They say that everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. (Those of us who are also Irish the other 364 days of the year graciously allow that.) Up until the past decade, however, the foods of Ireland gave little cause for culinary rapture; so March 17 was all about the beverages the Irish are known for. Boiling up a pot of corned beef and cabbage may seem authentic, but it is a totally American fabrication.
The eat-local-and-organic movement has hit Ireland now, and some of its chefs stand toe-to-toe with the finest in Europe. Hopefully this heralds an end to all the jokes about over-cooked-everything; though to my mind that certainly wasn’t the worst of it.
I grew up in a family that worshiped at the altar of dulse. Not familiar with that word? It’s seaweed. Deep purple clumps of dried algae, native to the damp northern coasts of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Salty, briney, leathery seaweed that requires a fair amount of chewing to get it down. (And for some, I imagine keeping it down is also a consideration.)
Whenever any of my parents’ friends would smuggle in a little tin of dulse from “the old country,” my mother would swoon as though someone had given her a pound of Beluga caviar. Health aficionados now tout dulse for its high mineral content, but back then it was just bonafide contraband…plain and simple. A welcome snack for Irish kids who didn’t know any better.
When it comes to traditional Irish cuisine, soda bread ranks much higher on the popularity scale…for children and adults. This time of year bakeries and supermarkets often sell cellophane-wrapped loaves of dry, leaden, raisin-flecked bread at exorbitant prices; but it’s incredibly easy to make at home. (Just don’t expect to answer the phone while preparing it. Your hands will be a gooey mess.) Unlike temperamental yeast breads, a mere teaspoon of baking soda—when combined with acidic buttermilk—causes it to rise. (Don’t try to use that baking soda that has been sitting in the back of the refrigerator for two years. Trust me, it’s time to shell out 50 cents for a new box.) The only other secret to success is to use moist, freshly dried California raisins from the farmers’ market. The Irish should only have it so good!
While at the market, you may as well buy spuds and cabbage for the classic American-style St. Patrick’s Day dinner. You’ll also find freshly dug beets, early strawberries, and plenty o’ green: artichokes, asparagus, baby lettuces, fava beans, and peas of all persuasions.
Here is the soda bread—or “scon”, as she called it—recipe my mother had already committed to memory when she emigrated to the U.S. in 1928. Or at least it’s a close facsimile. It turns out my sisters and I all have slightly different versions, each hand-written by my mother. Through the years she would tweak it here and there…an egg to make it lighter; a little extra sugar to appease my father’s sweet tooth…but basically this is it. And I think it’s about as good as it gets. Some parts of Ireland favor the addition of caraway seeds or whole wheat flour, but this comes directly from a girl from Donegal, ”where they eat potatoes, skins and all.”
Maggie Doherty’s Irish Soda Bread
4 cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups California raisins (I use 1 cup each of golden and dark raisins)
2 cups buttermilk
1 egg, lightly beaten
- Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Generously grease a cast-iron skillet or a heavy 9-inch round cake pan. In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt; whisk gently to blend. Stir in the raisins. Make a well in the center of the flour mixture. Pour in the buttermilk and egg and mix until a stiff dough forms. (Use a wooden spoon if you must, but the most efficient way to mix this extremely soft, sticky dough is with floured hands. Alternatively, the dough can be mixed in a heavy-duty mixer fitted with the dough hook.)
- Scrape the dough from the bowl and mound it into the prepared pan, forming a round loaf. Lightly moisten your hands with water to smooth the top. Using a serrated knife dipped in flour, score the top with a large X, about 1/2-inch deep. (This not only ensures even baking; it also scares away the devil.) Bake until the loaf is golden brown with a firm crust, and the bottom sounds hollow when tapped with a knife, about 1 hour. Remove from the pan and cool on a wire rack at least 30 minutes before cutting into slices. Serve warm, at room temperature, or toasted. Makes 1 (9-inch) round loaf. Store airtight at room temperature.
The Danville Certified Farmers’ Market, located at Railroad and Prospect, is open every Saturday, rain or shine, from 9 a.m. until 1 p.m. For specific crop information call the Pacific Coast Farmers’ Market Association at 1-800-949-FARM or visit their web site at www.pcfma.com.