Happy St. Patrick's Day!: Guinness-braised beef short rib poutine

Happy St. Patrick's Day! 

Some of you may recall my mission to create Guinness-braised short ribs, and what I created was, in fact, Guinness-braised long ribs.  This year, I pledged to rectify this situation.  My plan was simple:

1) Buy beef short ribs when my darling butcher put them on special.

2) Label said shortribs.

3) Freeze said labelled short ribs.

4) Easily retrieve actual short ribs from the freezer, thaw and make Guinness-braised short ribs.

I am happy to report that my mission was successful.

I bought; I labelled; I froze; I retrieved; I thawed; I made Guinness-braised short ribs.

Although they were really good with a side of mashed potatoes and steamed veggies, I didn't actually want Guinness-braised short ribs. 

I wanted Guinness-braised short rib poutine.  Tender meat in a rich gravy, over a bed of golden crispy-on-the-outside and fluffy-on-the-inside chips.  Sauteed mushrooms strewn overtop and soft bleu cheese lightly blessing the entire glorious plate.  

Yes.  That's what I wanted.  And that's exactly what I got: a warm dinner plate of happy.

Of course the main part of this recipe is the short rib recipe itself.  I went back to my Steak and Guinness stew recipe and made a few minor adjustments.  The poutine itself is a non-recipe recipe, and very much up to your individual palate:

Guinness-braised shortrib Poutine

Ingredients

Chunky chips

Guinness-braised short ribs, meat cut off the bone (recipe follows)

Gravy from the above short ribs

Sauteed mushrooms

Bleu Cheese (Cashel, if you want to continue the Irish theme)

Guinness-braised shortribs
Serves four

Ingredients
Marinade:
1 clove garlic, minced
1dspn/2tsp/10ml mustard powder
0.5tsp/2.5ml black pepper
375ml/1.5c Guinness (or any other brand of stout you prefer)

1kg/2lbs beef shortribs, cut into 4cm (1.5") pieces
olive oil
butter
400g/14oz mushrooms, sliced
0.75tsp/3.75ml salt
0.75tsp/3.75ml black pepper
2 medium onions, slivered nose-to-tail
2 fat cloves garlic, minced
2 celery ribs, finely diced
1 carrot, finely diced
625ml/2.5c diced tomatoes, fresh or tinned
125ml/0.5c Guinness (as above...or any other brand of stout you prefer)
375ml/1.5c beef broth
125ml/0.5c tomato paste
1tsp paprika (hot, preferably)
3 sprigs thyme
2 sprigs rosemary
2 bay leaves
40g/3Tbsp/45ml soft butter
25g/3Tbsp/45ml ap flour
1-2Tbsp/15-30ml Worcestershire sauce

Method
Mix marinade ingredients together in a zippy bag and add shortrib pieces. Let marinate overnight.

Remove the meat from the zippy bag, and pat dry.  Do not throw away the marinade.

Heat your brasier pan or dutch oven over a hob and slick the bottom with oil.  Sear the meat on all sides and set aside.

Add more oil, if necessary and add the tomato paste and fry until the sugars caramelise and the paste's colour deepens to a brick red.  Remove from pan.

Tip in the onions (with more oil, if necessary) and caramelise to a light golden colour. Add garlic to the pan and mix.  Once the garlic releases its perfume, stir in the celery and saute until translucent.

Preheat your oven to 190C/375F.

Add the seared meat, with its juices to the vegetables. Pour in the marinade along with the diced tomatoes, Guinness, and enough beef broth to cover. Stir in the tomato paste. Add the paprika, thyme, rosemary and bay leaves. Stir well. Let the mixture come up to a boil and keep it there for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Lid the pot and pop into the oven to braise for two hours.

While the meat is simmering, melt oil and butter together; add salt and pepper. Tip in mushrooms and sauté until lovely and soft. Remove the fungi from the pan and set aside.

Just before your timer dings, knead the butter and flour together into a beurre manié.

After the dinger dings, put the pot back onto a medium-low flame on the hob. Remove about a cup's worth of liquid and mix it with the beurre manié and pour back into the stew. Stir well. Add the mushrooms and Worcestershire sauce and simmer for 20 minutes before serving.

cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!

Happy St. Patrick's Day: Guinness-Braised Beef Ribs

Happy St. Patrick's Day to one and all. I hope you are able to spend the day with those who mean much to you.

This year's Guinness-inspired recipe was supposed to be Guinness-braised shortribs. I bought a couple of slabs of shortribs from my favourite butcher and put them in the freezer, until I had time to create this recipe. Sounds like a good idea, right? I'm thinking ahead, making sure my supper's star is ready to make his (her?) grand entrance.

One of my many great flaws is I rarely label my beef ribs. Everything else--sausages, bacon, chicken, lamb--they are all adequately labelled so I can easily pull out what I need.

Not beef ribs. In my addled brain, they are an identifiable shape in my freezer, so I think I'm pretty safe. Not this time.

This is not a beef shortrib bone. This is a beef...ummm...longrib bone.

Oh well.

I didn't realise my error until after I'd thawed the ribs. No worries. They were gorgeous and meaty and soon the original idea of braised shortribs morphed into braised beef ribs.

Knowing how well my contraption of a slow cooker works on pork ribs, I decided pull it off my shelf and put it to work on this recipe. A great move, especially as I set it to cook before I toddled off to bed the night before I wanted to serve this.

The beef was meltingly tender and the jus was nicely balanced: sweet from the tomato and the onion, but with those great deep chocolate-bitter notes from Guinness. It paired well with the cheddar'd mashed potatoes and roast asparagus, for a hearty cold-weather supper.

Guinness-Braised Beef Ribs
Serves 2-4

Ingredients

For the rub:
2Tbsp (30ml) brown sugar (dark, preferably)
1tsp (5ml) sweet paprika
1tsp (5ml) black pepper
1tsp (5ml) salt
0.5tsp (2.5ml) dry mustard
0.25tsp (1.25ml) garlic powder
0.25tsp (1.25ml) onion powder

For the braising liquid:
440ml (1.75c/1 can) Guinness
440ml (1.75c) passata/tomato puree
250ml (1c) beef broth

1.5tsp (7.5ml) Worcestershire Sauce
0.5tsp (2.5ml) dried thyme
0.5tsp (2.5ml) dried rosemary
2 dried bay leaves
0.5tsp (2.5ml) salt
0.5tsp (2.5ml) pepper

Flavourless oil, for frying
1kg (2lbs) beef ribs (meat still on the bone) or beef short ribs, cut into one-rib pieces
1 onion, sliced into thin lunettes
1-2 garlic cloves, minced


Method
Mix together the rub ingredients and pat onto meat and let sit for at least an hour, but preferably overnight in the fridge. Do not discard any leftover rub.

Mix the braising liquid's ingredients together and set aside.

Heat oil in a skillet until it shimmers. Sear the meat, in batches, on all sides. Set the browned meat on a plate and cover with tin foil. In the same skillet, cook the onions until translucent. Add the garlic and stir until it releases its fragrance.

Slow cooker method:
Prep the contraption, as per manufacturer's instructions. Tip the onion mixture into the slow cooker. Layer the seared meat over top. Stir in any remaining rub mixture into the braising liquid and pour over the meat. Set to low and cook for eight hours. The meat should be fork tender and almost fall off the bone.

Oven method:
Preheat the oven to 180C/350F.

Add the ingredients in an oven-safe lidded pot (such as a dutch oven), or in a deep baking dish as per the slow cooker instructions. Lid the pot or tightly cover the dish with tin foil. Braise, cooking in the oven for about 2.5 hours, or until the meat is fork-tender.

Serving suggestions:
If you are using beef ribs, cut the meat off the bone, and into bite-sized chunks.

Serve over plain, garlic or cheddar-mashed potatoes, buttered rice, buttered egg noodles or slices of hearty, crusty bread with plenty of the braising liquid. Accompany it with sautéed greens, asparagus or peas.

Notes:
- This dish tastes better the next day (and the next), although it is mighty fine served the day of.

-If you are serving it the next day (or later), allow the pot to cool to room temperature before popping into the fridge. Before reheating (in a lidded pot, in the oven at 350F/180C for about 30 or so minutes), remove as much of the solid that has floated to the top of the liquid.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Irish Cream Chocolate Sandwich Biscuits

I checked my BBM the other day to find a colleague changed her avatar. This in itself is not remarkable--pretty much everyone on BBM (except for me) seems to change their avatars regularly. Sometimes it's a wee self portrait or image of their child. Sometimes is a vacation snap or some other image that strikes their fancy.

What caught my eye was an image of an Oreo cookie, with a note wishing the popular sandwich cookie a happy 100th birthday.

Oreos are 100 years old?

Really?

Like so many people, I have a soft spot for Oreos. Some people are crunchers, others like to pry apart the sandwich and lick off the filling. I prefer mine dunked in milk until the biscuits practically melt away on my tongue.

But here's a confession. I really don't like the icing. It's too sweet and the texture is just...meh. I think it's because it's made with shortening (or so I've been told)--I've never really been fond of shortening. Give me lard or butter any day. Well...for icing, give me butter. I'm sure one can make an adequate icing from lard, but I'd rather not find out.

So when I saw the birthday wishes on my phone's screen, I thought 'why not bake my own Oreos?'

So when I saw the date, I thought 'Why not start my St. Patrick's Day foodishness a wee bit early?'

I've been rather busy as of late, so I haven't had the time to develop my own cookie dough for this recipe. After looking up a few recipes, I decided to use one based on a recipe from Gourmet Magazine. Flavouring the filling with Irish cream was pretty much a foregone conclusion (well, in my mind, it was).

The resulting chocolate sandwich cookies were delicious--nicely chocolatey with a soft Irish cream flavour. I'm sure you can change up the filling flavour with another liqueur...but for March, Irish cream just seems fitting.

Irish Cream Chocolate Sandwich Biscuits (Oreos)
adapted from Gourmet Magazine's Double Chocolate Sandwich Cookies
Yield 24

Ingredients

For the biscuits
200g (1c + 6 Tbsp/330ml) all purpose flour
40g (6Tbsp/90ml) cocoa powder
0.25tsp (1.25ml) baking powder
pinch salt
150g (0.66c/185ml) butter, softened
2Tbsp (30ml) milk or cream
0.75tsp (3.75ml) vanilla

for the filling
55g (0.25c/60ml) butter, softened
100g (0.75c/185ml) icing sugar
2dspn (20ml/4tsp) Irish cream liqueur (maybe a drop more, if you wish)

Method
For the biscuits

Sift together the flour, cocoa, baking powder and salt. Set aside

Cream together the butter and sugar. Beat in the milk and vanilla. Mix in the flour mixture in two additions, until the dough comes together. Form into a disc, wrap in cling and chill for about an hour.

Preheat the oven to 170C/350F. Line two cookie trays with parchment.

Roll the dough out between two pieces of wax or parchment paper, until it's about 3mm (1/8th") thick. Using a 3.75cm (1.5") round or fluted cutter, cut out the biscuits and place them on the prepared sheets, approximately 1.25cm (approx 0.5") apart. Gather the scraps, form into a disc and rechill before re-rolling.

Bake the biscuits for 10 minutes. Remove to a cooling rack and let fully cool before assembling the cookies.

For the filling:
Beat together the butter and the icing sugar until well mixed. Add in the Irish cream and beat well. Chill for at least an hour before using.

To assemble: smear about a half to three-quarter teaspoon of icing onto the flat side of a cooke. Press a corresponding cookie top to the icing. If the icing is soft, chill, uncovered, in the fridge for about an hour until the filling firms up.


cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Colcannon

I love it when I find an incredibly easy and tasty dish. Don't get me wrong: for the most part I still love spending a couple of hours in my kitchen, carefully dosing out ingredients, slowly folding and rubbing and waiting for volatile oils to release and scent the air. The truth is I don't always have that sort of time to devote to feeding myself (sad, isn't it?). I'm normally on the lookout for something quick, delicious and slightly different from the same-old same-old, but one that can be completed in those fleeting moments between work, meetings, going out and sleep. From time to time I find a solution so elegant in its simplicity, I wonder why I didn't try it before. Colcannon is one of those foods. A traditional Irish dish, it's simply sauteed greens stirred into mashed potatoes. As someone who loves sauteed kale, cabbage and other deep leafy greens almost as much as I love creamy (and garlicky) mashed potatoes, this is pretty much a happy foodish marriage to my tastebuds and gullet. What makes it better (I think) is that it's pretty much a non-recipe recipe. Don't believe me? Here's proof:

• Step one: Saute some kale (or green cabbage or other leafy green).


• Step two: Mash some potatoes (preferably with milk/cream and butter).


• Step three: Mix everything together.

Still don't believe me? Read the painstaingly recorded instructions which follow this bit of expository. To summarize:

• Step one: Saute some kale (or green cabbage other leafy green).


• Step two: Mash some potatoes (preferably with milk/cream and butter).


• Step three: Mix everything together.

See? Colcannon Serves 4-6 Ingredients 250g (0.5lb) Kale leaves, chopped (one bunch) 1 shallot, thinly slivered 4 spring onions, green parts only, finely chopped butter, for sauteing and mashing 500g (1lb) Yukon gold potatoes (or any mashable potato) 125ml (0.5c) milk 1 clove garlic, smashed salt pepper Method: Fry the shallots in butter until golden. Add the kale and spring onion greens and a couple of tablespoons of water to the pan. Give it a stir and lid the pan and let the greens steam lightly--the green will be vibrant, but the veg won't be limp. Remove the lid and let the water evaporate, stirring occasionally. Season with salt and pepper. Set aside

Parboil potatoes in salted water. When they are about half-cooked, drain off 2/3-3/4 of the cooking water and retun to the hob, put the lid on and steam over low heat until an inserted knife blade or fork easily slips in and out of a potato. When the potatoes are about ready, heat the milk with the smashed garlic. Mash the potatoes to your liking, using the garlic-infused milk and butter. Stir in the cooked greens. Balance flavours to taste. Notes:

• You can substiute cabbage (savoy or green) for the kale.


• If you have bacon fat on hand, use that to saute the greens.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Corned Beef

It all started off innocently enough.

Visions of home made corned beef and cabbage along with the inevitable sandwiches and hash danced in my head, in the same way that sugar plums make their obligatory appearances at Christmas.

Recipes abound online and it all looked simple: let a beef brisket soak up a spiced brine for a week or two, boil it up and then eat.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

Well...not really wrong. Just not as easy as I thought it would be.

When little, the only corned beef I knew was canned: salty, fatty, PeptoBismol coloured with a particular pre-digested texture similar to Spam. The cool part was you had to open the can with a key. Later I discovered corned beef sandwiches made of sliced cured beef. Wow. The difference was akin to contrasting 1970s polyester to pure silk.

A couple of years ago I bought a "make your own corned beef" brisket--a plastic-encased brisket, swimming in a slightly viscous, but spiced brine. Snip the end and boil. It was okay at best, chemical at worst.

This year I decided to corn (or cure) my own brisket for St. Patick's Day. I looked at a number of recipes and for the most part it seemed doable. I was starting early enough in the month that a corned beef supper shouldn't have been an issue.

It was all good, except for what turned out to be an elusive ingredient: saltpetre.

Unfortunately my favourite haunts' can't get it in. Many pharmacies either don't carry it or have had it on back order for months. (As an aside: I was more than concerned when I had to educate one pharmacist about it. Yes, I'm pulling my prescriptions from there).

Saltpetre has been used as a curing agent since the Middle Ages to keep a lovely slice of charcuterie from turning into a petri dish of nasty bacteria. It's also primarily responsible for corned beef's and salami's characteristic pink colour.

Saltpetre is used in compounding and has been used to alleviate various conditions.

Saltpetre is a nitrate. Nitrates are, from what I've read, safe to eat, but they become unsafe when they turn into nitrites which can spur cancer-causing chemicals in animals.

Saltpetre is also an ingredient in black powder and some fertilisers

Saltpetre is a legal substance in Canada and you do not need special permits to buy it (for curing meat--not sure about fertilisers and other uses).

My butcher and I had a chat about this. He told me it's difficult to find around here as are substitutes such as InstaCure No. 1 (aka Prague Powder No. 1), Pink (curing) Salt and other curing salts such as Tender Quick is just as scarce in these parts. Hrmm...

I was willing to make a brown corned beef, but I'm tenacious (read: stubborn). Up popped Canada411 and I reached for my phone. Several calls later I found a bottle, tucked in the back of a cupboard at an almost out of the way drug store. Even the pharmacist who sold it to me didn't realise he had a bottle as he's shooed off several people emptyhanded over the past few months.

It's pretty obvious. The kitchen deities were on my side. Appropriate offerings will be made, in thanks. Thank goodness they like chocolate.

I looked at a few recipes and came up with my own, scaled down to a 1kg (2lb) brisket (thank you, my darling butcher for cutting a reasonably-sized piece for me)--unlike other recipes I've seen, I wanted something that would feed four people...not 10.

It mostly went to plan. A couple of minor SNAFUs occured: the container it was in didn't let me weigh the meat down, so I turned the brisket over daily to ensure both sides were brined. I was a little worried when I took it out of its poaching liquid--the outside browned a bit, but as I sliced it, its pink interior made me smile. And...of course... I carved with the grain, as opposed to against it.

Again, the kitchen deities smiled upon me. The brisket was tender and the spice combination was absoultely delicious. I'm quite happy with this attempt and I'll do it again--I'll get a bigger container and play with the spicing a bit. I may even see how long it's safe to brine the meat without using saltpetre (apart from freezing the meat in the brine)--there's nothing wrong with brown corned beef. Until then, here's the recipe I used.


Corned beef
Serves 4-6
Adapted from recipes by Lobel, Alton Brown and about.com
Brining time: 2 weeks
Cooking time approximtely 3hrs

Ingredients
For the brine:
0.5tsp whole black peppercorn
0.5tsp mustard seed (black or yellow--I used black)
0.5tsp whole coriander seed
6 juniper berries
4 allspice berries
4 whole cloves
2 whole cardamom pods
2.5cm (1") cinnamon stick
120g (0.5c) kosher salt
65g (0.33c) brown sugar
1 bay leaf
0.5tsp chilli flakes
0.5tsp ground ginger
0.25tsp ground nutmeg
17g (1Tbsp) saltpetre
1.25L (5c) water
1kg (2lbs) beef brisket

To cook the brisket:
water
1 onion, quartered
1 carrot chopped into large chunks
1 celery rib, chopped into large chunks
2 garlic cloves, smashed

Method
To brine the beef:
Dry toast the peppercorns, mustard seed and coriander seed in a hot skillet until the mustard seeds begin to splutter and pop. Tip onto a cutting board and juniper, allspice, cloves and cinnamon and lightly crush with a rolling pin or pot bottom (or simply lightly crush the lot with a mortar and pestle).

Combine crushed spices with salt, sugar, bay leaf, chilli flakes, ginger, nutmeg, saltpetre and water. Bring to a boil and then turn down the heat to a simmer, stirring occasionally until the salt and sugar fully dissolve. Remove from heat cool and room temp. Pop into the fridge to cool thoroughly.

Pour into a container or a zippy bag that's big enough to hold all the brine and the brisket. Submerge the brisket in the brine. If the brisket floats, weigh it down with a saucer or quarterplate so the meat is completed submerged.

Refridgerate for 14 days, checking daily to ensure the meat is totally submerged.

To cook the brisket:
Remove the meat from the brine (keep the brine!) and rinse it thoroughly in several water changes.

Strain the brine, saving the pods, seeds and spices.

Place the brisket in a pot that's just large enough to fit it. Add the brine's spices, chopped carrots, celery, onion and garlic. Cover with about 5cm (2") water. Give it a stir. Bring the water to a boil and then turn the hob down and let the pot simmer for 2.5-3 hours.

To check for doneness, insert a sharp, thin-bladed knife or a carving knife into the thickest part of the meat. If it inserts easily, then the brisket is done.

Carefully remove the meat and let sit for about 15 minutes before carving. Serve thin slices, cutting across the grain.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Irish Cream Swirled Guinness Brownies

Undaunted with my less than stunning first attempt at a Guinness-inspired dessert of the year, my next attempt at a stout-soused sweet took me down a more familiar path.

What started as a quest for a simple Irish cream swirled brownie ended with a bit of a bang.

Not literally.

I think every recipe I found was replicated from our dear Peabody's. It looks like a great recipe and I encourage you to try it if you wish.

Then I got to thinking about the Car Bomb cupcakes which proliferated the web these past few years and decided to play around with that idea: what could be a cupcake could be a brownie.

For those unfamiliar, it's a boilermaker of sorts. Instead of a glass of beer fortified with a shot of rye (or whisky, tequila or vodka), it's Guinness with shots of Baileys Irish Cream and Irish Whisky.

The dozen or so Guinness brownie recipes I perused seemed to be the exact same one. Then I looked for actual recipes and they all seemed to be Guinness brownies with Irish Cream icing.

Deja-vu all over again.

So I played with a number of the brownie recipes I had on hand, including those above, ATK's chewy brownies and this one from epicurious.com and devised my own version, using Peabody's Irish cream infused cream cheese swirl.

I played. I baked. I tweeted.

Normally when I tweet my scullery goings on I get a couple of replies along the lines of "Yum!" or "Will there be a post?"

This time the reaction ranged from a chastising because of my apparent political incorrectness, to explanation requests (most people know of the incediary device, not as many know of the drink)--to recipe requests made slightly unintelligible by slurping dribble....followed by impatient proddings for the recipe.

To those insulted by the title: I apologise--the name's inspiration never really dawned on me.

To those who thought I sent away to the Acme Corporation: No--I am not an animated coyote with hate-on for equally animated road runners.

To those who want the recipe: Here it is.

The result is a chewy-fudgey chocolatey, Guinness-kissed brownie. The stout's flavour isn't pronounced, but it adds a bit of depth. I'll be honest and say the fresher (and I would argue temperature has something to do with it) the brownie, the more prounounced the Irish cream flavour (so yes, this is permission for you to eat the entire tray an hour or two after it's come out of the oven).


Irish Cream Swirled Guinness Brownies
Yield: 1 22cm x 22cm (8"x8") pan
Primarily adapted from recipes by about.com, America's Test Kitchen and epicurious.com

Ingredients
For the Irish Cream swirl
85g (3oz) cream cheese, softened
25g (2Tbsp) butter, softened
50g (0.25c) sugar
1 egg
1Tbsp all purpose flour
2Tbsp Irish cream such as Bailey's or Carolans
0.5tsp vanilla extract

For the Guinness Brownies
120ml (0.5c) Guinness or other brand of stout
30g (2 rounded Tbsp) cocoa
90g (3oz) bittersweet chocolate chips (or chopped into small pieces)
25g (2Tbsp) butter, melted
50ml (3Tbsp + 1tsp) flavourless oil
1 egg
1 egg yolk
100g (0.5c) sugar
100g (0.5c) brown sugar
100g (0.66c + 1Tbsp) all purpose flour
0.25tsp salt
1Tbsp Irish Whisky (optional)

Method
Preheat oven to 180C/350C. Create a foil sling for your 22cm x 22cm (8"x8") brownie pan, otherwise line it with parchment. Set aside.

For the Irish Cream swirl:
Beat together the butter and cream cheese. Add the sugar and cream until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg, Bailey's and vanilla and then mix in the flour. Set aside.

For the Guinness brownies:
Bring the stout to a simmer. Take it off the heat and whisk in the cocoa, then mix in the chocolate chips until melted. Stir in melted butter and oil.

Mix in the egg and yolk, then the two sugars and salt. Sift in the flour and give it a good turn until you have a smooth batter.

Dollop in the chocolate and Irish cream batters and swirl them together.

Bake for 30-40 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted mid-way between the edge and the centre point comes out with moist clingy crumbs.

Remove from the oven to cool thoroughly. Brush or spritz the top with Irish whisky, if you wish, before cutting.

Serve on its own, or warmed with vanilla or Irish cream ice cream.

Note:

- You can, if you wish, mix the chocolate (30g bittersweet and 60g semisweet) for a slightly sweeter brownie

cheers!
jasmine




I'm a quill for hire!

Guinness-braised apples with Dubliner crumble and Guinness caramel sauce

I suppose if I were to subtitle this post it would be: an oopsie made better.

A few weeks ago I began thinking about my March posts. I rarely put that much forethought into this blog (hate to break it to you), but to me March means St. Patrick's Day, which means finding a new Guinness recipe to try. Stephanie at Little Mushroom Catering mentioned a Guinness-braised apple appetiser she makes and shared her recipe. It was quick and more importantly...easy.

A number of things were flung my way between receiving Stephanie's note and yesterday--work, fun, a nasty tummy bug--so I didn't have a chance to play with what she gave me until yesterday.

I'd already decided to turn her nibblie idea into a dessert and settled for a good, old fashioned crumble with oats and cheese. Sounds great, right?

Well...I'll blame fatigue...or hunger...or the cats.

When I mixed the Guinness braising liquid, I mixed twice as much as I actually needed. Was I sensible and only use half, with hopes of using the other half for something else?

Nope.

I poured it all in.

I suppose I hoped that evaporation would take care of things and reduce it all down to a thick, lovely sauce.

I suppose evaporation woudl have taken care of things and reduce it all down to a thick, lovely sauce if I didn't strew the top with crumble...and then again with cheese.

Dubliner cheese melts in the heat, obliterating any little vents the liquid could use to make a sweet, steamy escape.

Hrrm...I tried the crumble--the apples were tender, sweet with a smoky rich flavour and the cheesy topping contrasted nicely against them. The only issue was the lake of slightly thickened, apple-y and Guinness-y sauce that treated the crumble like a baking-dish wide barge.

I had no problem serving the liquide as a sauce, but there seemed to be too much for pouring purposes. Another taste and that ever so-happy-making little lightbulb went off.

I ladeled out most of the liquid into a saucepan and boiled it down by half and stirred in a couple of spoons of butter. Voila: Guinness caramel. Seriously good stuff. Seriously good when poured over the apples and the crumble.

I debated remaking this dessert in the intended fashion, and only post the "correct" recipe...but then you wouldn't have enough for the caramel. I decided to post the original recipe and the fix to the oopsie, if anyone was interested. I'll probably revisit this at some point, but I'm quite pleased with this version.



Guinness Braised Apples with Dubliner crumble and Guinness Caramel

Ingredients
440ml (1 can) Guinness
180g (0.75c+2Tbsp) Brown Sugar
1Tbsp Soft butter
salt
9 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and sliced

For the Dubliner crumble topping
65g (0.33c) sugar
45g (0.33c) all purpose flour
3Tbsp rolled oats
3Tbsp butter
salt
100g (0.5c) grated Dubliner cheese

For the Caramel
Cooked Guinness braising liquid
2Tbsp butter

Method
Preheat oven to 180C/350F; butter a baking dish.

Whisk together Guinness, sugar and a pinch of salt. Set aside.

Tumble apple slices into the baking dish and pour the guinness mixture over top. Dot the top of the apples with little knobs of butter.

For the crumble:
Rub together the sugar, flour, oats, butter and a pinch of salt. Scatter over the apples and top with cheese.

Bake for 60 minutes or until the cheese melts and the top is golden.

Remove from the oven.

For the Caramel
Spoon off as much of the braising liquid as possible into a saucepan. Over medium high heat reduce the liquid by half, stirring occastionally. Stir butter into the thickenend liquide. Let cool slightly before serving.

To serve:
Spoon apples and some of the crumble into a bowl and pour some caramel over top. Serve with ice cream or pouring cream, if you wish.

Note:
To make life easier, but less caramelly, simply make half the quantity of braising liquid. It will slightly thicken while cooking, but you probably won't have enough to make the caramel.

If you cannot find Dubliner cheese, you can use cheddar (old, preferably), instead.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Irish Cream Cupcakes

If I had my camera with me the look would have been captured for all to see.

Not just any look, but the silent glare that simply says "Must you speak so loudly, human?"

No, I didn't get that look from someone wearing a green beer stained "Kiss me I'm Irish" T-shirt.

I got it from my cat.

On the floor, a few feet away from Hagia, two items told a story: to the left were cupcake wrappers, traces of Irish cream glaze left clinging to the paper; to the right, a puddle of cat barf.

Hmmm...I've been here before...sort of. Instead of being helped by My Dear Little Cardamummy down the distilled path of wobbliness, they apparently showed great initiative and helped themselves to discarded cupcake liners from the trash.

Well, they say drunks and other addicts will stop at nothing to get their fix.

Hagia has very...refined...tastes. Ice cream and tuna interest her. Olives, lemongrass and (more recently) bleu cheese keep her by my side. More recently baking--buttery cakes and croissants along with traces of raw flour--cause frantic miaos and pokes.

Being so close to St. Patrick's Day, I decided to create an Irish cream cupcake--a treat that could inspire choruses of "No dear, those are Mummy's special cupcakes." Given she had no interest in other alcohols I've sipped or cooked with (Guiness, wines, liqueurs and the rest) I was more than surprised at her begging for a bit of cake (which she did not get...at least not then). Maybe it's the cream...or perhaps the sugar.

With my luck, it's the whiskey.

These cakelettes are very easy to make. The finished cake has Irish cream's caramelly tones while keeping a buttery-dense crumb and really doesn't need any additional boosting. Yet me being me, I chose to thoroughly embrace the day and gaze the fairy cakes with a thinned Irish cream icing.

Since I'm not a fan of thick icings, the cakes were glazed while still warm--apart from thinning the icing, the flavours to seeped into the cakes and dribbled down the sides and left a thin layer to cool on top. You can, if you wish, cut away any rounded peaks from the cooled cakes and spoon on a thicker icing (vanilla or royal icing would work well) and top with whichever candies, sprinkles or dragees that come to hand.

Irish Cream Cupcakes
yield 12

110g (0.75c +4tsp) cake flour
1 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
125g (0.5c + 1Tbsp) unsalted butter, softened
100g (0.5c) sugar
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 tsp vanilla extract
60ml (0.25c) Irish cream liqueur

Preheat oven to 200C/400F. Line a 12-bowl cupcake tin with papers.

Sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

Cream together the butter and sugar until light, fluffy and almost pearlescent. Mix in the eggs one at at a time (or as best as you can), followed by the vanilla.

Incorporate half the flour into the batter, scrape down the sides and then continue with the rest of the flour. Pour in the Irish cream and mix until smooth.

Divide between the papered bowls and bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the cakelettes have risen, are golden and an inserted skewer comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack; decorate as desired.


Irish cream glaze
55g (0.25c) unsalted butter, very soft
30-60g (2-4Tbsp) icing sugar, sifted
1 Tbsp Irish cream liqueur
1 Tbsp cream (heavy or light) or milk (plus more, if necessary)

Beat together the butter and a couple of spoons of the sugar until smooth. With the beaters still going, dribble in the Irish cream and cream. Taste for sweetness--add more sugar or cream (or Irish cream) as necessary for the consistency you prefer.


cheers!
jasmine


I'm a quill for hire!

Potatoes and bacon and cheese oh my!: Panhaggerty

My bibliophilia is not a secret.

I love well chosen words, committed to paper, bound in paper or cloth.

I love the scent a recently-printed book releases as I flick through it.

I love the light texture of the paper fibres on my fingertips as turn each page.

Even though my collection numbers in the four-digits (and that's after I lost a few hundred because of a tragic-to-me flood two Christmases ago), like the men I who keep my company, I am rather choosey about the ones I bring home.

I peruse bookshelves, pick up a title and skim its pages. More often than not, it's reshelved. At most I'll spend 30 seconds with a book--like resumés, fundraising asks and online dating profiles, that's all the time an author has to wow me into adding their title to my basket.

The same goes for cookbooks. I read them in the same way as I do novels. Actually, it's more than that. Not only do these writers need to wow me with their food, but they also have to understand the music of language--of food language--before I'll consider adding them to my cookery book collection. They need to weave tales and transport me to their kitchens and times as well as support me on my journey there. Few pass the test.

Which is why when I found myself curled up in one of those wooden armchairs, in one of those ubiquitous big box bookstores, with a cookbook for more than 20 minutes, I knew I had a gem in my hands. When I realised I had a Cheshire Cat-like grin plastered to my face, I knew Colman Andrews' The Country Cooking of Ireland would come home with me.

I spent most of this weekend with the book--reading about Ireland's seafood and cheeses, potatoes and game. I've marked more recipes to try than I have in a very long time. It's not pretentious. It doesn't break down ingredients into molecules, nor does it try an elevate food to an esoteric level. It celebrates food. It celebrates the land and waters. It celebrates the Irish.

What more do I want from a cookery book?

I've marked a number of recipes to try. Some, because the ingredients sound wonderful (filet mignon and mushrooms in whiskey sauce). Others because I've heard of, but never tasted them (colcannon). And still others because their names just make me smile (parapetetic pudding, anyone?).

Panhaggery definitely falls into the last of these categories. And the first. And the second.

I took Colman Andrews' original recipe as a guide, adjusting the amounts of fat and potatoes, adding in some sage and garlic. It's easy satisfying and adaptable. I can see myself making this again, but with sweet potatoes and bleu cheese, or playing with charcuterie.

But really, more importantly, this dish made me smile.

Panhaggerty
adapted from The Country Cooking of Ireland by Colman Andrews

Serves 6-8 as a side dish

1 Tbsp butter, plus more if needed
100g (3.5 oz) streaky bacon, chopped (four rashers)
1 medium onion, slivered into lunettes
1 garlic clove, minced
black pepper
0.25-0.5 tsp dried sage
225-450g (0.5 lb-1lb) Yukon Gold potatoes (or any boiling potato), (see note)
175g (1.75c) grated cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 180C/375F.

In a 20cm (8") cast iron frypan fry the chopped bacon in the butter until crisp. Remove the bacon pieces to a kitchen toweling-lined bowl.

Pour off the fat, leaving about a tablespoon in the pan (do not discard fat). Add the onions and garlic. Stir until the onions wilt and begin to caramelise. Mix in a couple of pinches of pepper and the sage. Remove from the pan and mix with the crisped bacon.

Remove the pan from the heat and brush the bottom and sides with oil (adding more from the poured-off reserve, if needed).

With one third of the potatoes, shingle the slices over the bottom of the pan, leaving none of the metal exposed. Layer half the onion mixture overtop the onions and then layer a third of the cheese overtop the onions. Sprinkle with pepper.

Layer half the remaining potatoes on top, repeat as above with the rest of the onions and half the cheese and pepper. Top with remaining potatoes. Dribble the remaining fat over the potatoes, dotting with butter, if necessary.

Pop into the oven and bake for 40-50 minutes or until an inserted knife easily pierces each potato layer.

Turn on the broiler. Sprinkle with the last of the cheese and broil for 1-2 minutes or until the cheese has melted thoroughly.

Note: The quantity of potato depends upon how thinly you slice them and how large the potatoes are. Start with slicing half the potatoes (225g/0.5lb) and judge after the first layer if you need to slice any additional potatoes.

cheers!
jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Guinness onion soup with bleu cheese croutons

My liquor cubby betrays me. Friends' collections of wines and scotches are on show. Some have bar selections that allows them to live out their mixologist fantasies.

Me? I have a tiny little cubby behind a teak door. Gin, vodka and cognac always have their places; at least one can of Guinness is in the fridge. That's it. That's all. Quite utilitarian in a way. Everything else is incidental and only in when gifted or when needed.

People who know me well aren’t that surprised to know this. I don’t drink that much and when I do it’s usually one of the above, but it’s my taste for Guinness is what throws some people off. It’s an acquired taste, one which I took to immediately.

Friends once mocked my half pint glass of dark liquid, assuming it was a cola and not a “real” drink. I told them it wasn’t and they didn’t believe me. I offered them a sip as proof. Eyes wide, and barely able to swallow, they went back to their rum and Cokes (heavy on the cola).

I can only describe this tar-black stout as meaty, rich, and with flavours that remind me of roasted coffee beans or cocoa beans. And it’s smooth. Very, very smooth.

In the kitchen, my favourite stout gives a depth to chocolate cakes and steaky stews that usually appear near St. Patrick’s Day. This year’s stew’s been sopped up and the cakelettes have yet to appear, but this year I’ve added to my Guinnessy repertoire.

Onion soups topped with cheesy toasts are a weakness: poking the cheesy lake with my spoon, pushing the bread into the broth, the savoury-sweet melange of a hearty broth and sweet onions, made with wine or stout, it’s all good as far as I’m concerned.

I looked at a number of recipes when I came up with this one. The soup part itself is rather easy to muddle through without a recipe—simply caramelise some onions and add a mix of beef broth and Guinness, with some bay leaves and thyme—but versions with bleu cheese croutons held my attention. I cubed the bread and made a batch of croutons to be used and snacked on, but you can simply lightly pre-toast a slice, fit it to the mouth of your soup crock, sprinkle it with blue cheese, a bit of olive oil and a grinding of pepper and then pop it under the broiler for about a minute.


Bleu Cheese Croutons
Per serving

1 stale slice of bread, cubed
1 tsp bleu cheese
olive oil
black pepper

Preheat the broiler or set the oven to 200C/400F.

Stir the bleu cheese into an overflowing tablespoon of olive oil until smoothish. Add a good pinch or two of pepper. Toss the bread in the mixture.

Tumble the cubes onto a foil-lined tray and pour any remaining oil mixture over the bread.

If broiling: set under the broiler for about 60-90 seconds, or until golden.

If baking: bake for about 10-15 minutes or until golden.


Guinness Onion Soup
Yield: approx 1.3L (5c)

1kg (2lbs) medium cooking onions (approx 4-6 onions)
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
butter
olive oil
salt
pepper
330ml (1.3c) Guinness (or other stout)
750ml (3c) beef broth
2 bay leaves
0.75 tsp dry thyme
1 tsp brown sugar
1 Tbsp white wine vinegar

In a pot, put the onions, garlic, a pinch of salt and some pepper and enough cold oil and butter and cook until the onions are soft and caramelised.

While the onions are browning, reduce the Guinness to about 200ml (a bit more than 0.75c).

Add the reduced stout to the onions, along with the broth, thyme and bay leaves. Bring up to a boil and then let simmer, uncovered, for about 30 minutes. Add sugar and vinegar, stir well and balance flavours to taste.

Serve with bleu cheese or cheddar croutons.

cheers!
jasmine


I'm a quill for hire!

Comfort and Restoration: Steak and Guinness Stew

Okay...I know what some of you are thinking...why on Earth would the daughter of an excellent South Indian cook find Steak and Guinness Stew comforting? No, I have no relatives from the Emerald Isle lurking in the deep recesses of my lineage (yet about 15 St. Patrick's Days ago, I was declared Irish by an employer at his annual St. Patrick's Day sloshfest (really...lawyers throw the best parties)).

But comfort lies within habit and tradition.

Whether it's the first cone of the season at the local independent ice creamery, the unwavering Thankgiving menu, annual food fests (like the Elmira Maple Syrup Festival) or even those weeks when shop shelves are laidened with seasonal goodies like Cadbury Creme Eggs, there's a sense that most (if not all) is right with the world when certain edible things appear when they should. Yes, seasonal eating--spring asparagus, summer cherries or October cranberries also count.

Then again, there's an equal sense that all (if not most) is right with the world when certain edible things we'd rather never see again appear when they should (or shouldn't). For some it's Christmas fruitcake or perhaps endless piccalilli canning sessions...for me it's birthday foreboding fed by my mother's obsession with Black Forest gateaux (shudder).

For the past half-decade or perhaps longer, March seems incomplete without Steak and Guinness Stew. It's warming and hearty and leaves the house smelling absolutely heavenly. Yes, it started off as part of a St. Patrick's day thang--and it still is. But now the chocolate-mint cakes and hot chocolates are secondary to the day's foodish symbolism in my mind. It also helps that I absolutely adore Guinness...but that's neither here nor there...or maybe it is.

The first time I had Steak and Guinness pie in our local pub I fell in love with it. Or should I say...I fell in love with their original version. That was when they first openened and were a bit more...creative with their food and used...umm...better...ingredients. After a year or two economics or boredom or a new chef (or perhaps a combination of any of the aforementioned) found the recipe changed...the gravy was no longer as unctuous, the filling no longer as mushroomy, the steak no longer as steaky (beefy:yes; steaky: no). It was no longer the dish I fell in love with...so I decided to create my close-to-perfect love with very satisfying results (how many women have not so secretly wished they could engineer such a feat? Trust me, it's easier with food than it is with men).

Like all favourited recipes, there have been tweaks over the years--sirloin steak instead of stewing beef, moving most of the cooking time to the oven instead of leaving it on the hob. My veggie mix changes, depending what needs to be used up in my veggie drawer. Peas, carrots, parsnips all work well. This year I planned well in advance and popped the marinating cubed meat in the freezer, thawing it the night before I made the stew. Like all soups and stews, this is tastier a day or two after cooking.

Steak and Guiness Stew

Marinade:
1 fat clove garlic, minced
1Tbsp mustard powder
1tsp black pepper
1 440ml tin Guinness

1.25 kg steak, cubed
oil
butter
500g mushrooms, cut into chunks
1tsp salt
1tsp black pepper
4 medium globe onions, slivered nose-to-tail
2 fat cloves garlic, minced2 celery ribs, diced
750g mixed vegetables
1 798ml tin diced tomatoes (get the type without added herbs and spices)
1 440ml tin Guinness
500ml beef broth
1 156ml tin tomato paste
1tsp paprika (hot, preferably)
3 sprigs thyme
2 sprigs rosemary
2 bay leaves
4Tbsp soft butter
3Tbsp ap flour
3Tbsp Worcestershire sauce

Mix marinade ingredients together in a zippy bag and add steak cubes. Let marinate overnight at the very least, but I've frozen the meat in the marinade with wondrous results.

In your Dutch Oven, sear the cubes on all sides and set aside--depending upon how much fat there is in the meat, you may need to glug a little oil in the pan beforehand. Do not throw away the marinade.

Melt oil and butter together; add salt and pepper. Tip in mushrooms and sauté until lovely and soft. Remove the fungi from the pan and set aside.

Tip in the onions, adding more fat, if required. Caramelise to a light golden colour. Add garlic to the pan and mix. When the kitchen is perfumed with garlicky goodness, stir in the celery for a few minutes, before adding the mixed veg. Cook for 10 minutes.

Preheat your oven to 140C/275F.

Add the seared meat, with its juices to the vegetables. Pour in the marinade along with the diced tomatoes, Guinness, and enough beef broth to cover. Stir in the tomato paste. Add the papricka, thyme, rosemary and bay leaves. Stir well. Let the mixture come up to a boil and keep it there for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Lid the pot and pop it into the oven for 90 minutes.

Just before your timer dings, knead the butter and flour together.

After the dinger dings, put the pot back onto a medium-low flame on the hob. Remove about a cup's worth of liquid and mix it with the beurre manié (the kneaded butter and flour) and pour back into the stew. Stir well. Add the mushrooms and Worcestershire sauce and simmer for 20 minutes before serving.


slainte!
jasmine