Ronnie's Notes
Hash
For February 17, 2011
My Mom, who struggled through the Great Depression and World War II rationing, talked as though the relative prosperity that came during the 1950s freed her from scrimping and saving every ingredient in the fridge or pantry. But her actions belied her words. Although she began to be less discriminating about what she threw out, the meals she continued to cook with leftovers were some of her best, most requested and enduring. My brothers and I still long for some of those dishes: Macaroni and Cheese made with any old cheese (moldy parts removed); Fruit Sauce with no-so-prime apples and pears; open-face meat sandwiches with hot gravy.
But the best one was her Roast Beef Hash, a savory concoction composed of cut up leftover meat mixed with mashed potatoes and a huge amount of sautéed onions. She combined everything, sprinkled it with paprika to give the top some color and baked it until it was hot and crispy on top.
Hers wasn’t authentic hash. But names aside, for me the dish is Proustian fare, as it is for so many other Americans, because it conjures up memories of family dinners, good food, contentment. Strange then how maligned hash has been, generally. At one time the words “hash house” meant a bad restaurant, and a “hash slinger” a cook in a cheap, greasy spoon.
You can easily imagine how combinations of ingredients put together without any thought could be awful. And if all you’ve tasted of hash are the charmless canned versions or the pasty, salty old public school or cafeteria kind, you might wonder why so many of us love the stuff.
It’s not that we’re unsophisticated or ignorant. We just know that in the hands of a good cook, hash can be memorable. In fact, the once renowned chef Louis Diat, who became Chef de Cuisine at New York’s Ritz-Carlton Hotel when it first opened in 1910, created Chicken Hash a la Ritz for the hotel’s posh clientele. This was a lavish, elegant entree using tender chicken, sherry wine and loads of butter, egg yolk and cream.
Obviously most hash recipes are not so haute. At its core, this dish remains a good way to use up leftovers. It’s plebian fare, but who cares? It’s a delicious way to stretch a dollar. Saving money and cooking a good dinner at the same time is a double bonus.
The word hash comes from the French verb hacher, which means, “to chop,” so the authentic way to prepare the dish is to chop the ingredients and combine them with gravy or sauce and then either bake, broil or fry the mixture until it’s crispy. You can make it pancake style, as one big piece (to be cut into wedges), or shape it into hamburger-like patties or even toss it about in the pan as a crust forms on the bottom, distributing the crunchiness around, and serve it in chunks.
Any meat will do. The most well known version is probably corned beef hash, but roast beef, lamb, poultry and even fish are fine. Most hash recipes also include potatoes, though it isn’t essential. Vegetables will substitute nicely, especially sturdy ones such as sweet potatoes, winter squash, peas, lima beans, parsnips, carrots and beets, because they soften, but aren’t watery. As for the liquid, there are many choices, including classic white sauce, gravy, pan juices, stock, milk, cheese sauce and so on.
The trick to good hash is keeping the ingredients moist, but reducing the liquid enough to assure a good crust. A heavy cast iron pan helps because it retains the heat well, assuring a well-browned bottom. But a non-stick skillet will also work and might let you cut down on cooking fat.
Some old recipe instructions tell you to brown the hash bottom, then flip it and some tell you to fold the hash, omelet style. In a perfect world you might actually be able to do that, perfectly. But hash is, well, a hash of many small pieces, vaguely held together by evaporating liquid. So it might fall apart. Pay it no mind. Serve it all jumbled up, topped with sliced tomatoes or a fried egg, yolks left runny to seep into the ingredients beneath, and all will be forgiven. Families will cheer this for dinner. Company will welcome the dish for brunch. Memories are made of this.
Instructions
Place the potatoes in a saucepan, cover with lightly salted water and bring to a boil over high heat.
Lower the heat to a simmer and cook for or until tender.
Drain, chop the potatoes into small pieces and set aside.
Heat 2 tablespoons butter and 1 tablespoon olive oil in a sauté pan over medium heat.
When the butter has melted and looks foamy, add the onions, cover the pan and cook for , stirring occasionally, or until the onions are soft.
Remove the lid and cook for or until golden brown.
Place the onions in a bowl.
Add the turkey and set aside.
Heat one tablespoon butter and 2 tablespoons olive oil in the sauté pan over medium heat.
When the butter has melted and looks foamy, add the potatoes and cook for , turning them occasionally, or until lightly browned and lightly crispy.
Add the potatoes to the onion mixture.
Stir in the Worcestershire sauce and salt and pepper to taste.
Shape the mixture into 4 patties and refrigerate for at least one hour.
Preheat the oven to warm.
Press the patties into the Panko crumbs to coat the surface.
Heat the vegetable oil in a sauté pan over medium heat.
Fry the patties for per side or until they are golden brown and crispy.
Place one in each of 4 plates and keep warm in the oven.
Heat 2 teaspoons butter in the sauté pan over medium heat.
When the butter has melted and looks foamy, cook the eggs, sunnyside up, to desired doneness (but keep the yolks slightly runny).
Place one fried egg on top of each hash patty.
Makes 2 dinner servings, 4 brunch servings