For as long as I can remember I have had a crush on caraway. Maybe it’s because growing up there was always a loaf of Rye lying around and as I recall it was also often sprinkled into various suppertime dishes. The distinct anise-y flavour is delicious and always brings back fond memories of home. In researching this post, I discovered that caraway is a member of the Apiaceae plant family, which also includes fennel, anise, cumin, licorice-root (Ligusticum), dill, and coriander (cilantro).  All flavours I fervently love.

When this classic seed cake recipe kept turning up in many of the old Irish cookbooks that I have been collecting, I instantly put it on my must-make list. I simply could not wait to sink my teeth into a slice and see how caraway would fare in a sweet cake.  And lo and behold, it is the perfect balance of sweet and savoury, which makes it remarkably delicious.

Caraway seed cake is a variation of one of the most popular cakes made in Ireland, the Madeira. Similar to our American pound cake, but lighter and flakier-as not a full pound of flour, butter and eggs are used; it is moist and sweet in all the right ways. Madeira is considered a sponge cake and is the base of many traditional Irish cakes, including the traditional “Birthday Cake” which is a Madeira made with citrus peel, stem ginger and sultanas. I made this time-honoured cake for my father-in-law’s birthday in August and he was absolutely over the moon.

Other variations on the Madeira are cherry, sultana, rice (using rice flour), chocolate, sultana, Excelsior (coconut), Athassal (tri-coloured: almond/chocolate/vanilla), Jam sandwich (layered with raspberry jam), Ginger, Genoa (fruit peel with sliced almonds on top), poppy seed and, of course the classic Christmas cake.

According to Darina Allen, Madeira cake was originally made to be nibbled on by the ladies as they sipped their Madeira or port wine. This nibbling has been going here on since the 18^th or 19^th century and it certainly doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere anytime soon. Give this recipe a try and have it on hand when friends call over for a cuppa and some chit- chat on a crisp Autumn afternoon.

As with any recipe, using the best ingredients, organic or free-range and local as much as possible will create the most flavourful result. Of course, we use our own raw milk and eggs from the family farm for any baking or cooking here at home, but if you don’t live on a farm you can easily find these products at your local farmer’s market, cooperative or in most supermarkets. Please support your local farmers.

Caraway Seed Cake

(from Darina Allen’s, “Forgotten Skills of Cooking”)

Serves about 8

175g (6 oz) soft butter

175g (6 oz) caster (granulated) sugar

3 organic eggs

½ teaspoon pure vanilla extract

225g (8 oz) plain white flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

about 1 tablespoon milk or water

Round (springform) cake tin 18 cm (7 in) wide 7.5cm (3 in) deep

Preheat oven to 180 C/350 F

Line base of pan with greaseproof paper.

Cream butter in a mixing bowl with a wooden spoon, add sugar and whisk until light and fluffy. This will give you a smoother cake than just dumping the sugar in with the butter at the beginning. Whisk the eggs and vanilla extract together and gradually add to the creamed butter and sugar. Whisk well. If preferred the eggs can be whisked into the mixture one at a time. Fold in the flour, adding the baking powder mixed in with the last addition of the flour. Mix in one tablespoon of fresh caraway seeds. Add a little milk or water if needed to make a dropping consistency. Fill into prepared cake tin.

Bake for 50-60 minutes, remove from over and let cool in the tin.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photo by Imen McDonnell. Assisted by Master Geoffrey McDonnell

Tags: Caraway Seed Cake, darina allen, food, foodie, Forgotten Skills of Cooking, Imen McDonnell, ireland, Irish, irish farmer

No doubt you’ve heard about the quintessential Full Irish Breakfast. In fact, I previously wrote a blog post detailing out the various delicious elements of this famous breakfast platter which you can read here. While the Full Irish is magnificent and reknowned, I couldn’t help but want to share what I like to call our “Demi Irish Breakfast” which is basically what we routinely eat for the weekday breakfast here on the farm as do many other Irish families around the country. Sure, my husband can fry up a mean full Irish on a Sunday morning for us-always a treat-but we also love the simplicity of a boiled egg in cup with a slice of toast and a pot of jam on the side.

I remember my mother-in-law offering this one morning when I was visiting before moving to Ireland. I just thought it was so special and sweet. Of course, we don’t use eggcups at home and hers were dainty stainless steel cups which had gotten a lot of use over the years and had a little patina to them. In the photo you will see one of her egg spoons. It’s a combination of a tiny butter knife and a spoon, perfect for cutting the egg across and spooning out the egg. You’d have a hard time finding those in shops anymore, though they are the perfect design.

I love this breakfast because I am an egg-white only girl and I can scoop out the yolk (hand it over to hubs) and eat the rest. It’s fun to cut the toast into strips or “soldiers” as they are called here for the children to dip into the yolk of a soft boiled egg. We tend to have full slices with bitter orange marmalade or raspberry preserves, but many families I know serve the sweet little “soldiers” with their eggs and love the dippity dipping.

Why not try a charming little Demi Irish Breakfast this weekend?

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photo by Imen McDonnell

Tags: egg cup, food, foodie, full irish breakfast, ireland, marmalade, married a farmer, raspberry jam

It’s Sunday

A lazy + dazy Sunday

In the Irish Countryside

And soon we shall sleep

Hope you are enjoying

a lovely

lazy

dazy

Sunday

too.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

photo courtesy of Anthropologie

Boxty on the griddle

Boxty in the Pan

If you can’t make Boxty

You’ll never get a man

-Traditional Irish Rhyme

Boxty, occasionally spelled “boxdy”, is basically a potato cake, eaten mostly in the north of Ireland, especially in counties Cavan, Fermanagh, Derry and Tyrone. Boxty vies with champ and colcannon as Ireland’s best-known potato dish. It may have originated in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, when potato harvests began to fail, as a way of using poor quality potatoes which were useless for boiling. The potato pulp was shaped into cakes and baked on heated flagstone or a griddle.

I find the vast amount of Irish potato creations and descriptive words that go along with them absolutely delightful. I once actually considered doing a documentary called “Práta” which is the Irish (Gaelic) translation of the word potato. The idea washed over me as I sat at a wedding listening to all of my table mates once again carrying on about the texture of our freshly delivered steamy-hot potatoes. Never in my life had I spoken or overheard potatoes discussed in such great detail or at such length. This “práta-talk” is truly a unique Irish endowment. So, here’s the inside scoop: terms such as floury, soapy, fluffy can definitely be chalked up to being “favourable” potato textures, whereas watery, hairy and waxy are no good to you at all. If you are planning a trip to Ireland see if you can tell the difference!

Back to the Boxty. Definitely not for the weight watchers, but a special treat indeed. There are many different variations of this fried potato bliss throughout the world. In America and Eastern Europe, you will find “potato pancakes” which would be made with an egg and possible minced onion or garlic. Crunchy potato “latkes” are traditional in Jewish populations throughout the world. In Switzerland and Germany, the “Rosti” made with the Rosti potato is a commonly served dish. The Swedes have an amazing “Raggmunk”, a thin potato pancake served with Lingonberry jam. I have to admit, I love them all.

Give Boxty a try on a cool autumn evening…I find them lovely with a bit of crème fraiche and/or stewed apple. I used this recipe and made individual cakes instead of one large cake cut into farls.

Pan Boxty

(from Granny Toye of Clones, Co Monaghan)

Serves 4

6 medium potatoes

a handful of white flour

salt

butter

fresh herbs

Peel the potatoes. Line a bowl with a cloth. Grate potatoes into it then squeeze out the liquid into the bowl and put dry grated potato in another bowl. Let the liquid sit for 10 minutes until the starch settles. Drain off the water and leave the starch on the bottom of the bowl. Add grated potato and a handful of white flour and some salt.

Melt a nice bit of butter or oil on a heavy iron pan and pour in the potato mixture. It should be ¾ to 1 inch thick. Cook on medium heat. Let it brown nicely on one side before flipping, about 30 minutes depending on the heat. It’s much better to cook more slowly rather than too fast. It should be crisp and golden on the outside. Cut boxty into 4 farls and serve.

Granny Toye says that pan boxty may be eaten hot or cold and may be reheated.

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

Photo by Imen McDonnell. Assisted by Master Geoffrey McDonnell

Recipe from “Irish Traditional Cooking” by Darina Allen

Tags: boxty, darina allen, farm, farmer, ireland, Irish, latke, potato, potato pancake, prata, rosti, traditional cooking

Soup makes me a happy girl. I write this as I sit outside on our patio with the sun shining high in the sky. It is a gorgeous day, but there is a change in the air and a new tint to the light. Autumn is arriving in all of its glory and all I can think about is all the fabulous soups I will be preparing during the next few months. Now, before you start thinking, “she must be pure mad”, hear me out. Soup is good for the soul. And, Irish soup in particular makes for good measure.

There is a wildly popular book series in America entitled “Chicken Soup for the Soul”. They are books filled with heartwarming, inspirational personal stories submitted by people from around the world. When the author was deciding on the title for the first book, he kept thinking about how his grandmother’s chicken soup always made him feel good and he remembered how she told him it could cure anything. He wanted his books to have the same healing powers as that soup, but not for the body—for the soul.

This same “soup for the soul” theory made it’s way into a conversation over dinner with a group of Irish girlfriends in a Dublin restaurant one evening. It had been lashing rain for about three weeks straight and I had enough of it. I asked the girls, “How do you do it? Have you ever thought of moving away because of the horrendous weather?” The response was a resounding, NO. Then, one girl in particular told me that she actually loves the rain and cold. Seriously, she used the word LOVE with extreme emphasis. I could not believe my ears. She went on to say that the rain is very comforting to her and it makes her feel secure. She then elaborated by telling me childhood stories of endless rainy days and being all warm and cosy in her home with her family sitting around a turf fire and sipping hot vegetable soup together. She even went out on a limb and said that the rain created a sort of “blanket of love” for them. While it didn’t change my attitude toward all the rainy gray days here, I thought it was a very beautiful and positive way to look at it. Her memories were just the type of narrative that could be included in any “Chicken Soup for the Soul” book.  Needless to say, when the server came round’ to take our order, we had all decided on the parsnip and apple soup to start.

So here we go, soup season is about to begin and it is one of my absolute favourite things about Ireland. Far different than our thin, brothy based soups in America, most Irish soups are velvety, creamy goodness. Simple, but brimming with flavour and nutrients: leek and potato, farmhouse vegetable, wild mushroom, seafood chowder… even nettle soup is delicious. Long ago the Irish cleverly figured out that if you simply sauté any vegetable or protein, boil it in a nice stock, puree and add a touch of cream, you’ve created a masterpiece. While I will always love a good Matzo ball soup from a NY deli, a crock of spicy Cincinnati-style chili or my own grandmother’s homemade chicken noodle soup–Irish soups and chowders have completely won me over.

Body and soul.

Curried Parsnip and Apple Soup

2 Tbsp Butter

1 lb/500 g Parsnips, thinly sliced

1 lb/500 g Apples (green Bramley or Granny Smith) peeled, cored and thinly sliced

1 onion, minced

1 tbsp curry powder

1 tsp cumin

1 tsp ground coriander

1 clove garlic, crushed

4 cups/1 litre chicken stock

salt and pepper

1/2 cup heavy cream (optional)

2 tsp chopped fresh chives

Melt butter over medium heat in a large pot, then add parsnips, apple and onion and cook, stirring frequently, until they soften but don’t brown, 4-5 minutes. Add the curry powder, cumin, coriander and garlic. Stir well and cook for about 1 minute more.

Reduce the heat to low. Add chicken stock, stir well, cover the pot and simmer for about 30 minutes or until parsnips and apples are very soft. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Remove soup from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Working in batches, puree in a food processor or blender. Return to pot and whisk in cream. Serve garnished with chives. (this soup is also very good served cold)

Slan Abhaile,

Imen

As published in Irish Country Living 9.9.10

Photo by Imen McDonnell, assisted by Master Geoffrey McDonnell

Recipe from “The Country Cooking of Ireland” by Colman Andrews

The days of summer are coming to a close, but I am still clinging on…here’s to a few more ice cream dreams.

I first sampled brown bread ice cream at Murphy’s Ice Cream Cafe in Dingle, Co. Kerry. It was 2005 and I was pregnant. As far as I was concerned, it was the next best thing to apple pie. 2 years later, I had it again and truth be told, it’s delicious, bold flavour stood the test of time (and pregnancy taste buds too)

Making ice cream in Ireland goes back to the early 20th Century, when Irish farming families such as ours discovered that by mixing eggs with sugar and cream and popping it into their newly discovered “deep freeze” overnight, you could create a delightful dessert that used ingredients that were always at hand. Over the past few years, R and I have pondered the idea of producing artisan ice cream on the farm as we are both are lovers of this frozen dairy delight, but, alas, there are only so many hours in the day and so many projects we can take on (still, we never say never!)

I discovered this recipe for Brown Bread & Irish Whiskey Ice Cream in Clare Connery’s lovely book, Irish Food & Folklore. I love that the brown bread is carmelised and crunchy which gives it a nice texture (and, of course, the whiskey gives it a kick). After doing further research, I found that there are other popular variations including the classic Brown Bread & Guinness (Murphy’s Ice Cream does an amazing one) and Brown Bread & Bailey’s Irish Cream, both of which are absolutely heavenly.

This very creamy home-made ice cream is remarkably easy to make and tastes better than any scoop of Häagen-Dazs I’ve ever had so go on, give it a try. If you’d like, you can swap out the whiskey for Guinness or Bailey’s for something a little different.

Brown Bread & Irish Whiskey Ice Cream

Preheat over to 240 C/475 F

Prep time: 30 mins. Cooking time: 10 mins. for crumbs

175 g/6 oz day old brown bread crumbs (not soda or wheaten)

125 g/4 oz demerra (brown) sugar

3 eggs

65 g/2.5 oz caster sugar (fine sugar)

75 ml/3 fl oz Irish Whiskey

450 ml/3/4 pint double cream

Fresh mint leaves to decorate

Combine bread crumbs and demerra sugar in a mixing bowl. Spread over a large roasting tray and bake in preheated oven until the sugar has carmelised, usually 10 minutes. Allow to cool completely.

Whisk the eggs and caster sugar together until very thick ( you can use an electric mixer) and pale cream in colour. Fold the carmelised bread crumbs into the eggs followed by the whiskey and double cream, whisking until it holds it’s shape. Pour into a rigid container (stainless steel works well) and freeze overnight.

Cook’s notes: Irish wheaten or soda bread is not suitable for this ice cream as it makes it rather heavy and unappetising. However, any type of brown wholemeal or granary bread is excellent. Freezing is done in the deep freeze and no stirring or churning is required. An ice cream maker is not needed.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.

Slan Abhaile

Imen

Photo by Imen McDonnell. Assisted by Master Geoffrey McDonnell

Tags: brown bread, cream, farm, Farming, food, foodie, Haagen Daz, Ice Cream, ireland, Irish, Irish Whiskey, Murphy's Ice Cream