Dubliner Anna Haugh has been a professional chef for over 20 years, working with Gordon Ramsay before founding Myrtle Restaurant in London. In this extract from her debut cookbook, she explains how her mum’s home cooking inspires her recipes – see two below …
I was lucky to cook alongside my mother as soon as I could stand, and, from the first day I helped her to make dinner in our bright orange kitchen in Tallaght, Dublin, I loved it. Cooking is in my bones and sharing is in my nature. Everything about cooking suited me – and still does – from the wonderful aromas lifting from the pans and the sneaky tastes you can steal as you cook, to the fact that I am always at my best when keeping myself busy. My mother cooked everything from scratch for the four of us children, while my dad took me to street markets, butchers and fishmongers for the raw ingredients. We had homemade jam, with our own fruits that we grew out in the back garden. We ate local fish from fishmongers who my father would chinwag the day away with. Often, I’d be in the veg market with Dad buying pears and oranges by the crateful and potatoes in 25kg bags, before cheerily sitting in the back of the car as he dropped a few kilos off to his brothers and sisters around town.
I was raised in a house full of music. We children would wake up in the morning to records playing. Mum would do her rounds opening all the bedroom windows (she loved a good airing of the house), and, if the freezing cold didn’t wake you up, the music would. Sometimes it was Elkie Brooks, at others Van Morrison or Eric Clapton. On weekend mornings, we would shuffle downstairs in our PJs to the aroma of a Full Irish on the go. Mum would say, ‘Morning, lovey’, offer each of us a sausage on a fork and we would plop ourselves down as close to the telly as we were allowed to watch cartoons and eat our sausages, while waiting for Dad to get back from the baker with the bread. (As with most families, this wasn’t a totally idyllic scene: often, we kids would be arguing; sometimes, we would be aiming to land a sly pinch or kick on each other without our parents spotting it…)
My mother thought she was ‘just’ making food for us, but, looking back, I sense the warm embrace of feeling truly loved and nurtured. In a time when we think it’s pzazz and wacky bubblegum cupcakes that make a childhood special, it’s actually the intention behind what you give that makes family time glorious.
Out of that sunny orange kitchen flew mackerel coated with oats and fried, boxty potato pancakes, Dublin coddle filled with sausages and (yes) potatoes, Irish stew, lamb chops, a seemingly endless supply of fresh scones, and always apple tart cooked on a large dinner plate. But it wasn’t all plain sailing in the kitchen for Mam. She had to navigate a brief rebellious period that followed me staying with friends and eating what their parents cooked for them. I became (briefly) enamoured with their packet sauces and microwave meals; I spurned homegrown jam and wanted shop-bought. This was a fleeting misstep, quickly rectified once I tasted the foods I thought I wanted. My mother’s recipes are simple, but, as I realised, they are undoubtedly delicious.
For a long time, Irish cooking languished in the doldrums: overlooked both by us Irish – not as mindful of its heritage as we might have been – and by everyone else. Happily, in recent years, the mood couldn’t be more different. Irish food has everything to offer: wonderful ingredients with impeccable provenance and rich traditions, as well as a dynamic approach to modernity.
I opened Myrtle, my first restaurant, in Chelsea in London in 2019. The name was inspired by legendary Irish chef Myrtle Allen, founder of famous restaurant and food hub Ballymaloe House in Cork, which has done so much for Irish food. I take humble old Irish recipes and make lighter, more elegant modern dishes that remind people of childhood flavours. I am very proud that, both at my restaurant and in my new book, I’ve been able to adapt my mother’s classic recipes to show you what modern Irish cooking really is.
RECIPES BELOW:
PEA AND CHEDDAR BURGERS
I created these for a guest who I hadn’t realised was vegetarian. When I found out, I looked in my cupboards and pretty much all I had was a bag of frozen peas and some cheese! It didn’t look like a meal, but when I put it together it turned into a burger. These are completely delicious: not only satisfying in flavour, but the texture of the seeds, the spicy horseradish kick and the sweet peas all really complement each other.
Makes 4-6
Ingredients
150g canned butter beans (drained weight)
200g frozen peas, defrosted
1 egg
1 tablespoon poppy seeds
1 tablespoon sunflower seeds
2 heaped tablespoons self-raising flour
60g grated mature Cheddar cheese
vegetable oil
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
To serve
bread rolls (I used blaa rolls for the photo, traditional in Ireland)
horseradish sauce
sliced tomato
lettuce leaves
Method
1. Tip the drained butter beans into a large bowl and mash with the end of a rolling pin. Tip in the defrosted peas and do the same. Season the mixture.
2. Crack the egg into the mashed pea and bean mixture, add the poppy seeds and sunflower seeds and mix well.
3. Stir in the flour, season again with salt and pepper, then add the cheese and give the mixture a good final mix.
4. Heat up a dash of oil in a frying pan, then, using a tablespoon, spoon a big dollop of the bean mixture into the hot pan. Depending on how big you have formed them, this recipe should make 4–6 patties.
5. While the patties are cooking, build your burger bun. Cut the bread rolls in half and dollop on some horseradish sauce straight out of the jar. Pile on the sliced tomato and lettuce.
6. Keep checking the burgers, flipping, until golden brown on both sides. Use a spatula to transfer out of the pan straight into the bun, then serve.
LEMON, LEMONGRASS AND CARDAMOM POSSET
This is my idea of a perfect dessert, something I often cook for a dinner party, because I like to eat it (and I am fussy about desserts). It’s not only bursting with flavour, but it’s very convenient to make and serve. It’s zingy, sweet and sharp all at the same time: just what you want after a big meal. Recipes don’t get much easier than this. At the end, you have a luscious pudding that your friends and family will rave about. You can serve it with shortbread biscuits on the side, or lovely, sweet oat cakes (see page 220 of Cooking with Anna: Modern Home Cooking with Irish Heart). We don’t use mint enough in desserts, in my opinion. It’s probably because we chefs overdid it with the leaves twenty years ago! I use it a lot; I find it pairs brilliantly with so many other flavours.
Makes 6
Ingredients
For the lemon reduction
juice of 2 lemons
seeds of 4 cardamom pods, crushed
For the posset
200g caster sugar
500g double cream
2 lemongrass stalks, trimmed
To serve
finely grated lemon zest
small mint leaves
Oat cakes (see page 220 of Cooking with Anna), or shortbread biscuits
Method
1. First make the reduction: put the lemon juice in a saucepan and reduce by half. Once done, add the ground cardamom seeds, return to the boil, then leave to cool.
2. Add all the other ingredients for the posset, bruising the lemongrass stalks with the back of a heavy knife or a rolling pin to release their aroma, then bring to the boil.
3. Pass through a sieve, then pour into 6 glasses. Do not move the glasses for 10 minutes: this will allow the posset to set slightly, so when you do move them to the fridge, the mix doesn’t splash up the sides of the glasses.
4. Leave for as long as you can in the fridge, ideally overnight. Serve with lemon zest and ripped mint leaves on top and Oat cakes on the side.
Tricks of the trade
Don’t waste the zest of lemons when you only need their juice for a recipe. Instead, infuse the zest in a bottle of olive oil, or put it in a tub of granulated sugar. This citrus-scented sugar is a secret weapon which will gently flavour cakes and other bakes. Or, of course, just freeze the zest as it is for another time.
Extract and recipes from Cooking with Anna: Modern home cooking with Irish heart by Anna Haugh, will be published by Bloomsbury, €30 Hardback, on May 23.
Photography © Laura Edwards, @laurajayneedwards