Irish As Paddy's Pig

This year, St. Patrick's Day sneaked up on me and caught me ill-prepared. No spuds in the house, and no cabbage, except the purple kind which, as we all know, simply won't do when green is the color of the day. Not even a nice cut of corned beef, although they were for sale in all stores this week - I just somehow missed the boat. You'd think my Irish ancestors had missed that boat, too!

They didn't, bless their hearts. They sailed in the same enormous wave of immigration as so many others did, three from southern Ireland and one from the north. Only one of them had any education - my paternal grandmother's father had graduated from Trinity College in Dublin. (He was the only Protestant). They went to work in the woolen mills in western Massachusetts and we'd all still be there if my grandfather hadn't taken it into his head to join the Navy. He went to Annapolis, class of 1900. I have a photograph of him in his uniform, complete with exaggerated epaulets and fore-and-aft hat like Horatio Hornblower.

(By the way, whatever happened to Ioan Gruffudd? He was so charming in that role and I've never seen him again. Must look him up.)

Anyway, there I was at 4pm on St. Patrick's Day without a single Irish thing to eat in the house. Then, I remembered Irish Soda Bread and was saved! Just enough flour in the cupboard, just enough caraway seeds and - wonder of wonders! - we even had milk that had not yet soured. Raisins, baking soda, butter, salt. That's all you really need to make two fine cottage loaves of fragrant, crusty soda bread. I adapted this recipe from epicurious.com; I hate vegetable shortening and I love butter; did a quick substitute of the hated one for the loved one and the bread that emerged from my desperately dirty oven half an hour later was a true tribute to my Irish heritage. While it was still warm, I wrapped two of the halves in napkins, added a twist of silly shamrock ribbon and took them over to my neighbors so we wouldn't eat them all ourselves.

The half we kept was so homey, so simple that it just warmed the heart from the inside out. Crusty on the outside, we couldn't resist breaking off little bits here and there before it even cooled. The raisins made sweet, jammy pockets and the caraway seeds surprised us with the depth of the flavor they lend to the whole.

I had to search my closet for something green to wear to the St. Patrick's Day party our uphill neighbor gave. As I sipped my Irish coffee at the party and nibbled on a cookie shaped like a shamrock, I swapped stories of Irish heritage with the other guests. And I left that last half of soda bread for our hostess as a way of saying thanks for giving me a chance to remember my roots.

Irish Flag Bread

I only make Irish soda bread every now and then, mainly because it's so damn good that if I made it more often, My Beloved and I might have to pay for the dreaded gym membership, something we have successfully avoided thus far. There is something magical about the combination of caraway and raisins flavoring what might otherwise be a pretty dull loaf.

With St. Patrick's Day coming soon, I gave in to the temptation to make it for the holiday. In the past, I had some oranges to add even more flavor to the bread and that was so good that I wanted to do something similar this time. I had clementine tangerines on hand so I zested one of those and one of the so-fragrant limes that pal Jeanne gave us when we were visiting her in LA - Jeanne's limes smell like the Buddha's Hand citron, flowery as well as citrusy. It also seemed perfect that the colors of the lime and the tangerine are on the Irish flag.

The result was a marvelous little round crusty loaf of Irish heaven in which the citrus played off the sweet raisins and herbal caraway flavors. The crust was crisp and chewy, the crumb tender. I cut the recipe down from last year's bread, as we only need one loaf for at least three meals. Below you'll find what I did this year; hope your St. Patrick's Day experiments are equally blessed.

Irish Flag Bread, adapted from Gourmet Magazine, October 1991

2 cups flour (I use unbleached white)
1-1/2 teaspoons double-acting baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
a generous 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup raisins or currants, rinsed in hot water and patted dry
1-1/2 teaspoons caraway seeds
zest of one tangerine and one lime
1 cup buttermilk (I used kefir this time)

Into a large bowl, sift together the dry ingredients and stir in the raisins, caraway seeds and citrus zest. Add the buttermilk and stir the mixture until it forms a dough. Turn out onto a well-floured surface and knead briefly, about one minute.

Shape into a round loaf and place on buttered parchment paper on a baking sheet. Cut an X 1/4 inch deep across the top with a sharp knife and bake the loaf in the middle of a preheated 350 degree oven for 45-55 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean. Transfer to a rack to cool.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Irish Despite The Orange

It seems disrespectful to add anything orange to food as typically Irish as soda bread, but I confess that I, a daughter of the Auld Sod, did just that and on St. Patty's Day, no less!

I added orange peel to the traditional raisins and caraway seeds.

You see, Cookiecrumb and Cranky had gifted me with some of the wonderful navel oranges from their tree, and the peel of those oranges is as good as the insides. Preparing to start the soda bread, I stopped to peel an orange for snacking, and inspiration struck.

I used my zester to peel thin strips of the vibrant orange skin, chopped the strips into half inch pieces, and mixed them into the dough. The result was deeply fragrant bread dotted with sweet pockets of dark raisins, zingy spots of orange and just a hint of caraway under all that goodness.

I was wearing green and singing "Irish Eyes" as I committed this blasphemy - I hope that will compensate enough that my Irish ancestors will forgive me.

Irish Soda Bread with Orange Peel, adapted from Gourmet magazine, October 1991

4 cups bread flour (I used all-purpose unbleached and it was fine)
1 Tablespoon double-acting baking powder
1 teaspoon salt (another time, I might add just a tad more)
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup raisins or dried currants, rinsed in hot water and patted dry
1 Tablespoon caraway seeds (a bit more of these wouldn't hurt, either, next time)
zest of one orange, orange part only, cut into thin strips of about 1/2 inch in length
2 cups buttermilk

Into a large bowl, sift together the dry ingredients and stir in the raisins, caraway seeds and orange peel. Add the buttermilk and stir the mixture until it forms a dough. Turn out onto a well-floured surface and knead briefly, about one minute.

Shape two equal round loaves out of the dough and place them on buttered parchment paper on a baking sheet. (You can omit the parchment, if you want, but it makes cleanup a lot easier). Cut an X 1/4 inch deep across the tops with a sharp knife and bake the loaves in the middle of a preheated 350 degree F oven for 45-55 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean. Transfer the loaves to a rack to cool.