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Created by Chef Thomas
Buttery mashed potato folded with Savoy cabbage and spring onions, a well of melting butter in the centre, the kind of bowl that makes an October evening feel like someone is paying attention.
October. The clocks have gone back and the kitchen window is dark by five. This is when colcannon makes sense. Not as a side dish for something grander, but as the thing itself: a bowl of buttery mash, streaked through with green cabbage and the mild sweetness of spring onions, a well pressed into the top and a generous piece of butter melting slowly into it.
It's Irish by origin, but it's been on British tables long enough to have earned its place by the fire. I don't know a simpler way to make someone feel looked after. Potatoes, cabbage, butter, milk. Nothing clever. Nothing that needs explaining. The kind of cooking where the shopping takes longer than the preparation, and the eating takes longer than both.
I make it on the sort of evening when the rain hasn't stopped since morning and nobody in the house has much to say. A bowl of colcannon in front of someone is a quiet way of saying: I noticed. Sit down. This is warm. The notebook entry from the last time I made it reads: "Colcannon. Tuesday. Raining. Enough." It was.
Get the best potatoes you can. Floury ones, Maris Piper or King Edward, the sort that fall apart when you look at them sternly. The cabbage wants to be a Savoy, because it softens beautifully without going limp, and it brings a sweetness that the tighter, paler cabbages don't have. Real butter. Whole milk. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, so treat the quantities as a starting point and adjust by feel and by taste. Your kitchen, your rules.
Quantity
1kg
peeled and cut into even chunks (Maris Piper or King Edward)
Quantity
half a head
roughly shredded
Quantity
1 bunch
finely sliced
Quantity
50g, plus extra for serving
Quantity
150ml
warmed
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| floury potatoespeeled and cut into even chunks (Maris Piper or King Edward) | 1kg |
| Savoy cabbageroughly shredded | half a head |
| spring onionsfinely sliced | 1 bunch |
| unsalted butter | 50g, plus extra for serving |
| whole milkwarmed | 150ml |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| white pepper | to taste |
Put the potatoes in a large pan of cold, well-salted water. Bring to the boil, then reduce to a steady simmer. Cook until a knife slides through them without resistance, roughly twenty minutes depending on size. The water should be properly salted, enough that you can taste it. Potatoes absorb salt during cooking in a way they never do after, so this is where the seasoning starts.
While the potatoes simmer, melt a good knob of the butter in a wide pan. Add the shredded cabbage and cook it over a medium heat, turning it through the butter for three or four minutes. You want it softened but still bright, with a bit of life left in it. Overcooked cabbage is a sad thing. Add the spring onions for the last minute or so, just until they've lost their raw edge and the kitchen smells green and sweet.
Drain the potatoes well and return them to the hot pan. Set it back over the lowest heat for a minute to drive off any excess water, shaking the pan now and then. Mash them thoroughly. A ricer gives the smoothest result, but a good old masher will do fine if you're committed. Add the remaining butter and the warm milk, beating until the mash is smooth and giving. It should be generous and loose, not stiff. You're not building a wall. You're making something that someone wants to sink a spoon into.
Fold the buttered cabbage and spring onions through the mash. Don't overwork it. You want streaks of green running through the white, not a uniform colour. Season with salt and white pepper. Taste it. Then taste it again. Spoon into warm bowls, make a well in the centre of each with the back of the spoon, and drop a generous piece of butter into it. Bring it to the table while the butter is still melting, pooling into a golden lake that the first spoonful runs through. That's the moment. That's the whole point.
1 serving (about 390g)
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