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Guinness Coffee Irish Beef Stew — When the Pot Is the Heart of the House

Labor Day weekend is coming and the summer is ending and Lucas is four months old and sitting up with support and I am convinced he is the most advanced baby in the history of babies, which I know is what every grandmother says and I do not care because every grandmother is right about her own grandchild. Lucas is brilliant. Lucas holds his head up like a champion. Lucas grabs my nose when I hold him and the nose-grabbing is a sign of intelligence, I am certain of this, and no pediatrician will convince me otherwise.

Sofia started her third semester. She is deep in microbiology and pharmacology, the courses that will determine her nursing school transfer. She studies at my kitchen table every night, and I cook around her, and Mami sits across from her and watches, and the three of us exist in this kitchen like three planets orbiting the same stove — different trajectories, same gravitational center. The stove is the sun. We are the orbits. The food is the light.

Rosa and Carlos are wedding planning. They want October 2019 — a fall wedding, one year from now. Rosa wants outdoor photos with the leaves. Carlos wants a DJ instead of a band. I want pernil. Everyone gets what they want. The democracy of wedding planning works only when one member of the democracy controls the food, and I control the food, and the food is the foundation, and the foundation is not negotiable.

Made a late-summer sancocho this weekend — the big stew, beef and chicken and pork with all the root vegetables, the kind of meal that takes four hours to make and feeds twenty people and tastes like every memory I have of Bayamon on a September afternoon when the rain came and Mami put the pot on and the house filled with steam and the steam filled with love and we ate until we could not move and then we ate more. I made it for Sunday dinner. Eighteen people at the table. Lucas in his high chair, gumming a piece of bread that Jenny gave him, not eating it exactly but experiencing it, which at four months is the same thing. His first bread. In my kitchen. At my table. The chain does not break. The chain adds links. Link by link, meal by meal, baby by baby. The chain grows.

Sancocho is the stew I was born knowing, but a good stew is a good stew in any language — and what I love about this Guinness Coffee Irish Beef Stew is that it asks the same thing of you that sancocho does: time, patience, and the faith that a heavy pot and a low flame will do the rest. I made the sancocho for eighteen people that Sunday, for Lucas’s first bread and Rosa’s wedding news and Sofia studying at my table, and what I kept thinking was that the stew was the whole story — everyone orbiting that pot, everyone fed by it. This recipe gives you that same gravitational pull, different roots, same truth: you put love in the pot and the pot gives it back to everyone at the table.

Guinness Coffee Irish Beef Stew

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 2 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 50 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 2 1/2 lbs beef chuck, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
  • 1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper, plus more to taste
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 1 large yellow onion, diced
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 1 can (14.9 oz) Guinness stout
  • 1/2 cup strong brewed coffee, cooled
  • 2 cups beef broth
  • 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 1 teaspoon dried thyme
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 4 medium carrots, cut into 1-inch pieces
  • 3 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, cut into 1 1/2-inch chunks
  • 2 stalks celery, sliced
  • 2 tablespoons cornstarch mixed with 2 tablespoons cold water (optional, for thickening)
  • Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Season and sear the beef. Pat beef cubes dry with paper towels and season generously with salt and pepper. Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Working in batches, sear the beef on all sides until deeply browned, about 3–4 minutes per batch. Transfer seared beef to a plate and set aside.
  2. Sauté the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium and add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the pot. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and golden, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and tomato paste, stirring constantly, and cook for 2 more minutes until the paste darkens slightly.
  3. Deglaze with Guinness and coffee. Pour in the Guinness stout and the brewed coffee, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon. Let the liquid bubble and reduce for 3 minutes.
  4. Build the braise. Return the seared beef to the pot. Add the beef broth, Worcestershire sauce, brown sugar, thyme, and bay leaves. Stir to combine. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 1 hour 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
  5. Add the vegetables. Stir in the carrots, potatoes, and celery. Cover and continue to simmer over low heat for another 45 minutes, or until the vegetables are fork-tender and the beef is very soft and falling apart.
  6. Thicken if desired. If you prefer a thicker stew, stir in the cornstarch slurry a little at a time, simmering uncovered for 5–10 minutes until the broth reaches your desired consistency. Remove bay leaves.
  7. Taste and finish. Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Ladle into bowls and garnish with fresh chopped parsley. Serve with crusty bread or dinner rolls.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 610mg

Carmen Delgado-Ortiz
About the cook who shared this
Carmen Delgado-Ortiz
Week 127 of Carmen’s 30-year story · Hartford, Connecticut
Carmen is a sixty-year-old retired hospital cafeteria manager, a grandmother of eight, and a Puerto Rican woman who survived Hurricane María in 2017 and rebuilt her life in Hartford, Connecticut, with nothing but her mother's sofrito recipe and the kind of determination that only comes from watching everything you own get washed away. She cooks arroz con pollo, pernil, and pasteles for every holiday, and her kitchen is always open because in Carmen's world, nobody eats alone.

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