Forget your shmancy-pants chef hacks for making the perfect mash potato dish – the real secret lies in a little known cooking technique used in many Irish kitchens
If I see another cheffy recipe for mashed potato that involves whisking with cream, baking and pushing through a sieve or passing through the Gates of Mordor, I will eat my late dad Jack’s mouldy old tweedy hat.
My Irish dad Jack was a grand cook but also very lazy, so he would shout cooking instructions at me from the orange and brown battered sofa in the living room where he’d be watching the news on his old wooden-framed Panasonic TV set. Every so often he’d also yell at me to run in and change the channel, like I was a human remote control.
Anyway, this meant I learned to cook when I was very young – like most children who were their family slaves back in the 1970s. I often tell my 16-year-old daughter how I could knock up an entire roast meal at the age of 10, while she sets off the smoke alarm just by heating up pizza – having failed to remove the packaging first.
No matter what any chefs tell you, there are just three ingredients in mashed potato plus seasoning, but you can add whatever you like after the bowlful of fluffy loveliness is ready. My dad would throw in a few handfuls of chopped scallions (spring onions) which I love, but my irritating teenager insists on picking out, so I don’t bother any more and just stick to plain mash.
Potatoes, milk and butter – and salt and pepper – that’s it. No fancy pants, but the trick is buying the right spuds in the first place. You want fluffy starchy thin-skinned potatoes like Maris Piper, King Edwards, Rooster, Desiree or Estima.
I won’t give you exact measurements but a serving is about two medium size spuds per person. Peel and cut the potatoes in half – or thirds if they’re very large – cover with cold water in a saucepan and bring to the boil then simmer with the lid on. The tip here is not to cut the spuds too small to cook quicker or they’ll go watery. I don’t tend to salt the water as I add that later.
When you can easily pass a fork through a chunk of potato and the water is floury, they’re ready. Using the lid to hold the potatoes, pour off the hot water and then pop back on the heat to completely dry them out.
It’s at this point you can go old school and use a potato masher, but I have now upgraded to a potato ricer, which my old dad would be very sniffy about. But the key to mash is not to overwork it, and a ricer is the perfect tool for a lump-free result without pummelling the potato into something that resembles wallpaper paste.
And this is where the secret technique to perfect mash happens. If you’re using a masher, then leave the dried potatoes in the pan and add a good glug of milk and turn up the heat – it needs to boil.
My dad used to call it “scalding the milk” and is this is where you add chunks of butter to melt in the hot milk, plus plenty of salt and pepper. Then you take the pan off the heat, and mash gently, before using a fork to whip the potato into the perfect fluffy result.
If you’re using a ricer, then just “scald” the milk and butter in the pan where you’ve cooked the spuds, and then add it to the bowl of riced potatoes. Again, don’t use too much milk – just add a splash and whip with a fork as you go, testing the consistency.
You can also make this foolproof mash ahead of time and just heat it up in the microwave. I also keep leftovers in the fridge to make authentic Irish potato bread at the weekend – but that’s a recipe for another time…
• The Mirror’s Siobhan McNally writes about easy chef skills everyone can learn to make cooking from scratch simple.
