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Stew beauty

Irish stew, the most traditional of dishes, was never known as anything other than an old-fashioned winter dinner staple. Until now.Michael Freeman went along to the inaugural World Irish Stew Championship to see how the experts do it

Judge Feargal O'Donnell watches eventual winner Janet Devin prepare her stew

Janet with her prize-winning dish

Ahmet Dede prepares Turkish flatbread to accompany his stew watched over by judge Ger Reidy

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'We've asked them to prepare and present a stew worthy of modern dining," says Joe Shannon. "So that leaves it wide open." He is a large, friendly man wearing a chef's outfit, complete with hat. "For side dishes, some of them are doing bread, some of them are doing some boxty. So it'll be interesting to see what happens here, by one o'clock when the competition finishes – what will be that winning dish." And what's the prize? "The prize is, you're going to be the first ever World Irish Stew Champion."

The inaugural World Irish Stew Championships are taking place in a catering college on the banks of Lough Gill, Co Sligo. Outside the long windows, the sunshine reflects from the water and Slieve Deane looms high on the south shore. Inside, there is an all-pervading smell of meat. The 10 finalists have just begun cooking. They have three hours to produce two portions of stew, which will be judged on a strict list of criteria including technique, presentation, flavour, texture and hygiene.

"I've been to an awful lot of Irish festivals around the world," says Joe, who is head chef at the Radisson hotel in nearby Rosses Point, and helped to organise the Só Sligo food festival of which the Championships are part. "And it amazed me that no matter what country you go to, they know what an Irish stew is. And I thought, well, we've never really honoured the dish that has brought us worldwide acclaim." So the Stew Championships were born.

Four judges prowl the aisle with clipboards as the finalists slice and pour. What are they looking for at this early stage? "Basic things," says local chef Ger Reidy. "Chopping skills, techniques, hygiene issues. Are they washing their hands after handling meat, are they using the right chopping boards? One girl put a hair bobbin down on the worktop – she'll be marked down for that. Only a point, but it could make the difference between winning and losing." He gestures to a teenage girl. "She's working well. She's in control."

The final is divided into professional and amateur divisions, with the amateurs – who, rules state, must never have cooked for money – first to take up utensils. Finalists, who range from 15 to 50, have travelled from as far as Wexford and Donegal. The championship's international dimension is a young Turkish man whose worktop proudly displays that country's national symbol, a tulip in a vase. Each competitor shows a menu card. The most ambitious stands out: Mint and Pear Irish Stew With Braised Endive Wrapped In Streaky Bacon. "I don't even know what an endive is," a rival finalist says sadly.

In order to get this far, the competitors each submitted their championship stew recipe to an organising panel, who whittled the entries down to the final 10. "We went through them to see which ones were workable," says Brid Torrades, a Sligo chef and restaurateur. "Some weren't very workable. Some of the recipes, the ingredients... People were putting in strange other ingredients that wouldn't have tasted nice."

As a dish, Irish stew is only about 200 years old; food experts seem to agree that it first began to be recognised as a dish sometime around 1800. (The first recorded written reference to it is in Lord Byron's 1812 poem The Devil's Drive, in which Lucifer eats "a rebel or so in an Irish stew".) Still, exactly what constitutes an Irish stew is a matter of some contention. Die-hard stew purists maintain it should contain only lamb, onion and potatoes: no carrots, no turnips, no nothing. Stew liberals allow for a greater range of ingredients. "It's actually quite controversial," Brid says. "People have strong ideas on it."

The panel decided on a formula to resolve this difficulty. Entrant recipes would have to contain a base of lamb, onion and potato. Beyond that, competitors could add whatever they liked.

Finalist Luke Conway, from Armagh, an engineer who builds custom-made seats for wheelchair users, is cooking the originalist's stew: lamb, potatoes and onions. "I spoke to my mum and we came up with the recipe," he says. "I come from a family of 10, and at home there were always pots of stew. So that's what I'm going with, just keeping it very traditional."

The youngest competitor is Andrea Cox, a transition year student from Falcarragh in Donegal whose home economics teacher drove her down. She has eaten a lot of stew recently. "This week it was yesterday, Tuesday, Monday, Sunday and Friday," she says. "Maybe, in a few years, I just might feel like making it again."

As the hours tick away, tension begins to infuse the atmosphere. The wafting meat odours gradually deepen into a rich, aromatic stew fug as steam rises from pots of all shapes and sizes. A man loitering cheerfully on the sidelines is the husband of Janet Devin, who is cooking a gluten free stew with red cabbage and potato-flour dumplings. He and their daughter Vanessa have driven all the way from Greystones to provide moral support. "We've been eating it for the last two weeks," he says.

When only 45 minutes remain, judge Gabriel McSharry delivers some encouragement. "You're all doing really, really well, so hang in there and do it to the best of your ability. Don't panic."

The finalist from Turkey, Ahmet Dede, is cheerfully sprinkling herbs. He is accompanying his stew with traditional Turkish flatbread. "My first introduction to Irish cooking," it says, "was during a number of memorable visits to Dublin after I met my future wife."

As one o'clock approaches, there is a flurry of tense activity. The contestants begin to serve up their creations. Stews are ladled out with painstaking care, daubed with sour cream and sprigged with herbs. Ahmet sculpts butter into perfect cones. Luke Conway forms his chopped parsley into a large green shamrock. There is silence in the room as the last cooking fan is switched off.

The contestants are evacuated from the kitchens for the judges' deliberations. They wait in a gaggle in the corridor to be called back in. Andrea chats brightly to the other finalists. Is she confident of her chances? "I don't think I'll say anything about that," she says, carefully. Janet sits nearby on a bench with her husband and daughter, head hanging. "I feel sick," she says. "I'm just so glad it's over."

The judges – four professional chefs – do not speak as they taste. Each pauses occasionally to scribble notes.

How does the science of stew-tasting work? "I first look at the consistency of the dish," explains judge Ger Reidy. "Is there enough liquid to the meat? Which I think is important in a stew. Secondly, I look at: how is the meat cooked? Is it cooked enough? Sometimes it can be tough. Or is it overcooked and it's breaking up? And the third thing is the seasoning and the flavours."

Innovation, chimes in Gabriel, is also valued. "Irish stew is one of the oldest Irish traditional dishes. And because it's so old, there are many interpretations of the dish. So in this World Championship, the emphasis was on the competitors to bring their ideas in – to produce what they thought was their best Irish stew."

Eventually, those competitors are called back in. They form a loose semicircle as Gabriel reads the announcement. "You should all have everything to be proud of," he says solemnly. And you've done a magnificent job and I'd like to pay the best of respect to you all."

"There could have been any number of winners, but unfortunately for this competition there is only one. The winner we have selected is candidate one zero three, Janet Devin. Congratulations."

There is a burst of applause from the 15 or so people in the large room. The defeated finalists are a mixture of smiles and frowns. Janet, who is immediately summoned to speak to an RTE camera for the Six One news, has a look of shell-shock. Her husband, however, wears a large grin.

There is a sense of anticlimax. Gradually, the contestants disperse to pack up their pots and make their way home. "I'm disappointed," says Luke. "Of course I am. But..." He shrugs ruefully. Ahmet poses for a photograph, holding a portion of his stew. Janet is leaning against a worktop, looking exhausted. Her daughter approaches and hands over a mobile phone. "Yvonne says congratulations and she'll watch the news tonight," she says. And then the newly crowned World Champion of Irish stew gathers up her family and her equipment and trudges off for the long drive home.