Gourmet Cookbook Corned Beef Hash Ruth Reichel
C ount this column as a victory for the common man, a two fingers up at the powers that exist – an achievement alike to the scrapping of the proposed pasty revenue enhancement. Not everyone at the Guardian was convinced I should sink my teeth into the humble corned beefiness hash, merely hardly had I bulldozed the thought past them than, quite out of the blue, I received a plaintive tweet requesting that I "settle the mash v fried potatoes conflict one time and for all". Thank yous, Bjam! The cheque is in the postal service.
To be honest, I too was a late catechumen to the joys of this supremely satisfying dish. I can confidently say I didn't touch corned beef from the age of 13 until my mid-20s, a legacy of the teatime choices at school in my formative years. To say a corned beef roll was the lesser of the two evils tin simply exist understood when y'all know that the only other pick was tiffin meat, Spam's less glamorous cousin. I'd had my fill up for life – or and then I thought, until an ex introduced me, kicking and screaming, to the corned beefiness hash. It was love at first bite. But how on earth practice you work such magic on a tin of beef?
The beef
Staunch traditionalists may want to skip this paragraph and just presume that Prince's won out. But the affair is, though tinned corned beef is certainly the cheapest selection, it's not the best. OK, a hash is a good fashion to plow the stuff from edible to surprisingly delicious, just in a side-by-side exam with the British corned beef sold alongside other cured meats in a certain well-known supermarket, it didn't come off well. To be honest, it tasted rather fusty, of salt and fat rather than beef. (And if that's what you similar, endeavor, if possible, to bank check the sourcing before ownership: tinned corned beefiness has been linked with several food scandals in contempo years, from the horsemeat affair to the deforestation of the Amazon.)
Gary Rhodes goes 1 step further, and gives an excellent recipe for corned beefiness in his book The Consummate Rhodes Around U.k.. He writes that although "information technology's readily available for everyone, it's and so skilful to eat it homemade". As he says, it is surprisingly elementary: I buy a large slice of flank, soak it in alkali for three days, then simmer until tender. A pig's trotter in the same pan supplies the gelatine needed to bind the meat together once chopped, and I then leave information technology to set overnight earlier slicing into corned beef that is distinctly juicier and beefier than its commercially fabricated counterpart. Obviously this isn't feasible for a quick supper, but I'd highly recommend giving it a go if y'all have the time and resources. A alert: because information technology hasn't been compressed into a can, my bootleg stuff melts in the pan, lubricating the other ingredients with its jelly and leaving strands of succulent salty beef, which crisp up gratifyingly in the heat. I prefer this to the neat footling cubes suggested in recipes such as Delia Smith'south, but others may not.
The vegetables
Onions are a must – the but recipe I effort that omits them is the salt beef hash dish I've adapted from Dan Doherty'due south Duck and Waffle cookbook, which uses confit shallots instead. Delicious, but far also fancy for such a simple dish at home. I like the onions thinly sliced, every bit Rhodes and Delia Smith advise, rather than chopped, and so they don't get lost, and slightly caramelised to add sugariness, rather than merely softened.
Potatoes are the other mandatory ingredient. Smith clues me into the fact there are two corned beef hashes divided by a common language when she writes: "I love New York and, in particular, New York delis, where I always social club a hot pastrami sandwich on rye bread and my husband e'er orders corned beefiness hash with a fried egg. Although nosotros don't have the aforementioned type of corned beef here, our humble, small-scale tinned version makes a mean old hash." I realise that what she, Doherty and Rhodes are making is what Rhodes indeed describes as "an American corned beef hash", where all the ingredients are fried hard until crisp, a treatment that demands a robust, waxy potato such Doherty's new variety, or Smith's desiree or king edward.
Very lovely they are too, but the corned beefiness hash I'thou used to has a softer, wetter texture, and is meliorate made with a floury variety. I'd finish short of the mash suggested past Tom Norrington-Davies in his book Just Like Mother Used to Brand, unless you've got some you demand to dispose of. Adding information technology in chunks gives the hash a more interesting texture, especially if you leave the skin on, equally Smith suggests.
One of the best tips I get is from a lovely little book of recipes published in tribute to my dog trainer'due south nanna Sheila, which includes a facsimile of the recipe in question, "real Newcastle comfort food", written out by the lady herself. Instead of precooking the potatoes, every bit everyone else suggests, Sheila adds them to the pan raw, then simmers them in beef stock until tender. It is a brilliant thought – they absorb the stock to become deliciously rich and wonderfully bulky. Sheila, I accept my woolly hat off to you.
Norrington-Davies adds tinned tomatoes and peas to his dish, explaining that the latter was "a peculiarity of my father'south … the sweetness cuts through the saltiness of this meat very nicely". I like both additions, the tomatoes bringing a little fruity acerbity and the peas, as he says, balancing the savoury meat, but the tomatoes turn it into another dish entirely. The peas, though welcome, are certainly not necessary for a decent hash, but if, like me, yous'd similar to introduce a green element, I'd recommend chucking in a handful.
Seasoning and additions
Smith marinates her corned beef chunks in a piquant mixture of wholegrain mustard and Worcestershire sauce, both of which make an excellent counterpoint to the bland potato and fatty meat. Norrington-Davies'south Tabasco is another fine add-on if yous'd like a bear on of spice – I often slosh it on the side. Doherty serves his hash with gherkins (which again cut through the fattiness nicely), and he and Smith top their hashes with a fried egg, with Doherty adding his customary dollop of hollandaise.
At that place is no arguing with the fact that the latter two items improve almost everything they bear upon, but I'd save the hollandaise for a special corned beef hash occasion, and the egg for those moments when you're actually, really hungry. Strictly speaking, the dish needs neither, though the egg yolk does supply a certain pleasingly gooey richness. That said, Norrington-Davies and Doherty perspicaciously observe that corned beef hash makes an excellent brunch dish (well, Doherty writes that it's "the kind of food we have found people tend to look for around the 4am mark, only it as well works equally a mail-sleep cure"), which may exist the time when you lot starting time to cast around for the eggs and butter. Sheila serves hers with baked beans – a archetype presentation.
Cooking
Sheila, Doherty and Norrington-Davies all stop their dishes off in the oven or under the grill, giving them a deliciously well-baked, gilded top. This gives a lovely contrast, in Sheila'south case, with the juicy, tender potatoes beneath, and is well worth an extra v minutes' wait. Use this time to set up the ketchup.
(Serves ii)
Generous knob of butter
ane large onion, finely sliced
one large (nearly 275-300g) floury spud, such as maris piper, unpeeled just cut into 1cm chunks
350ml hot beefiness stock
200g corned beef, cut into 1cm chunks
100g peas (optional)
1 tbsp grain mustard (or to taste)
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce (or to taste)
two eggs (optional)
Cook the butter in a frying pan over a medium-high heat. Fry the onion, stirring oft, until golden, then add the potatoes. Stir to coat with butter, melt for a infinitesimal or so, then pour in the stock. Simmer for about fifteen-xx minutes until the potatoes are really tender and the stock has most evaporated, adding more hot water if necessary.
Rut the grill. Stir in the corned beef, peas, mustard and Worcestershire sauce. Turn up the rut and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 5 minutes, until they're heated through. Put the pan under the grill for nigh five minutes until the top is crisp and gilt.
Meanwhile, if yous're topping the dish with eggs, heat a small frying pan, add a little more butter and fry the eggs to your liking. Serve on summit of the hash.
Corned beef hash: all-time of British or the worst school-dinner stodge? Would yous defend tinned corned beefiness to the death, or are y'all tempted to make your own? And are there any other family unit favourites you'd like me to tackle?
Source: https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2015/feb/05/how-to-cook-perfect-corned-beef-hash-recipe
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