As a teenager, Owen Connors hated Saturdays. For four long years, he had to spend his afternoons playing rugby at school, pushing in the scrum, nose up against his classmates' smelly sports clothes. In all weathers, they'd be out there - come rain, sleet or snow.
Our floppy-haired hero would walk home in the dark, covered in mud and frozen to the bone. So, imagine his joy when he opened the front door of the family's small suburban house to be greeted by the delicious aroma of Guinness pie. His troubles would melt away instantly.
He and his parents would get comfortable around the table in the warm kitchen, the wind screaming outside, rain battering the windows. And together, the family would enjoy the homemade pie with mashed potatoes and greens.
"It was the exact opposite of standing on a field with rain and wind," says Owen, who works as audio editor at Spotlight. "It was the smell of home and it felt like a warm hug. You'd come in and just perk up."
Mum made the pie herself, the pastry was always "buttery and flaky", the meaty sauce a bit sticky. "And then there was the joy of being able to pick the bits of pastry off the side of the dish," Owen remembers. "You'd think you couldn't possibly eat another bite, but you'd still want more."
Mum and dad were both bohemian types with a love of transcendental meditation, so there was always lots of philosophical chat around the kitchen table. They would share stories about work and school, but usually end up talking about the meaning of life.
This was not a typical Dublin family. Owen's parents were not religious, so he'd never felt part of the city's tight-knit Catholic and Protestant communities. He attended a Protestant school, The Kings Hospital, which took in children from elite families - "It was the only place that would take me," he says.
It's rather strange, therefore, that his favourite dish should be so very Irish. But, he says, Guinness pie goes back to a broader idea of what it is to be Irish, beyond the post-colonial conceits of Dublin, which once served as a base for British rule.
Owen had never really fitted into Dublin society. He could never find his sense of Irishness there. But now, as an adult, whenever he thinks of Ireland, he thinks of the poetry of W. B. Yeats and the wild landscapes of the west coast.
It's perhaps not surprising that, after teaching for a time and touring with his rock band in the noughties, Owen left Ireland in search of a new life. On a short visit to Munich with his German girlfriend, he felt a sudden desire to stay. He can remember thinking: "This place is amazing - it's clean, safe, near the mountains and lakes."
Owen doesn't eat Guinness pie very often in Munich, but he did recently test the recipe for this article with his mum and one of his daughters - three generations eating and enjoying the food of his childhood.
"It worked," he says. "I'd like to show my kids more of that kind of food."
Steak & Guinness Pie
For the pastry
• 200 g flour
• 1 pinch of salt
• 100 g butter, cubed
• 2–3 tbsp water
For the filling
• salt, to taste
• ground black pepper, to taste
• 900 g steak, cut into small cubes
• 25 g butter
• 1 tbsp vegetable oil
• 2 large onions, sliced
• 2 large carrots, sliced
• 500 ml Guinness, or other dark beer
• 200 ml beef stock
• 2 tsp sugar
• 1 large egg, beaten
Instructions
For the pastry, mix the flour, salt and butter in a bowl, creating a consistency like breadcrumbs. Add the water to the dough and form a ball. Cover the bowl and cool in the fridge for 30 minutes. For the filling, heat the butter and oil in a pot until the butter has melted. Add the meat and brown it. Remove and put aside. Add the onions and carrots to the pot, fry gently for about two minutes. Return the meat to the pot and add the Guinness, beef stock and sugar. Bring to the boil. Cover, reduce the heat and cook slowly for around two hours. When the meat is tender, add salt and pepper to taste. Remove from the heat and pour into a round pie dish. Leave to cool. Preheat the oven to 180 °C. Roll out the pastry until it is about three millimetres thick. Cut a two-centimetre strip. Moisten the rim of the dish with water and press the strip around it. Create a lid for the pie by cutting the pastry slightly larger than the dish. Place the pastry lid over the top of the dish and close it by pressing down the edge. Crimp the edge with a fork or your fingers. Brush the top with the beaten egg, then cut a small cross in the centre so that steam can escape. Bake for 30–35 minutes, or until the pastry is crisp and golden. Serve with creamy mashed potatoes and green vegetables.