Jims Jiggs Dinner

​Step into a Newfoundland kitchen on a Sunday afternoon, and you’re likely to find a pot of Jiggs dinner simmering on the stove — a dish so entwined with the island’s culture that it’s practically part of the family. Salty meat, hearty vegetables, and something simply called “greens” all stewing together in this regionally iconic meal.

    A one-pot wonder whose origins arrived here along with the first Irish and English settlers, who brought with them their traditional boiled meals. Over time, these meals morphed to include ingredients that could be found or foraged locally.

     For one of the most iconic dishes on the island, trying to track down the origin of its name is a rabbit hole of legends lost in time. One theory suggests that Jiggs Dinner was a typical dish served at infamous island kitchen parties where locals would dance or Jig and party the night away. Other sources allude to cultural influence and suggest it was a side effect of a widely popular comic strip, Bringing Up Father, that had an incredible run from 1913 to 2000! The main character Jigg, a working-class man of Irish descent, wins the lottery, but to the dismay of his wife, he refuses to give up his casual dress and love of a traditional fare of corned beef and cabbage. This meal would have resonated with many of the working class of the 1900’s and so it stuck. 

    Lucky for me, the original Jigg wasn’t the only character of inspiration around here. This land of colorful accents, interesting sayings, and unique traditions is full of characters, and I was able to land a dinner invitation with a Newfoundlander who could inspire a comic strip of his own, Jim Mercer.

    A man in his 50’s with a love of the outdoors, Jim spends most of his time down on the Gander River acting as a hunting and fishing guide. To give his guests a cultural taste of Newfoundland, the Jiggs dinner, cooked by Jim, is a memorable meal he serves to outsiders during their stay.

   Jim is what you might call a talker. He talks with his mouth, he talks with his hands, and he sometimes fills in your sentence to speed things along. He likes to tell stories, he likes to ask questions, and sometimes he even likes to answer them. A Sunday dinner at Jim's was as entertaining as it was educational. 

   Today feast is being served at Jim’s grandparents' house in Bay Roberts. Built in 1929, this quaint home of weathered wood, antique furniture, and rain running down the steamy single-pane windows is the perfect setting for such an occasion.

    On the counter, Jim has the ingredients laid out for dinner. I see some salt pork, dried peas, a mix of root vegetables, and a large bag of a leafy mix simply labeled “greens”. Jim starts to walk me through the process; He has roughly five pounds of salt pork that has been rinsed, and it’s first to go into the pot. From here, he takes three cups of yellow peas that have been soaking overnight and puts them into what looks like a small burlap coffee sack about the size of a bag of Spitz Sunflower Seeds. This sack of peas is referred to as “pease pudding”. Next, in goes an onion and onto the stove.

 
​Just then, there is a knock at the door, and to the delight of my host, a couple of men about Jim's age scurry in from the rain. I’ve come to realize that every house I’ve been in on the island seems to have an open-door policy. Actually, I’m not sure if anyone uses the lock on their front door at all.
​
​ Kevin, a long-time fishing and hockey buddy of Jims, walks in along with his friend Moe, not surprisingly, both have just come back from fishing themselves. 

   Things instantly segway into a series of Newfoundland expressions I can’t follow, so I smile and nod, and soon Jim asks Kevin if he’s staying for supper. 
Kevin says no, his wife has supper cooking at home. 
In true Newfoundland fashion, Jim replies; Ohh, Fish and Brews? Assuming that they are having another regionally iconic dish, Fish and Brews.
 Then Jim asks how his wife, Betty, is doing? 
Kevin replies: Fair Straight. 
Jim stops the conversation, knowing that I have no idea what that meant, and gets Kevin to explain to me; Fair Straight. 
Translated to mainland English, Fair Straight means that everything is mostly running smoothly. A couple of little turns in direction, but overall straight ahead like a boat in the water without much wind to blow it around. 
    I grab my phone and make some notes so I can try to accurately use this expression later.

    The boys chat and ask what I’m up to while Jim pulls out a bottle of peach fruit wine, asking who wants a drink. When the boys stall, he explains that it was made by his friend Mark Shortall. I’m assuming Mark is a manly man friend of theirs, as if to give the fruity bottle some testosterone legitimacy. The boys look at each other and agree that they're having a beer🙂 

   After a bit of friendly banter, our attention shifts back to the pot where Jim’s adding in an organic turnip from another friend's garden somewhere in the neighbourhood. Then, as suddenly as the mood changed when the front door opened, it shifted again as a mini kitchen party kicks off.

    Not just hockey and fishing, Kevin's musical talent is worth sticking around for a second beer! After a bit of encouragement, Kevin grabs a pair of spoons on the table and starts to play. With a bit of a beat to go off of, Jim then takes a long, deep breath as if to channel his inner baritone, then starts to sing. The low bass of a Newfoundland classic fills the air as Jim amplifies the room with the chorus to the song Music and Friends. A Folk/Celtic mix released by the group Simani on their 80s album Homebrew, which was wildly popular here on The Rock.

     I’ve cooked thousands of meals in thousands of kitchens, but this song and spoon routine was better than any aperitif I’ve ever enjoyed. They wrap up after a couple of minutes so Jim can add some carrots and cabbage leaf to the pot before the boys dive into one more wall-echoing round of Music and friends… It’s so good to bring together music and friends… Music and friends…

   By now, a couple of hours have passed, and Jim pulls back the lid of the pot to release the steamy, salted air. He pulls up the bag of peas, delighted to see that it has “blow’d up”, he then stops to spell it out for me to ensure I’m getting the local expressions accurate. Then he dips a spoon into the pot like he’s made it to the final round of Master Chef to check the flavor profile. Jim tries it, but remains pokerfaced so as not to influence anyone else’s opinion, then passes a spoon to Kevin. 
 
   Kevin's face lights up like he’s about to present Jim with the $250,000 grand prize.  Reassuring for me, as Kevin has probably been eating this dish his entire life. Jim appears satisfied with the look on Kevin's face, allows himself a quick, satisfactory smile, and continues with the next layer by adding whole, peeled, russet potatoes into the mix.

    The boys finish their beer and check the time, realizing they’re going to be late for their own supper, they wish me luck with my first Jiggs dinner, and hit the road. Then, Jim grabs the final ingredient. This large yellow and red mystery bag of “greens” that has been sitting upright on the counter all afternoon. 

   Looking at the pot, we had roughly twice as many greens as we do space to put them. Slowly, Jim starts to add the greens, and slowly they start to cook down and shrink in size. As we do this, Jim points out two things: One, there is not a pinch of seasoning added, as the salt from the meat takes care of that, and the rest of the flavour comes from the vegetables. Two, so that I don’t get too hung up on this being the be-all end-all recipe for this dish, that depending on whose house I might stumble into on a Sunday, the Jiggs dinner could be made with Turr, a black meat saltwater duck, grouse, chicken, turkey, or corned beef. Then, little by little, the entire two-pound greens bag slowly shrinks until the bag is empty and the pot is full.

​To get some clarity on what this ingredient was exactly, I contacted the company, Taylors Gardens.
This was their explanation: 
“Hey Kix, so years ago what people ate as “greens” were actually turnip tops, the leafy part that grows on a turnip. Nowadays, greens come from dwarf Essex rape seed. You set the seeds in the late spring and cut them when they reach a certain height. They grow big enough in roughly 4 weeks, depending on the weather.”

   Just as the bag emptied, the house began to fill back up. This time, the back door opened and in came Jim's sister, Sandy, along with her family. It looks like we are having a family feast after all. Sandy made her introductions, then went right to checking over Jim's creation. Then asked; Did you make dumplings or a duff? 

   Realizing there was neither and wanting to ensure an accurate representation of the full family dining experience, Sandy quickly goes through the cupboards and fridge searching out ingredients and decides on a blueberry duff made from some fresh seasonal blueberries.

   The timing was perfect, and as Jim's Jiggs dinner was in its final simmering stages of the three-hour cook, the duff could be prepared and cooked on top, and everything could be served at once.

   Sandy explains that the size of the duff depends on the size of your pot. The rounder the pot, the bigger the duff, and we are going to be cooking the duff right on top of the dinner! In this pot, there is enough room for a pie plate, and so, it's a pie plate sized duff. 

   Sandy points out that it's important that the pan is a bit smaller than the pot and has a lip on it to prevent liquid from getting in. As well, the lip allows you to have something to grab to get it out of the pot after. 

   This bonus cooking class ensues, and I watch as Sandy quickly mixes up butter, sugar, baking powder, flour, an egg, a bit of milk, and the blueberries. I don’t think she has been here for ten minutes, and the duff dough is in a buttered pie pan, carefully rested right on top of the simmering dinner for fifteen minutes. An impressive use of resources, where the energy of the dinner is used to cook the side dish.

   Finally, it’s ready and in a series of reverse engineering that unassembles like wooden Russian dolls, off the top comes the steamed blueberry duff. Then a spoon is used to remove the greens into one dish, out comes the bag of pease pudding, the layer of cooked vegetables, and finally the tender bits of meat from the bottom. 

   I’m most interested to see what has been going on inside the pease pudding bag. Jim grabs it and delicately turns the bag inside out while trying to avoid melting his fingertips. Out comes this vibrant yellow spread that resembles coarse hummus that has soaked up all the flavours of the pot, incredible!

    What's left is a liquid so vital to the transformation of your next dish that it is given a name akin to a top-shelf cocktail mix reserved for the most noble of concoctions, the Pot Liquor. All that sweet, beautiful, fragrant broth that has been alchemizing for hours now rests, awaiting its final transformation; in this case, it's added to the couldn’ts 

   Again, Jim looks at my face to see if I’m following, and judging by my blank stare, he explains couldn'ts. A term I might know as leftovers, couldn'ts are what couldn’t be finished at dinner and become another meal the next day. If added to the incredible pot liquor, it might become a soup or stew savoured throughout the week. 

    With rain rolling down the steamy windows, the smell of stewed salt pork filling the air, and the faint sounds of music and friends still echoing in this hundred year old house, we all sit down for an iconic Jiggs Dinner in a setting as symbolic and memorable as the dish itself. 

Recipe: 

• 5 lbs cured pork riblets
• 3 cups yellow peas
• 1 large turnip
• 2 lbs of carrots
• 1 lb cabbage leaves
• 3 lb russet potatoes
• 2 lbs Taylor's Greens

Rinse the cured pork, then place it in the pot and fill halfway to the top with water and bring to a boil.
Once boiling, reduce the heat to a simmer.
Then add three cups of yellow peas (that have been rinsed several times and left to soak overnight) into the pease pudding bag. Seal the bag and place it into the pot along with one whole yellow onion.
Allow these ingredients to simmer for an hour.
Next, add in the turnip which you will cut into large cubes, then the peeled carrots that will be cut in half horizontally, potatoes, and finally the cabbage leaf. Allow this to simmer for another hour.
There should be just enough water to cover everything as you go. If not, top it off.

10-15 minutes before it's done, start to add in the greens until they cook down and make room for the duff. 

Duff:

• 2 tbsp of  margarine or butter
• ¼ cup of sugar
• 1 egg
  
• ½ tsp vanilla
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 3/4-1 cup of flour.
• ¼ cup of blueberries, raisins, or other berries 

In one bowl, mix the dry flour and baking powder ingredients first. 
In a separate bowl, mix by hand the melted butter, sugar, and vanilla. 
Once the wet ingredients are combined, mix in the egg.
Then mix everything until it has the consistency of cake batter and finish by stirring in the berries. 
If the mix is too thick, mix in a touch of milk or water.


Pour the ingredients into a buttered pie plate or something similar that will fit inside your pot. Gently place the mix on top of the simmering Jiggs Dinner to allow it to steam for roughly 15 minutes until it's moist, soft, and cooked.

*Like nearly every recipe in this book, what ingredients were used at your friend's kitchen party, vs what was used here, vs what you might have on hand, can and do vary widely. Focus more on the fun and less on the details.

Best served at your next kitchen party or after a day of cod fishing in the rain alongside a couple of spoons with music and friends 🙂