Bubble and squeak was always going to end up here, it being one of my favorite dishes and also an excellent non-scone recipe for the UK/Ireland section. However, I did not expect it to appear so soon. The original plan was to have most, if not all, regions in possession of at least one recipe before I moved to double representation, but as I have been learning, very little of this blog adventure has been going according to plan. The Husband was recently in need of simple, tasty food, and we had half a head of cabbage about to go bad. So here we are.
Bubble and squeak is, at its core, a recipe for the using up of leftovers, specifically those from a traditional English roast dinner. Similar dishes abound throughout Europe, but the two that matter for the purposes of this post are colcannon, from Ireland, and — I kid you not — rumbledethumps, from Scotland. (RUMBLEDETHUMPS! Is that not just the most delightful thing ever? And now you know why I adore Scotland so.) There are a few minor differences (colcannon substitutes kale for cabbage, and rumbledethumps(!) involves cheese), but all three dishes are basically just potatoes, a leafy green, and copious amounts of sweet, sweet butter. For the etymology nerds out there, bubble and squeak takes its name from the sound that the food makes while cooking. Colcannon is derived from cole, meaning cabbage; rumbledethumps comes from rumbled, for food that has been mashed or scrambled, and thumps may refer to the fact that, originally, this dish was made by bashing the daylights out of the potatoes and cabbage with a large pestle.
I first discovered bubble and squeak in a cookbook I bought ages ago, which was purchased mostly for the introductory sections (discussions various grains, oils, beans, etc., with lots of pretty pictures). I can't remember a single other recipe from said cookbook, and it was given away during the Great Purge of 2009, but because it introduced me to bubble and squeak, I will always think fondly upon it. Godspeed, forgotten cookbook, wherever you are.
My recipe is slightly different from some of the more traditional ones I've uncovered, but its heart is in the right place. It's a very simple recipe, with few ingredients; if you find yourself with leftover mashed potatoes and greens (or any vegetable, really), this should come together in a flash. This means you can also prepare the potatoes and/or the vegetables ahead of time, or even cook the entire dish the day before; it reheats wonderfully. Also, as a side note, one of my all-time favorite cooking shows, Two Fat Ladies, insists that you must use lard or drippings in this dish, as they are the only fats that can heat up enough. This is a load of old rubbish. While I'm sure that bacon fat is wonderful stuff, butter does just fine.
Get yourself a couple of medium-sized potatoes; I prefer russets, but any starchy potato will do nicely. Since I think the skin is the best part of a potato, I give them a good scrub and then chop them into one-inch chunks. (Peeling the potatoes is fine, as is leaving them whole — I just find that chopping them up speeds up the cooking process.) Plop them in a large pot with some well-salted water and boil under tender.
While the potatoes are boiling, thinly slice two leeks and a half a cabbage. Melt a good dollop of butter in an oven-safe pan (I use my trusty 10 1/4" cast iron skillet) over medium heat, and saute the leeks until translucent (a finely-diced clove or two of garlic wouldn't go amiss here, either). Add the cabbage, cover, and cook until tender.
Once the potatoes are done, drain, add a slosh of milk (or cream, if you are devilish) and a good knob of butter, then mash. Lumps are perfectly fine, but just make sure it's easily mixable. Salt and pepper to taste.
When the cabbage is ready, add a few handfuls of spinach and cook until just wilting, which will take but a minute or two. Add the greens into the potatoes, return the skillet to the heat, and add another dollop of butter to melt. Mix the greens and potatoes together until everything is relatively well incorporated, then pour it all back into the skillet. Even out the potato mixture, much like you would cake batter in a pan, and let cook until the sides and bottom have browned. (This is when the bubbling and squeaking will occur; if you find that your dinner is not singing to you on the stove, it's a good sign that the heat may not be high enough.) You can add a few additional dabs of butter along the top of the potatoes, as well as some more salt and pepper, if you'd like.
While the bubble and squeak is a-bubblin' and squeakin' away, turn on your broiler to heat up. Once the potatoes are nicely brown and crisp, pop the skillet under the broiler for a few minutes, until the top is also brown and crisp. Let sit for a few minutes to cool, then serve.
The Husband and I have been known to enjoy the odd bubble and squeak as part of a brunch spread (where it once accompanied potato-leek soup, because we enjoy repetition), but it is also an excellent meal in and of itself, particularly suited to cold, grey days (of either the weather or temperament variety) where warmth and heartiness (and butter) are much appreciated.
Bubble and squeak is, at its core, a recipe for the using up of leftovers, specifically those from a traditional English roast dinner. Similar dishes abound throughout Europe, but the two that matter for the purposes of this post are colcannon, from Ireland, and — I kid you not — rumbledethumps, from Scotland. (RUMBLEDETHUMPS! Is that not just the most delightful thing ever? And now you know why I adore Scotland so.) There are a few minor differences (colcannon substitutes kale for cabbage, and rumbledethumps(!) involves cheese), but all three dishes are basically just potatoes, a leafy green, and copious amounts of sweet, sweet butter. For the etymology nerds out there, bubble and squeak takes its name from the sound that the food makes while cooking. Colcannon is derived from cole, meaning cabbage; rumbledethumps comes from rumbled, for food that has been mashed or scrambled, and thumps may refer to the fact that, originally, this dish was made by bashing the daylights out of the potatoes and cabbage with a large pestle.
I first discovered bubble and squeak in a cookbook I bought ages ago, which was purchased mostly for the introductory sections (discussions various grains, oils, beans, etc., with lots of pretty pictures). I can't remember a single other recipe from said cookbook, and it was given away during the Great Purge of 2009, but because it introduced me to bubble and squeak, I will always think fondly upon it. Godspeed, forgotten cookbook, wherever you are.
My recipe is slightly different from some of the more traditional ones I've uncovered, but its heart is in the right place. It's a very simple recipe, with few ingredients; if you find yourself with leftover mashed potatoes and greens (or any vegetable, really), this should come together in a flash. This means you can also prepare the potatoes and/or the vegetables ahead of time, or even cook the entire dish the day before; it reheats wonderfully. Also, as a side note, one of my all-time favorite cooking shows, Two Fat Ladies, insists that you must use lard or drippings in this dish, as they are the only fats that can heat up enough. This is a load of old rubbish. While I'm sure that bacon fat is wonderful stuff, butter does just fine.
Get yourself a couple of medium-sized potatoes; I prefer russets, but any starchy potato will do nicely. Since I think the skin is the best part of a potato, I give them a good scrub and then chop them into one-inch chunks. (Peeling the potatoes is fine, as is leaving them whole — I just find that chopping them up speeds up the cooking process.) Plop them in a large pot with some well-salted water and boil under tender.
While the potatoes are boiling, thinly slice two leeks and a half a cabbage. Melt a good dollop of butter in an oven-safe pan (I use my trusty 10 1/4" cast iron skillet) over medium heat, and saute the leeks until translucent (a finely-diced clove or two of garlic wouldn't go amiss here, either). Add the cabbage, cover, and cook until tender.
Once the potatoes are done, drain, add a slosh of milk (or cream, if you are devilish) and a good knob of butter, then mash. Lumps are perfectly fine, but just make sure it's easily mixable. Salt and pepper to taste.
When the cabbage is ready, add a few handfuls of spinach and cook until just wilting, which will take but a minute or two. Add the greens into the potatoes, return the skillet to the heat, and add another dollop of butter to melt. Mix the greens and potatoes together until everything is relatively well incorporated, then pour it all back into the skillet. Even out the potato mixture, much like you would cake batter in a pan, and let cook until the sides and bottom have browned. (This is when the bubbling and squeaking will occur; if you find that your dinner is not singing to you on the stove, it's a good sign that the heat may not be high enough.) You can add a few additional dabs of butter along the top of the potatoes, as well as some more salt and pepper, if you'd like.
While the bubble and squeak is a-bubblin' and squeakin' away, turn on your broiler to heat up. Once the potatoes are nicely brown and crisp, pop the skillet under the broiler for a few minutes, until the top is also brown and crisp. Let sit for a few minutes to cool, then serve.
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| Half a pan of bubsqueak, because we are impatient when butter is involved. |
The Husband and I have been known to enjoy the odd bubble and squeak as part of a brunch spread (where it once accompanied potato-leek soup, because we enjoy repetition), but it is also an excellent meal in and of itself, particularly suited to cold, grey days (of either the weather or temperament variety) where warmth and heartiness (and butter) are much appreciated.
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