Comfort foods: Celebrating culture and connection
I hosted two visiting friends over the weekend. For both, it was their first time in Dublin, and they shared one wish: to eat a traditional Irish dinner. I am embarrassed to admit I was a bit stumped for ideas. What came to mind was numerous Italian restaurants, endless examples of spots to grab some ‘Asian fusion,’ and enough small plate establishments that even Londoners would find the list exhaustive. The city’s culinary scene is certainly not to be dismissed, but nothing really screams distinctly Irish.
I am often reluctant to suggest Irish stew or coddle as representatives of Ireland’s national dishes, keen to avoid feeding into any uninteresting stereotypical depictions of a quaint little country still yet to discover sliced bread. But as with so many stereotypes, they are often founded on some basis of truth. These dishes are steeped in Irish culture and heritage, and despite being overshadowed by Dublin’s more ambitious eateries and being hard to find on menus outside those catering to tourists, their homemade counterparts are still a winter staple for many families.
So I brought my friends to one of the various gastro pubs in town, and, much to their delight, they enjoyed a great big portion of mash, gravy, and a Beef and Guinness Pie. It is the type of meal I would rarely eat anywhere other than my granny’s house, and perhaps that direct correlation carries much of the enjoyment of the food. Or maybe it's how the warm richness of it abates the pervasive winter chill that seeps into your bones. Traditional Irish food may not exhibit all of the bells and whistles of French fine dining or the elaborate presentation of a Michelin-starred meal, but it doesn’t need to. Its simplicity and the familiar comforts associated with it are what have carried the recipes through generations.
The adored American food writer, MFK Fisher, in her book The Gastronomical Me, wrote, ‘It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so entwined that we cannot think of one without the other.’ The quote perfectly summarises what comfort food is: a culinary nostalgia wrapped in warmth and memory. What also makes comfort food so compelling is its being entirely personal, unique to each individual, often serving as a reminder of where we’re from and who filled our plates and bellies long before we could cook for ourselves. In each bite, memories boil to the surface, found again in the familiar flavours that define our fondest reminiscings.
Around the world, every culture has its own equivalent: dishes that don’t need to be impressive to be important. In Japan, the gentle heat of a bowl of curry udon wraps thick noodles in a soft, spiced broth, bringing quiet reassurance on a cold day. In Korea, the chewy rice cakes of tteokbokki simmer in a sweet-and-spicy sauce, evoking bustling street stalls and the simple joy of sharing food with friends. In Mexico, a steaming bowl of chicken pozole verde, bright with tomatillos and fresh herbs, brings a lively, comforting freshness that celebrates home-cooked meals and family gatherings.
The notion of comfort food is an incredibly important one to retain, as eating and its purpose in our lives are frequently distorted by what is promoted on social media. As conversations around weight loss regress to early 2000s levels of toxicity, and unhealthy diets and attitudes are once again popularised, it is important to remind ourselves that our relationship with food needn’t be one of constant calculations, restrictions and measurements. Comfort food, a conscious and intentional act of eating for enjoyment, is vital to our livelihood. Food has always been far more than just fuel. It is culture, it is connection, and it is a casual celebration of the bodies we inhabit.
Writer: Maeve Ruane Ronayne @maeveruaneronayne
Editor: Shaunamay Martin Bohan @f4wnfatale
