How do you make your version of Irish stew?

With St Patrick’s Day just behind us and following up on last week’s column, my thoughts have inevitably turned to that legendary dish — Irish stew. Whether you consider it a comfort food masterpiece or a murky pot of mystery, there’s no denying its place in Irish culinary history.

Now, if you ask any home cook how to make an Irish stew, you’ll get as many versions as there are rainy days in Cork. Some stick to tradition, others throw in whatever’s lingering in the vegetable drawer, and a surprising number will insist that beef is a perfectly acceptable substitute for lamb. Cue horrified gasps from professional chefs across the land—lamb is the rightful star of the show, and the mere thought of beef in an Irish stew could send some of them into an existential crisis. Regina Sexton, in her book ‘A Little History of Irish Food', explores the age-old debate: to carrot or not to carrot?

Modern cooks tend to lean heavily on the carrot inclusion, but back in the day, the dish was a rustic affair—cobbled together by peasants using lamb offcuts, potatoes, and onions. Regina, embracing both tradition and a bit of flair, opts for carrots, mutton stock, and maize dumplings in her recipe.

Meanwhile, Mary Kinsella, in ‘An Irish Farmhouse Cookbook’, is a strict no-carrot enforcer. Darina Allen, on the other hand, welcomes carrots with open arms and even dares to add a roux. Darina also sears her meat before adding any liquid, whereas Mary follows the ‘everything in, boil, and hope for the best’ method.

Personally, I’m on Team Sear—giving the meat a nice brown crust before adding onions. And since I’m no purist, I even sneak in a bit of stout. Yes, I hear the collective pearl-clutching, but trust me, it adds a depth of flavour that’s well worth the scandal.

Of course, when you dive into Irish cookbooks, you’ll see that every chef has their own take. JP McMahon in ‘The Irish Cookbook’, acknowledges that while lamb is the classic choice, history has shown that in times of scarcity, pork or any available meat would do just fine.

I once attended a talk in West Cork where storyteller Diarmuid O’Driscoll shared memories of summers on Bere Island, where his uncles’ idea of stew was simply spuds and mutton in water. No frills, no extras—just a few lonely potatoes bobbing in a pot like castaways.

But here’s my confession: I avoid stews altogether. Growing up, I had far too many of them, and my first attempt at cooking one was, let’s say, memorable.

At nine years old, I was put in charge of making a green bean stew with beef. Finding the broth uninspiring, I raided my mum’s spice rack, throwing in everything from cinnamon to curry powder. My mum, whose palate preferred the very plain, declared it inedible. My dad, on the other hand, powered through two bowls and even finished it off the next day (because, as he wisely proclaimed, “stew always tastes better the second day”).

From that day on, my mum left me detailed cooking instructions. But me? I learned that stew and I were simply not meant to be. However you like yours—carrots or no carrots, lamb or even (gasp) beef—just remember, it’s your kitchen, your rules.