Which is nice for her of course, but envy-inducing for one such as me.

Not that I am without garden yields. An unusually mild October has brought tomatoes, gherkins and french beans, along with a few precious apples from a young, but promising, tree. My homegrown spuds, however, were small in number and have long since been eaten. And yet, in my heart of potato hearts, I know that, somewhere out there, in the garden, spuds remain.

In the matter of digging potatoes, there are, as I see it, two fundamental laws:

1. You will invariably skewer at least one tuber with the garden fork.
2. In spite of one’s best efforts to locate every last spud, you will miss one or several. And you will know this because, the following spring, you will see the sprouts of your stray potatoes pushing up through the soil. These are known in the potato trade as volunteers.

It is as if to say that these potatoes volunteer their tuberous goodness without the need for deliberate planting, though, often as not, they are removed because the gardener has other plans for that patch of soil.

For my part, unearthing a volunteer can be a source of passing regret, especially if what was missed was a good, dinner-sized, spud. But, sometimes, I nurture that volunteer, so that one missed dinner fills several future dinner plates.

And so I put my harvest envy aside and look forward to the garden’s promise of good things to come.

Included below is a podcast from the fine folks at the Eden Project, featuring (among other things), an interview with my good self on all things spud. Though this dates from a few years back, it never got an official airing here.

In it, they consider the matter of boldly going to a new planet, and the set of plants that you might want to stash in your spaceship before you go. And yes, long before Matt Damon popularised the notion in The Martian, spuds have been on NASA’s radar as space-worthy starches. In more recent years, experiments conducted by the International Potato Centre in Peru in growing potatoes in simulated Martian conditions have shown positive results.

So, without further ado, here’s the episode (you’ll hear me from about 7 minutes in, on spuds, space and why an extra-long thumbnail can be a very useful thing).

I imagine the words of an intrepid reader echoing – with all the might of a Brian Blessed delivery – into the void that is the almost 6 year absence of posts hereabouts.

Alive, yes, and broadcasting once more into that void.

The truly observant reader may even have noted that, for a while there, The Daily Spud was not at all alive, in the internet sense. Subject to sabotage and more than a little deleted. A nasty business, conducted by faceless villains (and no, not even the anti-carbists would stoop this low).

After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, the site has returned, in what feels like a positively Lazarus-style resurrection. And while restoration of the Spud classics would be reason enough to mark the occasion, it also happens that it was on this day, thirteen years ago, that the Daily Spud began.

Now, a surly Teenage Spud might ask who even reads blogs anymore? Isn’t it all tick chat, snap tock and whats not these days? Certainly the internet landscape is much changed since the Spud began, though the only truth that really matters is that nobody will read it if you don’t write it – but if you write it, then perhaps they will come.

Meanwhile, a lone boiled spud sits in my fridge. Evidence that some things remain true in my world – in the matter of a pot of potatoes, it is always worth adding an extra. For the best spud may, in fact, be the leftover spud, for with that spud comes a myriad of future potato possibilities.

Last month, I – as a blog, that is – turned seven. Fancy that.

And while seven years might suggest, oh, a certain itchiness or an extended sojourn in Tibet, in spud years, I think of it as closer to 21, a coming of age of sorts. Though it’s been quiet on these pages of late, potatophile that I am, I have remained wired in to spud channels, and let me tell you that they have been abuzz. Not least among recent events – and coincident with my birthday last month – was the launch of a three year potato promotion campaign by Bord Bia here in Ireland and the Agriculture & Horticulture Development Board in the UK, sporting the tagline “Potatoes: More than a bit on the side.” It aims to encourage those who may be inclined to dismiss potatoes as old fashioned – fuddy duddy spuddies, as it were – to think again. I didn’t hesitate when asked to get involved.

Alas poor spud, we loved you well. Thing is, we seem not to love you quite as much now as we did way back when.

The situation is this: sales of fresh potatoes in these parts have been on a more or less downward trajectory for several years. Be it that they’re seen as a less than exciting, or less than convenient choice for dinner, or mistakenly perceived as fattening (when, they, personally, contain no fat to speak of) or because of general anti-carb sentiments, spuds have become a less frequent visitor to our tables. This is not news, exactly – it’s a story that has popped up regularly over the past couple of decades and, for that matter, regularly on this blog (prompting, among other things, my top ten guide to sprucing up your spuds).

Who loves ya, spud?

It’s a pity, of course, because the modest, workaday appearance of your average spud-on-the-street belies their superspud status – an endlessly versatile ingredient that doubles as a good source of vitamin C, potassium and fibre in a very neat nutritional package, and one that (you may just have noticed) grows well on our doorsteps. It’s, y’know, the kind of thing I’ve been saying for about seven years or so.

And if you’re still having trouble picturing spuds in anything other than a meat-and-two-veg suit or as the afterthought in the “and chips” scenario, then consider, say, the good-for-you salad below – bright and zesty and simple to make – or any number of others found in the Daily Spud repertoire, with further spudly ideas to be found at both www.potato.ie and www.lovepotatoes.co.uk.

Note: There is a print link embedded within this post, please visit this post to print it.

Warm Potato Salad w/ Chickpeas & Broccoli

This is how it starts: sliced potatoes, roasted with sunflower seeds

To quote an old confectionary tagline, I think of this salad as “full of Eastern Promise” – Middle Eastern to be precise, because olive oil, lemon juice, parsley, allspice and chickpeas bring my tastebuds right back into Lebanese territory and the joy that it was to visit that country back in 2011. It is, however, considerably better for you than said confectionary – the potatoes give it substance, while the supporting cast provide brightness, colour, and contrasting textures. My sister – a seasoned sampler of spud creations over the years – said she could eat one of these every day.

And if it seems like a lot of ingredients, it’s easily put together, with a lot of flexibility in its composition. Potato chunks are tossed in a little olive oil and quickly roasted in a hot oven along with some sunflower seeds, and then added to chickpeas, broccoli, feta, tomatoes and spring onions. It’s dressed with lemon juice, yoghurt and lots of parsley, along with some mustard and allspice. If you don’t have broccoli, use another crunchy green vegetable; if you don’t have feta, try goats cheese instead; no allspice? no sweat – leave it out or perhaps try another spice – some dried chilli flakes, perhaps.

As for the potatoes, use baby or new potatoes and slice each into two or three, or chop larger potatoes into bitesize chunks. The final textures will be different, depending on the relative flouriness (or dryness) of the potatoes, but should still – most importantly – taste good.

The Summary:

• Makes 4 servings & takes approx. 30-40 min to prep + cook

You’ll need:

• 1 tblsp olive oil
• 450-500g potatoes, washed
• 4-5 spring onions, finely sliced
• 2 tblsp lemon juice
• 4 tblsp natural yoghurt
• 1 tsp dijon mustard
• 1 tsp coarse salt, or to taste
• 0.5 tsp ground allspice
• black pepper to taste
• 200g broccoli, chopped into florets
• 1 x 400g tin chickpeas, drained
• 125g cherry tomatoes, quartered
• 50g feta cheese, crumbled
• handful chopped flat leaf parsley
• 50g sunflower seeds

You’ll also need:

• A large serving bowl and a large roasting tin

The Steps:

• Set your oven to 220C, add the olive oil to a large roasting tray and place in the oven to heat for about 6-8 minutes. You’ll also need to boil a kettle of water.
• Meanwhile, chop the potatoes (skin and all) into bitesize chunks or slices, about 1cm thick. Pat with kitchen towel and, once the oil is heated, toss the potatoes with the oil in the roasting tray and return to the oven.
• Add the sliced spring onions to a large serving bowl with the lemon juice. Stir in the yoghurt, mustard, salt, allspice and black pepper.
• Place the broccoli florets in a heatproof bowl. Cover with boiling water, allow to stand for a minute, then drain and rinse with cold water. Add the broccoli to the spring onions along with the drained chickpeas, quartered tomatoes, crumbled feta and chopped parsley. Toss to mix.
• When the potato chunks are tender and turning golden – about 15-20 minutes, depending on your oven – scatter the sunflower seeds over them and return to the oven for 3-4 minutes until toasted. Remove from the oven and toss with the rest of the ingredients. Taste, adding more salt or lemon juice if needed, and serve.

The Variations:

• You could add some black olives, say, or replace the broccoli with lightly steamed green beans; perhaps try using goats cheese, sundried tomatoes and basil instead of feta, cherry tomatoes and parsley; or replace the allspice with some smoked paprika and perhaps some chorizo to take it in a Spanish direction.

R☆5☆1

Let’s just say I know how they feel.

Daily Spud observers will have noticed an extended period of dormancy hereabouts but, whether it’s the warmth, or the season of new growth, a bout of spud activity this way comes, with me in the thick of it.

So here’s the thing: if you find yourself in the vicinity of Strokestown, Co. Roscommon this coming Sunday and fancy getting some dirt under your fingernails, as well as the chance to participate – by way of digging potato beds – in an ongoing project which explores the very particular place that the spud occupies in our culture, then you should make your way to the Irish Famine Museum at Strokestown Park, where Deirdre O’Mahony will lead participants in making an “X” shaped lazy-bed on the Church Lawn at Strokestown House.

This is just one of many initiatives being undertaken by Deirdre – artist, academic and lecturer at the Centre for Creative Arts, Galway-Mayo Institute of Technology – as part of her ongoing SPUD project, which has featured collaborations between farmers, artists and art agencies.

She envisions the creation of the lazy-beds at Strokestown as a collaborative, temporary famine memorial, an X-shaped bed planted with potatoes – blight resistant Sarpos, mind, not Famine-era Lumpers – creating a space in which to publicly think through present day aspects of the Famine’s legacy. The event on Sunday may also be an opportunity for attendees to see old-school sod-turning skills, as Deirdre tells me that some members of the Loy association of Ireland, who foster the tradition of using the loy – an old style, narrow spade with a single footrest – will be there.

Proceedings will start at 10 am on Sunday 29th. If you’d like to participate – and all are most welcome – then drop an email to the project curator Linda Shevlin (linda@lindashevlin.com).

You dig?

Those who have read this blog over the years will know that I have written about the Dave Langford/Dermot Carey heritage potato collection many times.

Their 225+ varieties of potato, including many rare, old varieties of Irish interest which, for many years, they have displayed and spoken about at events countrywide, have made for a wonderful educational resource, a living history and an important part of our food heritage.

This past weekend I learned of an incredibly severe blow to the collection, a too-harsh lesson in the fragility of preserving old and rare varieties and of not better supporting the people who do that important work for us. While all is not entirely lost, there is much that is, and a challenge has been set for those who really believe that such things are worth preserving.

For the past six years, mid-March has been writ large in my calendar. Not, as you might imagine, because of St. Patrick’s Day in all of its greenery but rather, because it is at or around this time of year that the Organic Centre in Rossinver, Co. Leitrim, hosts its annual Potato Day.

It’s an event presided over by Hans Wieland, and a time for people to stock up on seeds for the coming season, to get advice from expert growers, and to hear talks on subjects of interest to the gardener of potatoes, be it on the importance of soil (the subject of an excellent presentation given this year by Trevor Sargent) or on GM or blight resistant spuds, or even a spin through the latest in spud developments from around the world (which was my contribution to this year’s event).

And ever-present, every year, has been a diverse display of potatoes – the rare, old and unusual spud collection that has been amassed, maintained and nurtured over a great many years by Dave Langford, and ably assisted in that task for the past 8 or 9 years by master vegetable grower Dermot Carey.

From my first Potato Day excursion in 2009:
what was to become the familiar sight of varieties from the Langford/Carey collection on display

Samples from their collection of 225+ varieties are a sight that will be familiar to anyone who has attended potato events in this country over the past 7 or 8 years. It never fails to generate interest among the attendees, who reminisce about spuds past, discuss spuds present and may even enquire about spuds future. And often, when someone would express a particular interest in a particular spud, Dave might pass them a precious seed or two. It was just such an encounter between Dave and Michael McKillop of Glens of Antrim Potatoes which ultimately lead to the commercial revival of the Lumper potato (whatever your opinions about that may be).

Dave Langford giving a spud talk at Sonairte Potato Day in 2013

And yet, with the maintenance of the collection having always been done on a voluntary basis by Dave and Dermot – growing it year on year and storing tubers over winter – the position of this precious resource has been precarious, more than we in the know might have cared to admit. Despite awards in 2010 from Euro-toques and again in 2014 from the Irish Food Writers’ Guild, which acknowledged the importance of the work done by Dave and Dermot in preserving so many heritage varieties of potato, and despite the wish expressed in giving those awards that a permanent home might be found for a collection of such significance, it is Dave’s back garden that has remained the most permanent home that the collection has ever had.

Other locations have, for various reasons, been more transient, and though there was great optimism expressed last year when it appeared that the collection might find a new permanent home at Richard Corrigan’s Virginia Lodge in Cavan, I understand that didn’t, in the end, pan out. The collection did, however, make a return to Lissadell estate in Sligo last year – which reopened to the fee paying public after many years of legal wranglings over rights of way – with about 160 varieties planted there.

A selection of the varieties grown at Lissadell when I visited in 2009;
after an absence of a few years, many were planted there again last year

And so, to this year’s Potato Day, where I arrived to find a Dave and a Dermot but, shockingly, nary a heritage spud between them. Dave has been unwell, having suffered a heart attack a few months ago, and the seeds which he had stored in a shed at home were attacked by rats, who shredded the lot (apart, Dave notes, from a couple of Lumpers, so make of that what you will).

Though Dave still managed to be his relentlessly positive, enthusiastic self, the experience can have been nothing short of devastating. The loss included several varieties bred by Dave himself – and anyone who has ever tried their hand at breeding potatoes will know how many years that takes, and what a gut wrenching loss that would be. To add insult to injury, when Dave and Dermot went to check for tubers at the planting sites in Lissadell, they were not to be found. More rats at work perhaps, these of a two-legged variety.

Dave’s All Blue Potato – now, perhaps, all gone

As he related the tale of woe, I listened to Dave – sad and disbelieving.

Just like that, it seemed, there was the collection, a life’s work, gone.

Or perhaps not quite.

Reaching for the sky:
potatoes from the heritage collection as grown on a Dublin rooftop in 2013 by the Dublin Urban Farm

When I got home, I contacted Pádraic Óg Gallagher of Gallagher’s Boxty House, who had, two years ago, instigated the growing of potatoes from the collection as part of the Dublin Urban Farm project. Yes, he said, they have around 120 varieties at the new home for the Dublin Urban Farm at Belvedere College. That represents perhaps 50% of the collection that was. All may not be entirely lost, then, but remains in an even more fragile state than ever.

If there’s one thing I have learned about spuds over the past 6+ years, is that there’s always some new spud thing to learn.

Be it natural curiosity, or because – slowly and imperceptibly over time – I have become attuned to spud wavelengths, or because others, knowing my predilection for all things potato, pass snippets my way, there is, in my head, a steady accumulation of spud stuff. The recent few months – though they may have been largely quiet on the blog front – have been no different.

There was the friend from Mayo who, a while back, asked me to give him a call, if I were not “too busy scratting spuds.” When I rang later, he explained that in the ’70s – and, I’d imagine for many years before that – when farm workers from the West of Ireland would travel to England for seasonal work, locals would say that they were “scratting spuds in Scunthorpe.” Scratting meant digging potatoes by hand – not to be confused with apple scratting, which is the process of grinding apples up before fermentation into cider – but technology and the times we live in mean that “scratting spuds” is a phrase – and an activity – that has fallen into disuse.

Scratting spuds:
WW2 evacuees on a farm in Pembrokeshire, digging potatoes the old-fashioned way, circa 1940
(public domain image from wikimedia commons)

On the other hand, modern times have brought us new ways, not just of harvesting, but of growing potatoes and of bending them to breeders’ wills. An article in the Observer last October told of a Dutch project – winner of an award under the USAID Grand Challenges for Development initiative – which is investigating the possibility of using salt-water to grow potatoes (and other crops).

Given the huge energy and expense expended worldwide on desalination, the work has, the article states, the potential to be “a real game changer.” Dr. David Shaw of the Sárvári Research Trust in Wales, meanwhile, points to the fact that they conducted trials in 2011/2012 looking at the differences between potatoes grown using diluted seawater and tap water, with indications that the use of seawater had a positive effect on both yield and late blight control, but it’s research that he says has been underfunded and undervalued too.

Salt & Spuds: a combination no longer limited to cooking – as here, with salt baked potatoes; these days, salt can be applied to the growing of spuds too

I also read with interest a few weeks later an article in the New York Times on the latest GM spud developments, with the J.R. Simplot Company introducing Innate, a potato better adapted to the rigours of mass production and processing, designed, as it is, to resist bruising and to reduce the development of acrylamide – a suspected carcinogen – during frying (a second generation of the Innate potato, we are now told, adds late blight resistance). How the potato will fare remains to be seen – McDonald’s, by all accounts, are not that keen – but there’s no doubt that it is a thoroughly modern potato adapted for the problems of a thoroughly modern world.

Modern research also, of course, endeavours to tell us how best to eat our spuds (or if, according to some, we should eat them at all). Dr. Michael Mosley, for example – he of BBC’s ‘Trust Me I’m a Doctor’ and author of The Fast Diet – would maintain that potatoes are better eaten with butter than without. When he said as much during an interview on Marian Finucane’s RTE radio show last year, I suspect that an entire population – Marian included – mouthed a little ‘hurrah’ in response.

Butter: a spud’s best mate

The basis for the assertion, by the way, was that the addition of fat slows the absorption into the bloodstream of the sugars that result from the digestion of the starch in a potato, so the addition of butter results in less of a spike in blood sugar levels. Meanwhile, a study, widely reported on this week, indicates that dietary guidelines on fat issued back in the ’80s, effectively demonising butter and dairy, were misguided and “lacked any solid trial evidence.” I, in my unscientific way, would maintain that potatoes and butter – when not consumed to excess, of course – have always been good for you. I think anyone who has ever spent time scratting spuds would agree.

Coddle, that is. Rare ould Dublin coddle. And the judges in question – myself, food and wine writer Leslie Williams and Sunday Business Post editor Gillian Nelis – had been called upon to adjudicate at what was surely a rare ould Dublin event: a Coddle Cook Off.

For those who don’t yet know enough about the dish to either love or hate it, coddle is a one-pot, throw-it-together wonder. Sausages, rashers, onions and spuds, left to simmer together on the stove for hours of a Saturday evening, becoming post-pub grub for the household’s imbibers. Perhaps it’s the idea – and the anaemic look – of boiled sausages that puts people off coddle. Why boil when you can sear and sizzle, eh? And yet, as the entries in last week’s coddle competition in Temple Bar showed, a brothy boiled sausage is no bad thing.

The competition – which raised €1000 for Epilepsy Ireland – was the brainchild of Kevin O’Toole of Chameleon and Pádraic Óg Gallagher of Gallagher’s Boxty House, and was held in conjunction with the inaugural Temple Bar Taste Trail – where punters could sample bites from any one of 10 Temple Bar restaurants – during the Temple Bar TradFest.

All’s jovial with the Coddle Cook Off Chefs before competition begins

There’s no use messin’ with coddle – coddle is coddle

The coddle contenders – prepared by chefs from 9 different Temple Bar establishments – ranged from the utterly traditional to the ultra modern: it was variously deconstructed, reconstructed, and featured a great many more pig parts than usual. In an unexpected blast from Ireland’s culinary past, John Howard – he of legendary Dublin restaurant Le Coq Hardi, frequented by the great and, some would say, not so good back in the day – was drafted in by the Oliver St. John Gogarty team: “There’s no use messin’ with coddle,” he told us judges as we sampled his classic rendition, “coddle is coddle” (which, he also told us, means no carrots, if you please). Seemed clear that there was no use messin’ with John Howard either.

A selection of the coddle competitors:
Top left: The Boxty House pigged out with their version, starting with stock made from pigs head and featuring black pudding sausages, Lumper potatoes and Stonewell cider; Top right: The carefully constructed winning entry from The Larder topped off a flavourful broth with crispy pigs ears; Bottom right: Oliver St. John Gogarty‘s coddle was – apart from a few non-traditional bits of carrot – a classic rendition, using some of Jane Russell’s sausages and a puff pastry lid; Bottom left: The Chameleon‘s version may have looked fairly traditional, but was topped with kimchi and came with a pork bun on the side;

In the end, it was the prettily plated and generally cheffed up version of the dish presented by The Larder – complete with its topping of crispy pigs ears – that claimed the inaugural Masters of Coddle cup. But what was perhaps surprising – but perhaps not, to the coddle lovers out there – was that the traditional entries more than held their own, proving that, with good sausages and bacon, and a few good spuds, coddle is a winner every time.

To see how traditional coddle is made, watch Pádraic Óg Gallagher in action below.

You really will have to excuse the tumbleweed that has been rolling around this site for nigh on several months now. I can only plead, in my defence, that there have been assorted distractions of the non-potato kind.

The important thing is, I’m back. And I’m exercised. About cabbage.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes and ships and sealing-wax
Of cabbages and kings”

From Lewis Carroll’s ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’, in Through the Looking-Glass

Little did Lewis Carroll know when he penned those words how on-trend he would be years – nay centuries – later, with his cabbage reference. Yes, as 2015 has gotten underway, with its usual deluge of articles, tweets and posts about trends, food and otherwise, I read with a certain degree of bemusement in this article in the U.K. Independent that – and sorry about this kale – cabbage is the new rising star. Yup, cabbage. There is, of course, nothing wrong with cabbage, and a lot to like (except, perhaps, when you have an excess to deal with). So good on the chefs who are, we are told, now doing all sorts of things with cabbage. It’s versatile and available, cheap and green. Is and was. Before it ever took a stroll down the culinary catwalks.

cabbage – enjoying a bit of close attention

A lot of the attention has come, it seems, as a result of the explosion in popularity of kimchi – an umbrella term for Korean fermented vegetables, but most commonly made with cabbage – and which itself is a part of the renewal of interest in all kinds of fermentation techniques (for which, take a bow, fermentation revivalist Sandor Katz).

So far so what. Hurrah for the often overcooked, underappreciated cabbage. What irked, really, was the battle of the brassicas slant, that sense that, if cabbage is in, then ‘fashionable kale’ is out (along, it is suggested, with other, more expensive, health food fads, like kelp). In Waitrose, we hear, kale is being given a run for its money by Italian cavolo nero – which translates as black cabbage – with sales of the latter up massively. So, y’know, go team cabbage – might it indeed be the ‘must-cook veg of 2015’? Except, isn’t cavolo nero the vegetable also known as Tuscan kale, and which has – if its listing on a site called discoverkale.co.uk is anything to go by – ridden in on the kale wave. Now placed in the cabbage camp, it seems that Tuscan kale has become Tuscan turncoat.

It all feels like so much nonsense – about as nonsensical as much of what goes on in Alice’s Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. Can’t we have our cabbage and our kale and eat them both? (and maybe a bit of kelp, or other seaweeds, and sure throw in a few spuds while we’re at it). While some food fashions are best forgotten, these are foods worth remembering, in fashion or no.

Colcannon

Given my particular area of interest, I could hardly have talked about cabbage and kale without at least mentioning colcannon. It’s a topic which I have – unsurprisingly – covered before, and when I posted my take on the classic Irish dish, it was a version made with that terribly trendy kale. But nowadays you could switch and use cabbage. Or stick to your kale guns. Or make peace and use both.