Get Your Green On! MARKET FRESH I PEGGY DOHERTY FALLON This is the month of My People, when St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated by just about everyone. Cauldrons of corned beef and cabbage will be bubbling away in solidarity with the Irish, even though the origins of that dish are about as American as apple pie. My parents were already adults when they emigrated to the United States, and so maintained many of their “old country” traditions throughout their 60+ years in California. They occasionally adopted the celebratory corned beef and cabbage dinner—probably due to peer pressure from well-meaning friends who couldn’t believe Irish people would eat anything else on March 17. But in their hearts they knew that nothing but lamb stew was good enough to honor St. Patrick Himself. My version is a bit fancier than what I ate as a child, but I’ve tried to keep the basic spirit. (My father would be horrified by boneless meat in the stew and cream cheese in the mashed potatoes, though my mother probably would have appreciated the convenience.) So with apologies to my parents, here is my take on a darn good dinner for St. Patrick’s Day—or any other day, for that matter. A L I V E 28 E A S T B A Y m a r c h 2 0 1 6 This stew is rich with Irish stout, dotted with root vegetables, and enlivened by fresh mint. I serve it over a mound of creamy mashed potatoes streaked with ribbons of kale—a make-ahead take on Irish colcannon. Then I top it all off with a sprinkling of Irish Gremolata. What is Irish Gremolata, you ask? Oh, it’s just a little something I made up. Seriously. You may recognize gremolata is the classic garnish for ossobucco. Although there areas many variations as there are Italian cooks, it is usually made from finely chopped garlic, lemon zest, and parsley. I have played off this idea, inspired by the flavors of spring…and the colors of the Irish flag! One final word: Don’t confuse baby carrots with those dry, stubby things sold in plastic bags at the supermarket. There is nothing infantile about the latter; as they are actually overgrown carrots that have been mechanically whittled into those ubiquitous fingershapes. Real baby carrots from the farmers’ market are just that— sweet and tender and cute as can be. And don’t worry about peeling them, as the outer “skin” is barely developed. Sláinte!
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