Proving a point

With a little determination, one can make almost anything edible. In this case, it's cawl, the traditional Welsh soup that is one of the favoured traditional dishes for St. David's Day. There are numerous recipes, so the first trick is to choose the one most agreeable to one's palate. This was my selection.

There are purists who would possibly be troubled that I'm choosing a recipe without mutton. First, finding mutton around here is an adventure in itself. Lamb is easy. Grown up dead sheep meat, not so much. Second, my appreciation of Welsh cuisine was permanently twisted by my paternal grandmother's cooking. She was given by nature a commanding personality and a conviction that anything one could actually recognise, when it came off the cooker, was underdone. That did nothing to improve culinary adventures like mutton. Second, this recipe has enough cholesterol without mutton.

Last year, I spent far too much time hunting up parsnips, which are hard to find hereabouts at this season. Even though parsnips give the soup an extra distinction, what with sick kitty preoccupations, I didn't have time. I used rutabaga instead, which turned out to be serendipitous.

My next change is to use Canadian bacon, which reduces the soup's fat content. This too is a sin. Traditional cawl is brought to a boil, then cooled until a thick layer of fat forms on the surface (see step 4). Canadian bacon lets you skip that step entirely, especially if your beef is lean. Also, after browning, I cook the lot in a slow cooker. No need for all that grease, and I can do without cooking over a coal fire.

This recipe works very well with the rutabaga, but anyone who can get local parsnip should use it. Sometime, I may try this recipe with turnip and parsnip, and no potatoes. That would make it authentically pre-Columbian, even palaeo. The recipe's weakness is preparation time, but using the slow cooker takes the curse off that.

Serve hot, with whole grain bread and Double Gloucester cheese. If you can get Welsh cheese, lucky you!

Iechyd a!

And now, a recipe

I may be repeating myself, but here is a bare-bones version of a New England country stand-by for the colder months, Yankee red flannel hash.

First, either take the afternoon off, or have a supply of leftovers in the marked [*] categories.

Ingredients (six- eight servings)

Two medium to large chopped onions. Haydn Pearson's recipe, on which this is loosely based, called for "authoritative" onions, which is about right. Native yellow onions are best.

Three large beets, or equivalent in smaller beets. Cheaters can use canned beets.

Four large boiled potatoes,* not bakers, just large bulk Maine spuds, or equivalent in smaller ones. With or without skin, your choice.

12 oz. of ground meat.* Leftover beef or pork roast put through a hand grinder is traditional, but it works with anything ground, including veggie burger. (Add a bit more meat for a meatier texture. Not too much, though: what makes this hash stand out is that it's chiefly vegetables, as a traditional hash should be.)

Black pepper

Butter or oil for skillet.

Wash the beets and boil until the skin rubs off easily, usually about 30 minutes. It's a nice touch between skins that slide off and beets the texture of shoe leather, so be careful. Good beets make or break this dish. Reserve a cup or two of the liquid.

If you don't have boiled potatoes on hand, prepare and boil (or steam) the potatoes whilst the beets are cooking.

When the beets and potatoes are ready, chop all the vegetables together in the instrument of your choice. Unless your instrument is large, it may take a couple of passes.

Heat the butter or oil in a large, heavy skillet. Be generous: this stuff sticks.

Put the chopped meat in the skillet, followed by the chopped vegetables. Mix thoroughly, until the predominant colour is beet red. A little white is acceptable, hence the name red flannel.

Cook over medium heat until the mixture is cooked through, adding pepper to taste. Watch out for scorching: a little adds to the flavour, but too much and the whole mixture will stick to the skillet. Use the reserved beet water, no more than 1/4 cup at a time, to maintain the texture.

Serve very hot. This is traditionally a one-dish meal, but use your imagination for accompaniments.

I'm not a huge beet fan, but there's something about the mixture of flavours in this hash that makes it (IMHO) the prince of comfort foods. It also lends itself, obviously, to communal preparation.

This seems to be a close relation to a Welsh hash called bryn teg.* Those who care to compare that recipe with the Welsh translation may wonder if there's some irony in the name. Give me the beets and onions: you can keep the parsnip and cabbage.

If you Google the name, you'll discover about ten thousand variants on the recipe. This one works best around here and lends itself very well to local fall produce.

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*How the author of this link made this name Irish is beyond me, but the recipe is representative.