgåsblog. Lo and behold, just a little while later, my wish was granted, and then some.

Better again, though, is that it could be you next. Leave a comment on this post describing your kitchen wish and she just might visit you too.

As for the wished-for mixer, it seemed only right and proper to put it straight to work.

Mixer job #1: potato tomato bread