I was in a pub in County Cork on New Year’s Eve 10 years ago when the euro was introduced in 2002. We were staying with some friends whose parents had a holiday home in Schull, and I remember there was a German woman sitting in the corner of the pub smoking a pipe. After midnight, when we paid for our pints with Irish pounds, our change was handed back in euros, the notes starch-crisp and the coins shiny, fresh from the mint. It was the middle of the Celtic Tiger and everything was still possible. A decade later, with a wallet full of coins circulated from all over the European Union, no one seems to know what will happen now. Will the euro still be around by New Year’s Eve 2012? Will I be lugging around those old heavy Irish punts instead?

I’m just like everyone else I know these days — worried about money, a little scared about the future and nervous at what the coming year might bring. I’ve stopped reading the papers (again), put off by all the doom and gloom and financial crises I don’t understand. Instead, I retreat to my kitchen and make soup. This time of year calls for a big pot of lentil vegetable soup, in the spirit of the Italian tradition of eating lentils in the new year, when their coin-like shape becomes symbolic of wealth and luck. Who couldn’t use a little of that these days? I’ll take it wherever I can get it and eating some lentils is as good a place as any to start. That, and a lotto ticket.

Wishing all our readers a happy, healthy and (hopefully!) prosperous new year!

The Barefoot Contessa’s Lentil Vegetable Soup
adapted from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook by Ina Garten

Serves 8 to 10

This makes a lot of soup, but I make a full batch anyway and freeze half of it for another time. Otherwise, just halve the recipe if you don’t want to make quite so much. If you’ve got a Parmesan rind hanging around (I always save them for soups and pasta sauces), add it to the soup along with the stock for an extra umami hit.

1 lb (450 g) French green lentils
3 large yellow onions, chopped
2 leeks, white part only, chopped
1 tablespoon minced garlic (3 cloves)
olive oil
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon minced fresh thyme leaves or 1 teaspoon dried
1 teaspoon ground cumin
8 celery stalked, chopped
4 to 6 carrots, chopped
3 quarts (3 liters) vegetable stock (or use chicken stock if you’re not worried about keeping it vegetarian)
3 tablespoons tomato paste
2 tablespoons red wine or red wine vinegar
freshly grated Parmesan cheese, to serve

In a large bowl, cover the lentils with boiling water and allow to sit for 15 minutes. Drain.

In a large stockpot on medium heat, saute the onions, leeks, and garlic with the olive oil, salt, pepper, thyme, and cumin for 20 minutes, until the vegetables are translucent and tender. Add the celery and carrots and saute for 10 more minutes. Add the stock, tomato paste, and lentils. If you have a Parmesan rind hanging around, add that in too. Cover and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer uncovered for 1 hour, until the lentils are cooked through. Check the seasonings. Add the red wine and serve hot, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with grated Parmesan.

I originally posted this on February 15 2010, but have updated the recipe to make it easier and less time consuming.

I’ve been trying to go back to cookbooks I haven’t used in awhile, so last week I pulled The River Cottage Meat Book by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall down off the shelf and cassoulet caught my eye. While I wound up making a different version, it ticks a lot of boxes — this one can be made in a slow cooker, it’s good value (cassoulet is a traditional French peasant dish), it’s hearty, rib-sticking food for cold nights and it makes more than enough for two meals.

If you like the idea of a cassoulet but don’t have a slow cooker or don’t have all day to let it cook, you could try Jacques Pépin’s 30-minute version or Jamie Oliver’s kinda sausage cassoulet. In his recipe, Hugh F-W suggests serving this with an orange and watercress salad.

Slow Cooker Cassoulet

Serves 8 to 10

If you can’t get pork shoulder, pork leg or even loin would work too — just get the butcher to remove the fat for you. If you wanted to add in some veg, a few carrots, peeled and sliced on the diagonal, would work well.

olive oil
3 onions, coarsely chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 lb (1.4 kg) boneless pork shoulder, cut into 2-inch pieces (you can ask your butcher to do this for you)
1 lb (450 g) fully cooked or smoked chorizo or garlic sausage links, sliced on the diagonal
2 x 14 oz (400 g) cans of cannellini, haricot or Great Northern beans
1 x 28 oz (or 2 x 14 oz/400 g) cans whole plum tomatoes, drained and coarsely chopped
2 cups (500 ml) chicken stock
1 cup (500 ml) dry white wine, such as Sauvignon Blanc (or use stock or water if you prefer not to use alcohol)
3 tablespoons tomato paste
1 head of garlic, halved crosswise
1 cup (100 g) breadcrumbs, plus extra to serve
a handful of chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, plus extra for garnish
crusty bread, to serve

Put a large frying pan over a medium heat and add in a splash of olive oil. Add the onions and a pinch of salt to prevent the onions from browning and cook for about 10 minutes, until they’re translucent but now browned. Transfer the onions to the slow cooker, then stir in the pork, chorizo, beans, tomatoes, stock, wine, tomato paste and garlic along with a generous seasoning of salt and pepper.

Set the cooker to low and cook, covered, for about 8 hours, until the pork pulls apart easily with a fork (though it could be as much as 10 hours). Skim off any fat and remove and discard the garlic. Fold in the panko or breadcrumbs and the parsley. Taste and season as needed.

Let the cassoulet stand at room temperature for 10 minutes before serving. Sprinkle each serving with extra breadcrumbs and parsley and serve with warm crusty bread.

A couple weeks ago I was at The Tannery in County Waterford having lunch with a few other bloggers and food writers to celebrate the launch of the Cook with Avonmore site, which features Tannery chef Paul Flynn as their first guest chef. On the menu that day there was a choice of crab crème brûlée or this bacon and butterbean chowder as a starter. I went for the crab not only because it’s The Tannery’s signature dish, but because I knew I had the recipe for the chowder in my press pack. What I didn’t know, though, was what a fantastic recipe it is. From just a few ordinary ingredients, this soup is more than the sum of its parts.

Paul Flynn says, “A chowder for me is something that’s really rich and comforting. It’s something that you eat in front of the fire or just after a lovely long walk and you’re cold and you want something hot and heart-warming to eat.” Serve this with some good crusty bread, a nice cheese and a glass of red wine — either with or without the long walk beforehand — and I’m willing to bet it will be one of the nicest meals you’ll make this autumn.

Bacon and Butterbean Chowder
adapted from Paul Flynn via cookwithavonmore.ie

Serves 2 as a main course or 4 as a starter

Paul Flynn says that “when you use beautiful ingredients like butter and cream, you’ve got to realize that if you put just enough in, it gives you that lovely, luxurious richness that you’re looking for, and that will really comfort you on a cold night”, but you can use a little less cream if you don’t want the chowder to be quite as rich. You can also use a handful of fresh parsley instead of thyme.

knob of butter
olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
pinch of salt
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
6 pieces of smoked bacon or dry cure streaky bacon, finely diced
1 tablespoon flour
2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme leaves, plus extra to garnish (or 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme)
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
freshly ground black pepper
2 cups (500 ml) chicken stock
1 x 14 oz (400 g) can of butterbeans, rinsed
1/2 cup (125 ml) cream
crusty bread, to serve

Melt the butter in a pot over a medium heat along with a splash of olive oil so the butter doesn’t burn. Add the onion and a pinch of salt to prevent the onion from colouring. As Paul Flynn says, “The real key to this is that what you do inside this pot with the onions will provide you with the whole base flavour for the soup. If you rush this, it’s not going to be right.” So turn the heat down a little to medium-low, put the lid on and “let the magic happen”. Cook the onion for about 10 minutes, until it’s translucent. Raise the heat back to medium, add in the garlic and cook for 1 minute more, then add in the bacon and cook for about 5 minutes (though note that the bacon won’t go crispy because of the juice from the onions). Sprinkle the flour over the onions and bacon and give it all a stir, then allow it to cook for 2 minutes. Add in the thyme and mustard and a generous grinding of black pepper, then pour in the stock. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and add in the butterbeans. Continue to simmer the soup for a few minutes, until the beans are warmed through, then stir through the cream. Taste the soup and adjust the seasoning if you think it needs more salt, though be careful because the bacon and stock are already salty. Ladle the soup into bowls, garnish with some of the reserved thyme leaves and serve with crusty bread.

Though I’m a city dweller, I see my fair share of corn at the end of summer. A half hour drive north, south, or west of Milwaukee (Lake Michigan borders our eastern coast) will lead you into corn country. At this time of year, the fields are just turning from gold to green or are being turned under in preparation for next year’s crop. Grocery stores, farmers markets, tiny hand built produce stands, and even the backs of pick up trucks offer plenty of corn for sale. Our CSA delivered a dozen ears for the second week in a row. Though the corn was past its prime, I salvaged the slightly starchy ears in this chowder. I am not usually a fan of corn chowder, having experienced one too many mediocre, pasty bowls of the stuff but this version is vastly better than any other I’ve eaten, helped out by the addition of tomatoes and hot peppers–also abundant right now. And since I’m on the topic of corn, I may as well mention one of my favorite documentaries in recent years, King Corn. If you ever wondered how, what, and why America grows mass quantities of corn, check it out.

Summer Corn Chowder
adapted from Food52

Though I rarely follow recipes that call for peeling tomatoes, this time the effort was worth it. The diced tomatoes nearly melt into the soup, turning it an appealing shade of pink. To peel tomatoes, simply score each tomato on the bottom with a small “x” then submerge them into a pot of boiling water. After a minute or two, gently remove the tomatoes from the boiling water and place them in a bowl of ice water. After a quick soak in the ice bath, you’ll be able to easily peel of the skins.

Serves 6

8 medium ears of corn
6 strips of bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 onion, diced small
1 medium poblano or other hot pepper, seeded and finely chopped
1 jalapeno, seeded and finely chopped (optional, I omitted this ingredient to keep the chowder kid friendly)
1 celery rib, finely chopped
1 lb (450 g) red potatoes, peeled and cubed into 1/2 in. pieces
3 medium tomatoes, peeled, seeded and finely chopped
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/4 teaspoon sugar
1 small bay leaf
2 cups (500 ml) light cream (half and half), at room temperature
1 cup (250 ml) milk
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Tabasco hot sauce, to serve

Working over a bowl, cut the corn kernels from the cobs at about half their depth. Then, using the back of the knife, scrape the cobs over the bowl to release all the “milk”; set aside.

In a large dutch oven, fry the bacon over moderately high heat, stirring occasionally, until crisp, about 10 minutes. Transfer the bacon to paper towels to drain. Crumble and reserve.

Discard all but 3 tablespoons of the bacon drippings from the pan. Add the onion and cook over moderate heat until golden, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the poblano and jalepeno peppers and celery and cook until slightly softened, about 5 minutes more. Add the potatoes, tomatoes, salt, allspice, sugar, bay leaf and the reserved corn kernels with their “milk” and stir well. Cook over moderate heat until mixture begins to sizzle.

Reduce the heat to low. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are tender, about 45 minutes. Stir in the cream, milk and bacon and bring just to a boil. Remove from heat and season with black pepper to taste. Ladle the chowder into bowls and serve with a good loaf of bread and a few drops of Tabasco.

Anyone else out there having salad withdrawal? What I wouldn’t give for a plate of tender lettuces, crisp cucumbers and juicy tomatoes. But, alas, there is still snow in my yard and we are a long way from August. Though I promised myself to try more winter salads, I added only one to my repertoire this year, a hearty red cabbage and apple concoction that’s more side dish than salad. The addition of bacon made it robust enough to serve to my steak-and-potatoes-loving dad. The baked potato soup served alongside also benefits from the addition of some crumbled bacon. And honestly, if you’re going to the trouble of cooking up a few ounces of bacon for the salad, you may as well cook up the whole package. If we can’t have great produce, we may as well enjoy another excuse to eat bacon.

Red Cabbage Salad with Apples, Bacon, and Pecans
adapted from Best of the Best Vol. 9: The Best Recipes from the 25 Best Cookbooks of the Year

Serves 6

This cookbook is actually a compilation of recipes taken from other cookbooks. I love that someone else took the trouble of figuring out which recipes are winners since I have limited cookbook space in my kitchen. This recipe is from Chef Suzanne Goin’s Sunday Suppers at Lucques. I cut prep time for the recipe by skipping the freshly toasted bread crumbs called for in the original recipe and buying pre-roasted pecans. Chef Goin serves this salad alongside pork chops or duck.

1/2 cup (50 g) pecans
1/4 lb (110 g) bacon, sliced into 1/4 in. thick lardons
1 1/2 lbs (680 g) red cabbage, cored and finely shredded
1 red onion, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise
1 1 /2 teaspoons fresh thyme or 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
2 tablespoons red wine or sherry vinegar
salt and freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard
1 apple (Fuji, Gala, or Braeburn) halved, cored and cut into 2-by-1/4-inch matchsticks

Spread the pecans in a heavy skillet and toast over medium heat for 5–6 minutes, stirring frequently, until fragrant and golden. Transfer the pecans to a plate to cool, then coarsely chop them.

In a large, deep skillet, cook the bacon over moderately high heat, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned but still chewy, about 6 minutes. Stir in the red cabbage, onion, and thyme. Add the vinegar and cook until the cabbage is wilted but still crunchy, about 6 minutes more. Season with salt and pepper.

In a large bowl, toss the cabbage with the mustard. Add the apple and toss gently. Sprinkle the salad with the toasted pecans and serve.

***

Baked Potato Soup
adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Serves 6

1 head garlic
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 medium leeks, white and light green parts halved lengthwise, washed, and chopped
6 cups (1 1/2 l) low-sodium chicken broth
2 bay leaves
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 1/4 lbs (1 kg) pounds russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1/3 (80 ml) cup sour cream
ground black pepper

toppings (optional):
fresh chives or scallions, minced
bacon bits
sour cream
cheddar cheese, grated

Rinse the head of garlic to remove any outside grit or dirt. Cut the top third off the head and peel any loose papery skins off the bottom two-thirds. Pop out some of the garlic clove tips and mince them.

In a large, heavy pot or Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the leeks and cook them until soft (but not brown), about 5 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook another minute. Add the larger part of the garlic head (intact, not chopped), broth, bay leaves and 3/4 teaspoon salt. Reduce heat and simmer until the garlic is very tender when pierced with tip of knife, 30 to 40 minutes. Add the potatoes and continue to simmer, partially covered, until potatoes are tender, about 15 to 20 minutes. Stir occasionally, but gently.

Discard bay leaves. Carefully remove garlic heads. Optional: If you’d like an extra garlic boost to the soup, using tongs or paper towels, squeeze garlic head at root end until cloves slip out of their skins. Using a fork, mash the garlic cloves to smooth paste and add it back to the soup.

Stir in the sour cream to soup and cook for another 2 to 3 minutes. Adjust seasonings, adding more salt and pepper to taste. Using an immersion blender, process the soup until chunky-creamy, leaving lots of potato texture intact. (Alternatively, transfer a portion of the potatoes and broth to a food processor or blender and puree until smooth.) Serve with whatever makes you happy on top, or nothing at all.

“How easily happiness begins by / dicing onions”, writes William Matthews in his poem, “Onions”. This is never more true than when making French onion soup. And surely there can be no higher calling or better end for an onion than to be sauteed in butter, then doused in a boozy broth of brandy, sherry and wine. As an easy midweek soup-and-sandwich dinner goes, you could do worse than one that makes you wish you were sitting in a Parisian café.

French Onion Soup
adapted from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook by Ina Garten

Serves 4 to 6

2 1/2 lb (1.1 kg) yellow onions, halved and sliced 1/4 inch thick
1/4 lb (110 g) unsalted butter
1 bay leaf
1/2 cup (125 ml) medium-dry sherry
1/2 cup (125 ml) brandy or Cognac
1 1/2 cups (375 ml) good dry white wine
8 cups (2 liters) beef stock
salt and freshly ground black pepper
freshly grated Parmesan, to serve

Melt the butter in a large stockpot on a medium heat. Saute the onions with the bay leaf and a pinch of salt (to stop the onions from browning) for 20 minutes, until the onions turn a rich golden brown color. Deglaze the pan with the sherry and brandy and simmer uncovered for 5 minutes. Add the white wine and simmer uncovered for 15 more minutes. Add the beef stock plus salt and pepper (but not too much salt because your stock is liable to be salty already). Bring to a boil, then simmer uncovered for 20 minutes. Remove the bay leaf, adjust the seasoning and serve hot with grated Parmesan on top.

***

Croque Monsieur
adapted from How to Cook: Book One by Delia Smith

Serves 1

A croque monsieur is really just a grilled ham and cheese sandwich. It originated in France as a kind of fast food snack served in cafés and bars. A croque madame is a version of this sandwich with a fried or poached egg on top. I was tempted by the Barefoot Contessa’s version of this classic, which she smothers in a béchamel sauce, but I opted to keep things simpler (and less calorific) with Delia Smith’s recipe. I did use Ina’s tip though to add some Dijon mustard to the sandwich.

2 large slices good-quality white bread, buttered
Dijon mustard (optional)
1/2 cup (50 g) Gruyère, finely grated
2 or 3 slices of cooked ham, Parma ham or wafer-thin ham
2 tablespoons (30 g) butter, melted
1 rounded tablespoon finely grated Parmesan
salt and freshly ground black pepper

On one slice of the buttered bread, add a thin smear of Dijon mustard (option). Sprinkle over half the grated Gruyère, then cover that with the slices of ham, folding them if need be to fit the size of the bread. Now sprinkle the rest of the Gruyère on top of the ham, season with salt and pepper, then press the other slice of bread on top of that and press it down firmly. Now brush the top side of the sandwich with some of the melted butter, sprinkle it with half the Parmesan and press it into the bread. Transfer the sandwich to a baking sheet and grill it in the oven for about 2 minutes, 2 inches from the heat, making sure to keep a close eye on it so that it doesn’t burn. When it’s golden brown, turn it over, brush the other side with melted butter, sprinkle the rest of the Parmesan all over and grill for another 2 minutes. Remove it from the grill, cut it into halves or quarters and eat it while it’s still warm and crunchy.

The first time I ever tried black pudding (a.k.a. blood pudding), I spit it out. I had only been living in Ireland for a few weeks and was at a fancy book launch for my new publishing job. One of the canapés being passed around was circles of pan-fried black pudding with a fancy relish on top, and not wanting to lose face in front of my new colleagues, not to mention my boyfriend, I was determined to try some. When in Rome, right? But I just couldn’t get over the fact that it was made from blood and I couldn’t even bring myself to chew it. Growing up in suburban Illinois, where an egg roll from the Chinese takeout was the most exotic thing I’d ever eaten, it was too much of a culture shock.

I was telling this story to my friend Caroline a few hours before we were due to go to the Clonakilty by Candlelight dinner last week. “Are you sure you want to go?” she asked, looking worried. “You know they’re bound to serve it there.” “Oh, I’m over it now,” I said. “I even ordered a black pudding and goat cheese tart at a restaurant last year.”

I was lucky to get a place at the free dinner on its second night, which was run as a pop-up restaurant by Clonakilty Blackpudding for only six nights. The location was kept secret until the day before, which turned out to be a Georgian house on Dublin’s north side. Caroline and I were the first to arrive (fellow food blogger Aoife was there that night as well) and we were handed a glass of Prosecco and directed towards the biggest turf fire I’ve ever seen, stacked eight briquettes deep at least. We also got a sneak peek of the room next door that we’d be eating in – along with 2,000 creepy china dolls crammed into floor-to-ceiling shelves that lined the room – and a look at the menu, which did indeed include a main course of black pudding with scallops and a carrot puree.

Because I’d won some Clonakilty black and white pudding, sausages and bacon by correctly answering the question “What is entomophagy the consumption of?” (insects), I made this white bean and sausage soup, an old cheap and cheerful stand-by. And feeling inspired by the chocolate-covered bacon, bacon praline and 12-year-old Jameson whiskey with a bacon and rosemary twist that we were served, I made this almond and candied bacon bark. This dessert seems to divide people firmly into two camps – people who have never heard of such a thing and think it sounds downright weird (they must have somehow missed the bacon mania boat), and people who think it sounds delicious and can’t wait to make it themselves. If you’re the former, then all I can say is don’t knock it till you’ve tried it – and then once you’ve tried it, try to stop yourself from eating all of it.

White Bean and Sausage Soup
adapted from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook by Ina Garten

Serves 6

I’ve adapted the Barefoot Contessa’s original recipe to add sausages, but I make it just as often without them for a vegetarian version.

1 lb (450 g) dried white cannellini beans
olive oil
6 to 8 good-quality sausages
3 large onions, sliced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 large branch fresh rosemary
2 quarts (2 liters) chicken or vegetable stock
1 bay leaf
salt and freshly ground black pepper

In a medium bowl, cover the beans with water by at least 1 inch and leave them in the refrigerator for 6 hours or overnight. Drain.

In a large stockpot over a low to medium heat, heat some olive oil and cook the sausages for about 10 or 15 minutes, until they’re browned on all sides and cooked through. Remove the sausages to a plate and set aside. Add the onions to the pot and saute for 10 to 15 minutes, until they are translucent. Add the garlic and cook for 1 more minute. Add the drained white beans, rosemary, chicken stock, and bay leaf. Cover, bring to a boil, and simmer for 30 to 40 minutes, until the beans are very soft. Remove the rosemary branch and the bay leaf. Pass the soup through the coarsest blade of a food mill or place in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade and pulse until coarsely pureed. Return the soup to the pot over a medium heat. Slice the sausages and add to the soup to reheat. Add salt and pepper to taste and serve hot.

***

Almond and Candied Bacon Bark
adapted from Ready for Dessert by David Lebovitz

David Lebovitz says it’s best to make the candied bacon the same day you plan to use it. If you want to play around with flavors (though this almond and candied bacon combo is insanely addictive), check out this list of top 10 chocolate bark mix-ins from the Big Girls, Small Kitchen blog for some inspiration.

1 1/4 lb (565 g) good-quality chocolate, broken into pieces
1/2 cup (50 g) flaked almonds, toasted
5 pieces of bacon, pancetta or streaky rashers
3 tablespoons brown sugar
flaky sea salt, such as Maldon (optional)

Preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C) and line a baking try with foil (shiny side down) or parchment paper. Place the strips of bacon on the tray and sprinkle each strip with about 2 teaspoons of brown sugar. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, turning the strips over halfway through baking and dragging them through the melted sugar on the tray. They’re done when they’re mahogany colored. Cool on a wire rack until crisp, then crumble or roughly chop. Set aside.

While the bacon cools, place a piece of parchment paper on a baking tray or stretch a piece of cling film taught across a baking tray instead. Add the chocolate to a large heatproof bowl. Set the bowl over a pot of simmering water and stir often until the chocolate is almost melted.

Remove the bowl from the heat, wipe off the bottom, then continue to stir the chocolate until it’s all melted and smooth. Mix in two-thirds of the toasted almonds and two-thirds of the bacon.

Scrape the mixture onto the prepared baking tray and use a spatula to spread it to the desired thickness. Add the remaining almonds and bacon to the top of the chocolate, pressing them in lightly so they’ll adhere. Sprinkle bits of salt, if using, across the top. Refrigerate the baking sheet until the chocolate sets. Once the bark is firm, break it into pieces. Store the bark in the fridge, where it will keep for 3 days.

Inevitably after most holiday meals, I find myself walking to my car with a plastic grocery bag of slightly gooey, unattractive, and lukewarm bag of bones and meat scraps. Perhaps no one else wants to carry home such an odd parcel, or perhaps everyone knows of my frugality. Whatever the reason, I’m happy to turn the humble carcass into a hearty broth at home. If you browse through the recipes on this site, you’ll find that both Kristin and I use broth frequently. Although I’ve found a good store-bought brand (Swanson’s Organic Chicken Broth), nothing beats homemade.  It’s really cheap and easy to make.

For this year’s turkey broth I threw the leftover bones (with scraps attached) into a large stock pot and poured in water to cover. I roughly chopped and added one onion, one carrot, one celery stalk, and a handful of fresh parsley. For added zip, I threw in a pinch of dried thyme, a bay leaf, and about a tablespoon of salt. After bringing it to a boil, I let the liquid barely simmer for about three hours, strained it, and poured it into quart jars. After a night in the fridge, you can skim off any fat that rises to the top and pour the broth into whatever size container you wish. It will keep in the fridge for a few days and frozen for several months. I like to freeze it in muffin tins, then put the small broth-circles into larger storage bags, perfect for adding to sauces and stir-frys. I didn’t freeze all my broth this year, instead sacrificing a quart for this quick and kid-friendly meal. For extra cuteness, serve in bunny bowls as pictured below.

Tortellini in Broth with Spinach

Serves 4 as main course, 6 as first course

14 oz (400 g) dried tortellini
1 quart (1 liter) chicken or turkey broth
12 oz (340 g) fresh baby spinach
grated Parmesan cheese, to serve

Cook the tortellini according to the package directions. Drain the tortellini and set it aside.

While the pasta cooks, bring the broth to a simmer. Depending on the broth you are using, you may need to add salt or pepper to taste.

After the tortellini is cooked, add the spinach to the broth and cook for about 2 minutes, stirring gently, until the spinach is wilted. To serve, divide the broth, spinach, and tortellini between bowls. Top each bowl with grated Parmesan, if desired.

The Irish Independent recently ran an article about cheap casseroles coming back into fashion in these penny-pinching times. Cuts of meat that people turned their backs on during the Celtic Tiger boom are now reappearing on shopping lists and in casserole pots — cuts like lamb shanks, oxtails and beef shins. I discovered this recipe while watching Channel 4’s show Food: What Goes in Your Basket, where UK food critic Jay Rayner made it with shin of beef. I’ve modified it to use regular stewing beef, which is also much less expensive than prime cuts.

But just because a dish is economical doesn’t mean it can’t be delicious too, like this stew. In fact, I liked it so much that I made it twice in two weeks — once after watching the Food program and again because it was too perfect to pass up as an entry to November’s Irish foodies cookalong, which had a winter warmers theme. It might also have something to do with the fact that after coveting one for ages, I bought a Le Creuset casserole pot as a birthday present for myself back in September and loved the fact that I could actually cook it in the oven. But no matter which way you cook this — in the oven, on the stovetop or in a slow cooker — you’ll love it.

Beef, Chorizo and Ale Stew
adapted from Jay Rayner’s shin of beef recipe from Food: What Goes in Your Basket

Serves 8

If you don’t have a casserole pot (a.k.a. Dutch oven), you can simmer the stew on the stovetop instead. Alternatively, you could make this in a slow cooker (see below). I used O’Hara’s Irish Red Ale for this stew.

2 lb (1 kg) stewing beef, cut into cubes
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons flour
olive oil
1 x 7 oz to 11 oz (200 g to 300 g) chorizo ring, cut into bite-sized pieces
3 red onions, roughly chopped
3 carrots, roughly chopped
2 celery stalks, roughly chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 bottle of ale
2 cups (1 pint) beef or chicken stock
1 bouquet garni (bay leaves, thyme sprigs and parsley, tied with kitchen string), or 1 teaspoon mixed dried herbs
1 tablespoon brown sugar
chopped fresh parsley, to garnish (optional)
mashed potatoes or crusty bread, to serve

Preheat the oven to 270°F (130°C).

Season the beef with salt and pepper and toss in the flour until the beef pieces are evenly coated. Heat some olive oil in a casserole pot (Dutch oven) and brown the beef in batches, making sure not to crowd the pot, or the meat won’t brown properly. Remove from the pot and set aside. Add in the chorizo and cook for a few minutes, until it has started to release its oils. Add in the onions, carrots and celery and cook for 10 minutes, until the vegetables have softened. Add in the garlic and cook for 1 minute more.

Deglaze the pot with a small glass of the ale and simmer until it has reduced and thickened. Add the rest of the bottle and bring back to a simmer. Return the beef to the pot, and if it’s not fully covered, top up with the stock. (Add the whole pint of stock if you like a thinner stew, add less if you like a more concentrated broth.) Add the bouquet garni or dried herbs and stir in the sugar.

Cover and put in the oven for 3 to 4 hours (or simmer on the stovetop on a low heat), stirring a few times. The meat is ready when it shreds apart. As an optional extra if you want to intensify the flavor, you can strain off all the liquid into another pot and reduce the liquor by half, then return the liquid to the casserole pot. Serve with lots of chopped fresh parsley and mashed potatoes or crusty bread.

Slow cooker variation: Follow the recipe above until you’ve deglazed the pot, then transfer the stew to your slow cooker. Add the beef, stock, herbs and sugar to the slow cooker — though you should use less liquid because it won’t reduce as much as it does on the stovetop or in the oven. Cover and cook on a low heat for 8 hours, or until the meat shreds apart with a fork.

I’m a born and bred Midwesterner, so corn is practically part of my heritage. “Corn should be knee high by the fourth of July,” my dad used to say out of the blue sometimes while driving alongside the cornfields of northern Illinois, and no summer picnic or barbecue was complete without me or my brother or sister being sent out to the patio to shuck a bag full of sweetcorn picked up from the tumbledown farm stand on the corner of Route 45 and 173. When I was back in the States last month, my friend and I went grocery shopping to pick up supplies for that night’s barbecue, and I insisted we get a few ears of sweetcorn. Back home in Ireland, though, where whole ears of corn tend to only come pre-shucked in shrink-wrapped packages (and that’s in the rare instance when you can even find them), I make do with frozen corn. In this cheddar corn chowder, though, it’s so full of flavor that I don’t think you’d even know the difference.

Now that the back to school drive is in full swing, it’s worth saying that these ham and cheese muffins not only work well served alongside soup, but are also a great alternative to the usual sandwich in a school lunchbox. The 15 minutes you spend making them one day will be repaid during the week if you stash them in the freezer. You can then grab as many as you need from the freezer the night before, pop them into a reusable plastic container and stow them in the fridge – they’ll be thawed by lunchtime the next day.

Cheddar Corn Chowder
adapted from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook by Ina Garten

Serves 6

For a gourmet touch, you could serve this soup with a dollop of Wolfgang Puck’s jalapeño crema on top instead of grated cheese. Instead of using a mix of cream and milk, you could just use 1 cup (240 ml) half and half in the US, or if you want to make it a little less fattening, just use 1 cup (240 ml) milk and no cream. Leave out the bacon and use vegetable stock to make a vegetarian version of this.

2 tablespoons olive oil
4 oz (110 g) bacon, chopped
2 large yellow onions, chopped
2 tablespoons (30 g) unsalted butter
1/4 cup (30 g) flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric
6 cups (1 1/2 liters) chicken stock
1 lb (450 g) baby potatoes, unpeeled and diced
1.5 lb (680 g) fresh or frozen corn kernels (about 5 ears of corn if using fresh)
1/2 cup (120 ml) cream
1/2 cup (120 ml) milk
4 oz (110 g) sharp/mature cheddar cheese, grated, plus extra to garnish
chopped chives, to garnish (optional)

Heat the olive oil in a large stockpot over a medium-high heat and cook the bacon for about 5 minutes, until crisp. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon and set aside to drain on a paper towel-lined plate. Reduce the heat to medium, add the onions and butter to the rendered fat and cook for 10 minutes, until the onions are translucent.

Stir in the flour, salt, pepper and turmeric and cook for 3 minutes. Add the chicken stock and potatoes, bring to a boil and simmer, uncovered, for 10 to 15 minutes, until the potatoes are tender. If using fresh corn, cut the kernels off the cob and blanch them for 3 minutes in boiling salted water, then drain. (If using frozen corn, you can skip this step.) Add the corn to the soup, then add the bacon back in. Add the cream, milk and cheddar. Cook for 5 more minutes, until the cheese has melted. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve hot with a little grated cheddar and chopped chives sprinkled on top.

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Savory Ham and Cheese Muffins

Makes 12 muffins

These muffins have some whole wheat flour to give them a little boost of wholegrain goodness, but you could use all plain flour (2 1/2 cups/300 g) instead. You can also adjust the seasonings to your children’s tastes, so feel free to leave out the paprika, black pepper, Worcestershire sauce, mustard or scallions, or use a mild cheddar instead of a mature one.

1 3/4 cup (200 g) plain flour
3/4 cup (100 g) whole wheat flour
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 cup (240 ml) milk
6 tablespoons (90 g) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1 egg
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 cups (200 g) grated mature cheddar
6 slices ham, chopped into small pieces
6 scallions, finely chopped

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Grease a muffin tin or line with silicone or paper cases.

Sift together the flours, baking powder, paprika, salt and a little black pepper in a large bowl.

In a separate bowl or measuring jug, whisk together the milk, melted butter, egg, Worcestershire and mustard. Add to the dry ingredients and stir until just combined (don’t overmix or the muffins will be tough). Stir in the grated cheese, ham and scallions, again taking care not to overmix.

Spoon the batter into the prepared muffin tin and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until the muffins are golden and a tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Set aside on a wire rack to cool. If freezing, allow them to cool completely first.