Name: Lucky Irish Ham and Cabbage Pie
Prep time: 30 min
Cook time: 45 min
Total time: 1 h 15 min
Yield: 6 servings
Cuisine: Irish
Ingredients: 1 ready-rolled shortcrust pie crust (I sometimes use a puff pastry base if that's what's in the fridge—shh); 1 and ½ cups cooked ham, shredded or chopped small, preferably leftovers, but thick-sliced deli ham works in a pinch; ½ head of green cabbage, sliced fairly thin (normally about 3 cups; don’t stress the measurements too much); 1 big onion, chopped (red or yellow—honestly, I grab whatever's rolling around in the veg drawer); 2 medium carrots, diced (or swap for a cup of frozen peas if no carrots in sight); 2 tablespoons butter (unsalted, but salty is fine if that’s all you have); 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour (self-raising is okay, but you won’t need the pie to rise); 1 cup milk (whole is best, but I’ve snuck in semi-skimmed and it’s survived); ½ cup chicken broth (or water—chicken bouillon cube in a cup of hot water works just as well, maybe better in a bind!); 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard (my grandmother swore by Coleman's, but any mustard will do); ½ teaspoon black pepper (more if you’re feeling feisty); 1 teaspoon dried thyme (I sometimes toss in a bit of rosemary too, if there’s a sprig left over); Pinch of salt (careful if your ham’s salty); 1 egg, beaten, for glazing (optional, but shiny crust is quite fetching)

This Pie Might Just Bring You Luck (Or at Least a Full Belly)

Honestly, I don’t even remember the first time I threw together this Lucky Irish Ham and Cabbage Pie—probably one random Tuesday before St. Patrick’s Day, scrambling to use up leftovers while thinking, "How can I stretch half a cabbage and that hunk of ham?" But now, it’s sort of our family’s post-holiday cure-all. My aunt Nora once called it a “miracle in a crust,” though she might have had a pint in hand at the time. Don’t expect this to look as pretty as something from a magazine, but wow does it land you right in comfort food heaven.

Why You'll Love This Pie (Or At Least Why I Do)

I make this when cold wind sneaks in through the window and I can’t quite remember where I’ve put my wool socks. My family goes a bit nuts for this because it’s hearty without being too heavy—which means you can still move after dinner. If you’ve ever wished your cabbage and ham dinner could, well, literally hold itself together, you’ll be over the moon. (Oh, and sometimes I get annoyed at pie crusts shrinking in the oven, but with this one, it’s honestly forgiving. If the crust cracks? Who cares!)

What Goes In (And Some of What Doesn’t Have To)

1 ready-rolled shortcrust pie crust (I sometimes use a puff pastry base if that's what's in the fridge—shh)
1 and ½ cups cooked ham, shredded or chopped small, preferably leftovers, but thick-sliced deli ham works in a pinch
½ head of green cabbage, sliced fairly thin (normally about 3 cups; don’t stress the measurements too much)
1 big onion, chopped (red or yellow—honestly, I grab whatever's rolling around in the veg drawer)
2 medium carrots, diced (or swap for a cup of frozen peas if no carrots in sight)
2 tablespoons butter (unsalted, but salty is fine if that’s all you have)
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour (self-raising is okay, but you won’t need the pie to rise)
1 cup milk (whole is best, but I’ve snuck in semi-skimmed and it’s survived)
½ cup chicken broth (or water—chicken bouillon cube in a cup of hot water works just as well, maybe better in a bind!)
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard (my grandmother swore by Coleman's, but any mustard will do)
½ teaspoon black pepper (more if you’re feeling feisty)
1 teaspoon dried thyme (I sometimes toss in a bit of rosemary too, if there’s a sprig left over)
Pinch of salt (careful if your ham’s salty)
1 egg, beaten, for glazing (optional, but shiny crust is quite fetching)

Let’s Get Pie-ing (A Step-by-Step... Sort Of)

Preheat the oven to 200°C (about 400°F), or as hot as your oven actually gets if it’s a bit wonky. Roll out the pastry and line a 9-inch pie dish. I prick the base here—some folks don't, but mine always rose in the middle like some sort of bread monster if I didn't.
In a big frying pan, melt the butter over medium heat. Toss in your chopped onion and carrot. Stir until they're soft and the kitchen starts to smell like home—about 6 minutes, give or take. (This is when I usually sneak a nibble of ham, “for quality control.”)
Dump the sliced cabbage in. Don’t worry if the pan looks ridiculously full—it wilts. Let it cook down for about 8 minutes, stirring now and then so nothing gets too burnt or too soggy. A little crispies on the bottom? That’s flavor, friend.
Sprinkle in the flour, give it a good stir (and don’t panic if it clumps—it smooths out), then pour in the milk and broth slowly. Keep stirring, and don’t wander off, or it’ll find a way to stick. It should turn into a thick-ish, creamy mess.
Add the ham, mustard, pepper, thyme, and a cautious pinch of salt. Stir it all together—filling should look like something you’d want to eat with a spoon; if it’s runny, simmer for another couple of minutes. If it’s too thick, a splash more milk sorts it.
Tip the mixture into the crust, smoothing it out (I sometimes eat a spoonful straight from the pan, no shame). Lay another sheet of pastry on top, trim, pinch, and crimp the edges. Cut a little slit in the top; lets the steam out. Brush with beaten egg if you want your pie to look glossy, or skip it entirely if you're feeling rustic.
Bake for 30-35 minutes, until the top is golden and you catch yourself hovering by the oven. If the edges look like they're browning too quick, cover them with foil—unless you like a bit of char! Let it rest for about 10 minutes before slicing, though who actually manages that?

Notes (Learned the Messy Way)

If you overfill the crust, it will absolutely bubble over, so maybe put a tray underneath—speaking form experience here, haha.
I once tried skipping the flour step and just dumping it all in. Not recommended—runny disaster.
Cabbage looks weird halfway through cooking. Just trust the process; it's a bit like watching socks tumble in the dryer.

Oddball Variations I’ve Tried (Some Winners, Some... Not)

Cheesy Pie: Sprinkle a handful of sharp cheddar inside with the filling. Melty, gooey magic.
Vegetarian (well, almost): Swap out the ham for mushrooms and a bit more butter. Actually, my mate Seamus hated this one, but I liked it!
I tried making it with sweet potato instead of regular, and honestly... didn't love it. Stick to carrot or peas if you ask me.

Needed Kit (But If You Don’t Have It...)

You’ll want a pie dish, but one time I just used a deep cake tin (I know, sacrilege). A rolling pin is handy for the pastry but a wine bottle does in a pinch. If all else fails, just pat the dough in with your hands—a bit rustic, but it works.

How To Store It (If That’s Even an Issue)

Wrap up leftovers in foil and stash in the fridge; it’s fine for two days. I think it tastes even better next day, not that it often lasts long enough to find out. Freezes alright, though crust might get a bit soggy-on-thaw, just so you know.

If You Serve It My Way…

I love it with hot English mustard on the side or a splash of brown sauce (my dad's weird tradition). Sometimes, a pile of mashed spuds and a pint of ale seems like the only reasonable accompaniment. But you do you!

Pro Tips (Or Lessons Learned From Many Pie Mishaps)

I once tried to rush the cooling time—don’t do it, unless you like burning your tongue and watching the filling slop out.
Pie crust tears? Pinch it together and pretend it’s a vent. Actually, sometimes the ugliest pies are the tastiest.

FAQ (Answers to Things Real People Have Asked Me—Seriously!)

Can I make it ahead? Yep! Bake, cool, and reheat in the oven. Actually, I think the flavors settle nicely overnight.
What’s the best ham to use? Leftover roast ham, hands down; deli ham works when there’s nowt else. (I once used bacon rashers—tasted fine but needed more salt.)
Do I have to blind bake the crust? I never bother, honestly. If you’re fussy about soggy bottoms, maybe go for it, but I like mine a bit soft.
I forgot the egg wash—is it ruined? Not even a little! The crust just won’t shine and shimmer. Still tastes grand.
Anything I can throw in to make it spicy? A bit of mustard powder or a shake of chili flakes—it’s your pie now!

(Also, quick story—once made this while distracted by the neighbor’s cat stuck in our shed. Recipe still turned out alright, though I completely forgot the thyme. Just goes to show: it’s hard to ruin this one.)

Lucky Irish Ham and Cabbage Pie