Folklorist Michael Fortune explores the traditions surrounding the nation's most beloved Halloween dish...
Hallowe'en night has gone by many different names across Ireland, often inspired by the food eaten, the games played, or the guisers who called to your door.
Here in Wexford I’ve heard it called Snap Apple Night, Vizzarding Night, Blackman’s Night, Collicking Night, and Gatelifting Night, to name a few. But it was also known as Colcannon Night - or even Colcannon Day.
For those unfamiliar, colcannon is one of the dishes most closely associated with the Irish Hallowe’en tradition. As a harvest festival, Hallowe’en was a chance to feast on the crops gathered in autumn and stored for the coming winter. Growing up in rural Wexford, a big pot of colcannon was always put on - for the family, for any vizzards, bawmen, quare fellas, or simply the neighbours who called to the door.
Watch: Hallowe'en Food - Colcannon, Barmbrack and Predicting the Future
To be honest, I can’t imagine Hallowe’en without colcannon and the big pot my late mother made every year. In fact, I can safely say that in the past 45+ years, there hasn’t been a single Hallowe’en night when I haven’t eaten a feed of it. I doubt I’m alone in that claim.
I make it exactly as my mother and grandmother did - and I’m fairly sure they made it as their people did before them. Only recently, I met with a local ICA group of about 25 older women here in Wexford, and when the conversation turned to colcannon, their recipe was identical to the one I grew up with.
Watch: Folklorist Aileen Lambert sings Colcannon
Older people here also placed a ring into the colcannon - just like in the barmbrack. These tokens foretold your future, and I still do this with my own children. The tradition remains especially strong in Dublin.
Of course, colcannon varies slightly depending on region, local produce, and family tradition. In Mayo, for example, they called it cally. Interestingly, the Schools’ Folklore Collection of 1937–38 shows that "colcannon" is rarely mentioned in Cork and Kerry but appears frequently in Leinster. It wasn’t only eaten at Hallowe’en either - people made it at different times of year depending on what vegetables were in season. And forget celebrity chefs telling you to use scallions: you wouldn’t have found scallions in late October in Ireland in the past!
Watch: Colcannon accounts from Newfoundland
Colcannon was always a simple, one-pot dish. No parboiling, no frying separately. Most people, like my mother and grandmother, cooked it over the open fire. You didn’t have four rings and an oven - just the pot over the flames.
How to make a Wexford colcannon
There are regional differences, but two ingredients define a true Wexford colcannon: cabbage and parsnips. In Dublin, many people grew up with colcannon made from curly kale, but here kale was mostly cattle feed. We used cabbage from the garden, and always added a parsnip for that subtle, sweet flavour. In some homes, a carrot was used instead. Across the Atlantic in Newfoundland, where Irish traditions travelled, turnip often took the place of parsnip.
It’s also worth noting that colcannon isn’t unique to Ireland. In Wales, it was called Mash of 9 sorts or Mash of 10 sorts, depending on the number of vegetables. In Malta, a similar dish is made on All Souls’ Day, while in parts of Holland and Germany, cabbage and potato mash was eaten on St. Martin’s Night (11 November) - a reminder of the old overlap between St. Martin’s Night (sometimes called "Old Hallowe’en") and our Irish Hallowe’en.
But enough talk—here’s the Wexford recipe.
A Wexford Colcannon
Ingredients (serves a family):
8–9 large potatoes (Roosters work well)
1 medium head of cabbage (Green or Savoy)
3 parsnips
2–3 onions
½ block of butter (about 200g)
Salt and white pepper
A splash of milk (only if needed)
About ½ pint of water
Method:
In a large pot, layer the onions, parsnips, and cabbage at the bottom, then add the potatoes on top.
Add the water, cover with cabbage leaves, and steam slowly.
When the potatoes are soft, strain and mash everything together with salt, white pepper, and butter. Add a drop of milk if needed.
In the traditional way, place a ring or coin in the mash, add a knob of butter on top, and serve the children first.
Optional: A fried egg on top, though in my family colcannon was always a pure vegetable meal. Meat wasn’t added—partly because it would take from the flavour, and partly because years ago there wasn’t meat to spare for half the parish.
Simple, hearty, and steeped in tradition—that’s a Wexford colcannon for you. Enjoy!
Find out more about folklorist Michael Fortune and his work here
