Originally published in print November 2020.

Milk is a cookbook with a manifesto. Its authors, John and Sally McKenna, are among Ireland’s foremost food writers, and are perhaps best known for the annual 100 Best Restaurants in Ireland guide, which they’ve curated since 1992. In Milk, they aim to promote Irish dairy products as the best in the world. To this end, they borrow the concept of “grand cru ingredients” from French winemaking: just as a particular piece of land is perfect for growing a certain type of grape, the McKennas contend that Ireland’s climate and our unique grazing culture, particularly the fact that Irish cattle are predominantly grass fed, allows us to produce artisan dairy products on an industrial scale. 

 

From its structure to its large typeface, this book emphasises simplicity and accessibility. After brief introductions to the major food groups (milk, butter, cheese) and some interviews with dairy farmers, the bulk of the book is given over to recipes from 60 Irish chefs, each using dairy as its chief ingredient. We begin with methodologies around compound (flavoured) butter, paneer and labneh, after which we whizz from overnight oats, through dips, snacks, mains, baking, and as far as the Lebowski White Russian. The McKennas have curated this cookbook as much as written it, with many of the recipes courtesy of Ireland’s best chefs and food writers, from Anne Marie Tobin to Martin Shanahan of Kinsale’s Fishy Fishy. 

 

Sometimes we benefit hugely from having a credible source point out something obvious: sure, feta originates on the shores of the Mediterranean, but Irish farmhouse feta is guaranteed to be more delicious than anything we import from Grecian isles. The McKennas leverage their position as respected food writers and, alongside an army of chefs and even a team of scientists, they assure us that dairy is good for us and that Irish dairy is sort of a magic ingredient. The timing of this argument is interesting. On the one hand, the farm-to-table movement is gaining traction in Ireland and abroad, and yet we are seeing a shift away from dairy towards oat and soy alternatives, particularly among young people. Milk does not explicitly position itself within this debate, but it does make the point that “[due] to the grass-based production system, Irish dairy farms have some of the lowest levels of greenhouse gas emissions in the EU, with approximately 99% of the water used supplied naturally by rainfall.” The book implies, therefore, that a sustainable future for Irish farming must put dairy production at its centre, given our long and successful tradition as producers. 

 

Given the book’s emphasis on simplicity, it follows that the detail on some of its more technical procedures is not as exhaustive as one might like. For me, however, it’s always more important that a cookbook convince you that you can and should make a recipe than provide the most exhaustive (and daunting) diagrammatic instructions, and this is certainly true of Milk, which is full of pride and possibility. Did you know you can make your own labneh, paneer, or chicken liver pâté? The McKennas are here to tell you that you can, and that they all taste better if made with world class Irish dairy. 

 

Many of the recipes follow this lead. They draw from the cuisines around the world and make one basic, irresistible assertion: this would benefit from Irish milk, butter or cheese. So follow recipes for bolognese, khachapuri, and spinach dhal with tadka butter. For the most part, however, the recipes are familiar to an Irish audience: seafood chowder, cranberry and blood orange scones, even homemade jambons. The recipe for lambs’ kidneys with juniper is somehow both exotic and rustic, while the excellent sundried tomato and basil mash lends verve to an Irish dinnertime staple. We’re informed what milk jam is (it’s the same thing as dulce de leche), and how to make it alongside a recipe for crisp, buttery churros from Mark Moriarty. 

 

Milk’s high gloss cover and the almost laminated-feeling pages detract somewhat from Mark O’Toole’s sumptuous food photography, and I wonder whether the book could have taken itself more seriously, given that its stated aim is to elevate Irish produce to international renown. Its focus seems, however, to be firmly on its Irish audience, who are sure to benefit from a book written expressly for them. It’s a welcome change for someone living in Ireland to read a cookbook cover to cover and not have to worry about where they can find the ingredients. Indeed it’s rarer still that a cookbook presents such an array of recipes that one feels both willing and able to make. 

 

Here is Tony Davidson’s recipe for crispy haddock goujons: 

 

Ingredients:

250g haddock

235ml buttermilk

 

Batter:

100g flour

100g cornflour

10g cayenne

10g smoked paprika

500ml oil for frying

 

To garnish:

2 spring onions, thinly sliced

2 red chillies, thinly sliced

Sea salt, black pepper

 

Dip: 

200g natural yogurt

Juice 1 lemon 

 

Method:

Cut the haddock into strips, roughly finger sized. Cover the haddock in buttermilk and leave for 20 minutes. Mix the flour, cornflour and spices together.

Heat oil to 190°C in a deep-fat fryer.

Drain the haddock and coat strips in the flour mix, about 4 strips at a time, and add them to the oil, cooking for around 4 minutes each until golden brown.

Once all the haddock strips have been cooked, transfer them to a serving bowl, and add thinly sliced spring onions and chillies. Season with a generous amount of sea salt and black pepper.

Mix the yogurt with the lemon juice and season, then serve on the side as a dip.