Homemade Irish Soda Bread with Raisins

I'm not a big drinker, or a big fan of fratastic crowds, so when it comes to St. Patty's Day, the thing I most look forward to isn't all the block parties, or the cry for "Carbombs!" at the bar. Call me an old soul (or Debbie McDowner), but I would much rather indulge in a thick slice of warm Irish Soda Bread, inordinately slathered with sweet butter. I may even go nuts and top off my coffee with a little Homemade Irish Cream. Partayyyy. (*Before you start booing me, if you are into downing some pints and rubbing up against a leprechaun or two, don't worry, I've still got you covered. Scroll to the bottom to see the list of festivities going on in SF).

OK, back to my wholesome soda bread. I've learned that the sweet scone-like, raisin-studded soda bread I love so much is very much an Americanized version of the real thing. As Irish chef Rory O'Connell of the Ballymaloe Cookery School in Cork, Ireland reveals in this great soda bread guide in Epicurious, real traditional Irish soda bread is simply basic table bread made with just flour (whole-meal flour for the common loaf, white flour for special occasions), bread soda, buttermilk, and salt.

No butter in the dough, raisins only as a luxury, and caraway seeds optional.

Makes sense, as this quick bread grew in popularity in the 1800s in Ireland out of necessity. Brown soda bread -- made with soft wheat (the only suitable flour that can grow in Ireland's climate), baking soda (cheap and non-perishable), and buttermilk (accessible by-product of freshly churned butter) -- was an affordable bread that the average household could bake in their own homes without an oven. The formed loaf could simply be baked in a cast iron pot, called a bastible, placed over a fire. The bastible had a lid on it with a curved edge so that you could place hot coals on top as well.

I decided embrace my homebody tendencies and do some baking to celebrate this St. Patrick's Day. Using this classic Irish-American recipe for Irish Soda Bread with Raisins and Caraway, I got to work.

Irish Soda Bread Ingredients

I adjusted the recipe to include half all purpose flour, and half whole wheat pastry flour (which I believe is similar to the soft wheat flour that was originally used in the traditional Irish soda bread). I also cut down the amount of sugar and raisins in it, and substituted the caraway seeds for fennel seeds (since that's what I had on hand, and figured they were a close-enough substitution). If you don't like the licorice-y/anise-y flavor of caraway or fennel, feel free to omit. I only use two tablespoons in my recipe, so the flavor is subtle.

Making Soda Bread

I whisked together my dry ingredients first. Then, cut in the butter until the mixture was the consistency of corn meal. Then, I added the buttermilk. The lactic acid in buttermilk reacts with the base of the baking soda to provide the leavening for this quick bread (rather than yeast). Note: Unlike the picture shown above, where I mixed in the raisins and fennel seeds after adding the buttermilk, next time I would actually add them prior to the wet ingredients so that they are well dispersed throughout the dough.

When you're mixing the dough together, mix just until everything is incorporated. Be careful to not over mix (the dough should not be kneaded). Like the secret to a good, fluffy, light biscuit or scone, the trick is to handle the dough as little as possible.

Into the oven you go

When the dough has come together, turn it into your buttered cast iron skillet or Dutch oven, and slash a cross into the top. Old folklores say that the cross cut on the top of Irish Soda Bread is to ward off evil and "let the devil out" while it's baking, or let the fairies out (for a less fire and brimstone version). Practically though, slashing the top of the bread allows the heat to penetrate the thickest part of the loaf, helps the bread rise better, and also serves as a guideline for breaking the bread evenly once it's done.

*****

St. Patty's Day Trivia:

• Saint Patrick, the man, the saint, the slayer of snakes -- St. Patrick is the patron saint and national apostle of Ireland who is credited with bringing Christianity to Ireland. He is said to have "driven the snakes" from Ireland. Snakes referred to the serpent symbolism of the Druids, whose pagan rites were abolished by the big P.
• Why Shamrocks -- Legend has it that Saint Patrick used the three-leaved clover to explain the Holy Trinity to the pagan Irish.
• Soda Bread not really Irish -- Soda bread was actually invented by the American Indians, who used pearl ash (made from potash, which was made from lye, which was made from hardwood ashes).

St. Patrick's Day Festivities:

• Farley's Coffee (Potrero) -- Live bagpipes, music, and dancing
• Safe & Sober Program -- Free cab rides from 3 pm to 3 am
• St. Patrick's Day Block Party 2011 (Financial District)
• Aventine's St. Patrick's Day Alley Block Party (Financial District)
• O'Reilly's St. Patrick's Day Block Party (North Beach)

Places in the Bay Area to buy Irish Soda Bread:

John Campbell's Irish Bakery
5625 Geary Blvd
(between 20th Ave & 21st Ave)
San Francisco, CA 94121
Neighborhood: Outer Richmond
(415) 387-1536

Arizmendi Bakery
1331 9th Ave
(between Irving St & Judah St)
San Francisco, CA 94122
Neighborhood: Inner Sunset
(415) 566-3117

La Farine Bakery
6323 College Ave
(at 63rd St)
Oakland, CA 94618
Neighborhoods: North Oakland, Rockridge
(510) 654-0338

3411 Fruitvale Ave
(between Macarthur Blvd & Sloan St)
Oakland, CA 94602
(510) 531-7750

4094 Piedmont Ave
(between Glen Ave & 41st St)
Oakland, CA 94611
(510) 420-1777

1820 Solano Ave
(at Colusa Ave)
Berkeley, CA 94707
Neighborhoods: East Solano Ave, North Berkeley
(510) 528-2208

Is your corned beef ready for simmering yet? Your potatoes set to be peeled and boiled, your cabbage simmered, your soda bread stirred up? It's too bad that no one thinks of smoked salmon and brown bread, thick bacon and Irish cheddar, champ and colcannon (to name but a few of the real delights of the Emerald Isle's table) when St. Patrick's Day comes around. Here in the States, it's corned beef and cabbage, corned beef and cabbage, to say nothing of the green beer and Irish coffees. (Alas, the Shamrock Shake, that minty McDonald's invention, is as rare as a four-leaf clover these days.)

As for the whiskey, well, an Irish blend would be only appropriate. You could follow the lead of the venerable Buena Vista, who serves 2000 Irish coffees a day, all spiked with Tullamore Dew. (After some 50 years using its own private label Irish whiskey, the bar switched to Tullamore in 2006.) Jameson's and Bushmills are the big boys, of course, and the players in a (somewhat spurious, given that both brands are now owned by enormous multinationals) Catholic vs. Protestant loyalty debate. Meanwhile, smaller brands like Red Breast, Power's, Midleton, Black Bush, Killbeggan, and The Tyrconnell all have their admirers. Care to compare? The Liberties in the Mission will be offering special tasting flights of some of the rarer Irish whiskeys all week long. There's also live music throughout the evening of the 17th, and a full menu with everything from smoked salmon on potato cakes to cross-cultural samosas stuffed with black pudding, bacon, and curried potatoes.

Now, I like my whiskey for sipping, for sure, but when you need to make a whole tableful of people happy with just one glass, nothing beats this Chocolate Whiskey Cake. Serving it at a recent birthday potluck, the question everyone asked after one bite was, "How much whiskey is in this??" Only a cup's worth for the entire generously-sized cake, but a liberal sprinkling after baking gives a potent warmth to every forkful.

The original inspiration came from food writer Melissa Clark's interpretation of a recipe in Maida Heatter's Book of Great Chocolate Desserts, first published in 1980. Clark's recipe ups the amount of whiskey (and salt) and boosts the chocolate quality. Remembering with longing the fantastic Chocolate Whiskey Cake served at Mrs. London's Bakeshop in Saratoga Springs, where my family would go every summer to follow the horseracing and bask in fine dining, I added in whiskey-soaked golden raisins, swapped out the espresso powder for straight-up strong coffee and cut back on both the salt and sugar, since I like my chocolate bittersweet.

Single-handedly, this cake could kick-start a Bundt-pan revival. Dense, rich, and moist, it's a cake for those who still like their cakes cake-like in texture, rather than in molten puddles or like wet bricks of fudge or cloying black holes of collapsed ganache. (If I want nothing but sheer chocolate and butterfat, I'll eat a truffle, thanks.) There's no need for fussy icings or fillings, and the sturdy shape makes transporting it a breeze, even on Muni. (Trust me, I've done it, even on the hill-twisting 67-Bernal Heights, not to mention the sardine-jammed 14-Mission.) If you'd really like to add a little gold to this pot, serve with with a cloud of whipped cream flavored with a wee bit of powdered sugar and another spoonful of whiskey.

Chocolate Whiskey Cake
Don't be tempted to use up that old yellow box of chalky supermarket baking chocolate on this cake. You're already making the investment in butter and whiskey; go all the way and buy a good-quality, name-brand chocolate. I used Ghirardelli, but local favorites Tcho and Guittard would work well, too. Same goes for the cocoa powder; skip the Hershey's and try the much more flavorful cocoas made by Ghirardelli, Scharffenberger, Valrhona, or Droste. And while Irish whiskey is the most appropriate for St. Patty's Day, all-American bourbon or rye is quite tasty, too.

Serves: 10 to 12

Ingredients:
1 cup Irish whiskey, plus more for sprinkling
1 cup golden raisins
5 ounces good-quality unsweetened chocolate
1 cup really strong coffee
2 1/2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks, 8 oz) unsalted butter, softened, more for greasing pan
1 3/4 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 cups all-purpose flour, more for dusting pan

Confectioners’ sugar, for garnish

Preparation:
1. In a medium bowl, pour whiskey over raisins and set aside.

2. Grease and flour a 10-cup-capacity Bundt pan. Preheat oven to 325°F.

3. In a double boiler over simmering water, melt chocolate. Remove from heat and let cool.

4. In a measuring cup, dissolve cocoa powder and salt in hot coffee, then add to whiskey-raisin mixture. Let cool.

5. In a large bowl, cream 1 cup butter until fluffy. Add sugar and beat until well combined. Beat in the eggs one at a time, beating well between each addition. Beat in the vanilla extract, baking soda, and melted chocolate, scraping down sides of bowl with a rubber spatula.

6. Beat in a third of the whiskey mixture. When liquid is absorbed, fold in 1 cup flour. Repeat with a third of whiskey mixture, followed by remaining cup of flour. Add the last of the whiskey mixture, folding gently just until well mixed. Scrape batter into prepared pan. Bake until a cake tester inserted into center of cake comes out clean, about 1 hour 10 minutes.

7. Transfer cake to a rack. Unmold after 15 minutes. If you really want a potent whiskey flavor, sprinkle warm cake with about 2 tablespoons’ more whiskey. Let cool, then sift over confectioners’ sugar before serving.

The most important meal of the day is too often ignored, lost amidst the grooming and rushing, a mere afterthought to caffeine. It takes hungry, curious children to remind us to slow down (acorn pancakes!) or friends visiting from afar to convince us to unearth our skillets.

As someone who grew up slurping big bowls of soup before heading off to school, I still haven't learned how to enjoy cold cereal or dry toast. Give me some leftover rice and a runny fried egg, though, and I'm ready for anything that Monday wants to throw at me.

You'd think that in the Bay Area, we'd be able to find breakfasts from around the world more easily: a plate of Turkish cheese and olives with some sourdough bread, spoonfuls of soft pongal or tender idli, even a bowl of pho or mohinga before 11 am. I imagine, though, that in the quiet of our kitchens, on all sides of the Bay, folks are preparing breakfast far outside the confines of frosted flakes. It's our most private meal, the one most dependent on comfort, habit and home.

The Irish and Filipinos, hearty eaters, have no problems sharing their breakfasts with a paying public. Nor do the Chinese, whether you're in the mood for a soothing bowl of jook or a parade of dim sum.

To get you thinking about morning meals....

Jon Huck's photographic study of breakfast is elegant and inspirational (via Mister Starfish).

And for a quick tour around the world, you can taste...

BLACK PUDDING

Not for the faint of heart, a traditional Irish breakfast covers all the important categories of meat: sausage, bacon and egg. Don't forget the Batchelors beans, a tomato, and both black and white pudding. Brew lots of strong Irish tea to wash it all down.

Durty Nelly's
2328 Irving Street
San Francisco, CA 94122
(415) 664-2555

Blarney Stone
5625 Geary Blvd
San Francisco, CA, 94121
(415) 386-9914

GARLIC FRIED RICE

Although the range of Pinoy breakfast is impressive, the default in Daly City has long been a mound of fried garlic-flecked rice served alongside Spanish-style longaniza sausage and a generous pile of sweet tocino, Southeast Asia's answer to bacon. Like the Irish, Filipinos like to round out their meal with a fried egg and a bright spot of tomato.

RSM Oriental Food Mart
1500 Sycamore Ave
Hercules, CA 94547

Sinugba
2055 Gellert Blvd, #5
Daly City, CA 94015
(650) 878-3591

Mercury Appetizer Bar
1434 Lombard Street
San Francisco, CA 94123
(415) 922-1434

JOOK

Hot and filling, easy to make and even easier to eat, this soup appears in pretty much every Asian country. Even its translation has nuances of flavor: congee, cream of rice soup, rice porridge, rice gruel. It's an innocent base upon which anything can be built. My own favorites are thinly slices of fish and freshly shucked clams. My husband's family serves it with pickles. My mom makes it with duck bones, while every year, during the last week of November, there's a flood of turkey versions across the country. Fortunately, jook restaurants abound, and their menus are long. Be sure to order a plate of you tiao "fried ghosts" crullers on the side.

Gum Kuo Restaurant
388 9th St
Oakland, CA 94607
(510) 268-1288

Hing Lung
674 Broadway
San Francisco, CA 94133
(415) 398-8838

Joy Luck Place
88 E 4th Ave
San Mateo, CA 94401
(650) 343-6988