If corned beef hash is on the menu, I order it. Rosy hand-cut hash with sunny eggs and steaming black coffee feels old-school, seductively noir. Like something the laconic Sam Spade would eat if he found his way into Hopper’s Nighthawks diner.
But the industrial canned versions jolt me from my reveries. The uniform bits of bland potatoes give them away as fakes, leaving me undeterred in my quest for the non plus ultra of this retro dish.
With St. Patrick’s Day on my radar, I decided to take on the dish myself. It’s worth what Sam Spade might call “a reasonable amount of trouble.”
The word hash comes from the French hacher, to chop. As for the corned beef, if you’re asking “Where’s the corn?,” that refers to the kernel-size hunks of salt used to cure the meat. Corning was a classic way to preserve a beef brisket by packing it in salt and spices for the long winter.
The traditional New England boiled dinner — the starting point for corned beef hash — consists of meat, overcooked until it’s tender-yet-dry, served with limp vegetables. Vigorous boiling does no favors for the meat or the dish’s reputation. Old recipes for hash are typical of our New England character: they’re dour, brief, and practical, as in “Chop up last night’s boiled dinner, mix, and fry.”
Determined to treat this humble breakfast with respect and care, I first checked in with multiple sources. But among them — Beard, Child, Joy of Cooking, and a collection of modern-day chefs — there was no agreement. Some ran the meat and vegetable mixture through a grinder or bound it with an old-school white sauce or cream; contemporary cooks tended to deconstruct the elements, leaving them too un-hashed to be my ideal. I wanted a middle ground, one that brought the elements together but also featured crisped potatoes and meat.
I headed to Stop & Shop on an early February weekend to pick up the corned beef. There wasn’t any. The nice lady in the meat section informed me that the window for corned beef is two weeks before St. Patrick’s Day. When did this mainstay become an only-for-St.-Paddy’s-Day thing?
Since we divide our time between Wellfleet and New York, I figured I would pick up my corned brisket in the city. Again, no luck. I could see why many recipes now start with the corning itself, but I knew that wasn’t in the cards for me — or, I’m guessing, for you.
Finally, our third-generation neighborhood butcher told me he could get me one. “But I’ll need to sell you the whole piece,” he said. “I’m a pro — I can handle that,” I thought. “No problem,” I said.
In diner slang, hash is referred to as “take a chance.” Boy, did I. When I came to pick it up three days later, I found myself the owner of 15 pounds of brisket. The bill was $250. “That is one delicious piece of meat,” the butcher said. I pretended to be nonchalant as I wheeled out my cart of beef. But all I could think was, “OMG, it had freaking better be.”
At home, the epic slab of meat lay across my counter. I was beginning to think corned beef hash was my white whale. But I was committed. I trimmed the behemoth of fat and cut it into pieces, separating the thin, leaner end — the flat — from the thick, fattier end, called the point cut.
Now I have a year’s supply of luscious pink marbled corned beef in my freezer for making proper New England dinners, Reubens, and real-deal hash. A situation that’s far from tragic.
The key to cooking corned beef is gentle heat and time. I put a two-and-a-half-pound piece in a Dutch oven with water to cover along with an onion, carrot, celery, and half teaspoons of whole allspice, mustard, and coriander seeds — spices that are typical of a corned beef cure. I threw in some thyme sprigs and parsley because I had them but added absolutely no salt. I set the lid slightly ajar and poached the beef, keeping the liquid below the boil, for a little over three hours.
What you’re looking for is for the meat to pull apart easily when pierced with a fork. A heads-up: corned beef shrinks a lot in the cooking. When it was tender and still warm, I sliced it thin, against the grain, for hot sandwiches with fresh slaw for dinner. They were amazing. Then I wrapped up the meat for next day’s brunch and saved the cooking liquid.
My goal was a mix of textures, not uniformity. So, I pulled the meat along the grain into shards and then chopped half the pieces. I chose Yukon gold potatoes for their ability to hold their shape and sweet potatoes to play up the sweet spices in the corned beef’s cure. Cooking the potatoes in the flavorful reserved cooking liquid married the spuds to the meat. But then browning the onions and potatoes separately before mixing them with the meat satisfied the goal of a keeping a multiplicity of flavors. I heated and crisped the hash while cooking eggs for topping the dish.
I had planned to be restrained. This is stick-to-your-ribs stuff, after all. But I couldn’t stop. With a nod to red flannel hash — a variation that adds beets — I whipped a little cream and folded in beet-tinged horseradish as an optional garnish alongside rye toast.
I felt like I had finally done hash justice. Monsieur Spade might even approve, I thought. Then I needed a nap.
AN IDEALIST’S CORNED BEEF HASH
Makes 4 servings
Note: This recipe starts with the leftovers of a “boiled dinner” described in this story: a 2.5-pound corned beef that has been slowly poached with pickling spices for three hours or until tender, some of it served sliced and warm, the rest saved, including the cooking liquid, for the next day’s hash.
2 Yukon gold potatoes, about 12 ounces, peeled and diced
1 medium sweet potato, about 6 ounces, peeled and diced
Broth from cooking corned beef
1 pound poached corned beef
1½ Tbsp. oil or rendered corned beef fat, plus more as needed
1½ Tbsp. butter, plus more as needed
1 large yellow onion, diced
3 Tbsp. roughly chopped parsley
4 large eggs, for frying
4 slices rye bread
Beet-horseradish cream as a garnish
- Put the diced potatoes and sweet potatoes in a medium saucepan with the corned beef cooking liquid to cover. There’s no need for added salt. Bring to a boil over high heat, then adjust the heat to a gentle simmer and cook until the potatoes are done but firm, about 3 minutes more. Drain. (These can be done a day ahead and refrigerated.)
- Pull the corned beef into long pieces. Chop about half of the pieces and combine the two cuts together in a medium-large bowl. (If there are any nuggets of fat, include them as well.)
- Heat a large cast-iron skillet over medium heat, add the oil and butter. Add the onions and cook, stirring occasionally until the onions are golden brown, about 15 minutes. Scoop the onions from the pan with a slotted spoon and mix into the corned beef.
- Add the potatoes to the pan and cook, stirring occasionally and adding more butter if needed to brown the potatoes. This takes 12-15 minutes. Add the potatoes to the corned beef and mix well.
- If the pan is dry, add a bit more butter and/or oil. Add the corned beef mixture, stirring until heated and bits of the meat get crispy, about 5 minutes. Meanwhile fry or poach the eggs as desired. Toast the bread. Serve the hash with eggs on top and beet cream and toast on the side.
BEET CREAM
1/3 cup heavy cream
2 Tbsp. beet horseradish, or to taste
Lightly beat the cream in a medium bowl until it holds soft peaks. Fold in the horseradish.
Refrigerate until ready to serve.
