Subscribe
Share
Share
Embed
At Beer and Iron, we’re here to rescue comfort food from the ordinary – armed with a trusty cast iron pot, a bottle of beer, and a whole lot of rustic charm. We blend bold flavors, real-life stories, and a dash of kitchen mischief to serve up meals that are as fun to make as they are to eat. We’ll bring honest cooking, hearty laughs, and recipes that’ll have you saying, “I can totally make that!” Whether you’re cooking over a campfire or your kitchen stove, we’re all about turning everyday meals into legendary bites, with a little help from our favorite brew and the timeless magic of cast iron.
This is the spirit of Beer and Iron (pun intended).
Adding beer to a recipe brings a host of culinary perks – it boosts flavor, improves texture, and adds an inviting aroma, all thanks to beer’s unique blend of alcohol, water, sugars, acids, and those signature bitter notes. Honestly, it’s the secret ingredient that’ll have your meal brewing with deliciousness!
Beer and Iron moves past the traditional Irish Beef and Guinness Stew. We’ll transform all kinds of dishes with beer as an ingredient to bring out those bold flavors, tender textures, and just add a little palate pleasing magic to each bite. Whether it’s a splash of a smooth porter in your stew, a dash of bock in your bread, or a generous pour of marzen in your marinade, beer’s unique mix of ingredients works wonders beyond what you’d expect. So, get ready to see your favorite comfort foods take on new life, all thanks to a humble bottle of brew and the magic of your trusty cast iron pot.
Welcome to Beer and Iron, where we talk about real cast iron cooking and share recipes with beer as an ingredient.
Grab a beer set that cast iron on the heat and prepare to flip your expectations. We're serving up tales and recipes that are well seasoned and never half baked. I'm Sulae Brew and Stew maestro here to share a story, cook something worth savoring, and turn your plate into a celebration of flavor and folklore.
Before we move into the story and recipe, I want to mention that this episode marks the end of season one of the Beer and Iron Podcast. Closer to the fall, season two will return with a tighter format and shorter stories that lead into the feature recipe. I'll also be sharing cast iron skills or techniques in each episode, something that's helped me become a better cast iron cook, both in the kitchen and out in camp.
I surely appreciate you being here with me for the stories, the cooking, and the cast iron goodness along the way. We ain't done. No, sir. No, ma'am. There's so much more to share. But today, let's close season one with a story worth remembering.
There are legends in every town. The kind that never make the paper but get told in garages, barbershops, and church basements. Where I grew up, one of the best was about Hopsie Mae Brewster and her cast iron Dutch oven.
That pot was a mean looking beauty three stubby legs, a black iron belly, and a lid heavy enough to demand both hands and a little respect. Hopsie Mae cooked the old way. Wood, charcoal and sheer stubbornness. And folks swore that that pot had been seasoned with everything from bacon grease to the foam off her first home brew.
She wasn't a big woman, but she carried that Dutch oven like it weighed nothing. She brewed too... stout for drinking, porters for stew, and something sharp she called "Sunday Courage." She loved the Lord, loved her congregation, and showed both by feeding people until they softened around the eyes.
Every Sunday she walked into the church basement with the same casserole, creamy hash browns, tender chicken, a golden corn flake top that made folks skip breakfast on purpose. It was as expected as the final hymn and just about as beloved.
Then one winter, Hopsie Mae passed on. Her funeral was held on a Sunday. And after the service, the congregation drifted downstairs, quiet and unsure as how to face that long basement table without Hopsie Mae at the head of it.
And there it was, her Dutch oven sitting in its usual place, like it had arrived under its own power. No one claimed to have carried it in. No one said they'd seen who'd set it there. For a moment, nobody wanted to touch it.
Finally, the preacher lifted the lid. Steam rolled out, smelling like butter, pepper, and something faintly malty. Inside was Hopsie Mae's casserole, bubbling, browned and perfect like she had just stepped out for one last errand.
So they did what Hopsie Mae would have wanted most. They ate. The preacher took the first scoop. Then everyone else followed. Some polite, some generous, and old Barley Hopper scraping the browned edges like they were treasure.
When the last bite was gone, the Dutch oven still sat warm on the table, as if pleased with itself. Some say a neighbor made the casserole in her honor. Others say the old pot simply wasn't ready to retire. But around Beer and Iron, we know the better version.
Hopsie Mae Brewster wasn't about to let her last Sunday pass without feeding her people. And maybe that's why, whenever someone bakes her casserole now, the kitchen feels a little warmer than it ought to.... like an old Dutch oven is standing nearby, nodding its approval.
Now let's make this casserole the last casserole of Hopsie Mae Brewster, also known as the Funeral Casserole.
Now, if you're thinking a casserole that good ought to come with instructions, you're in luck. Hopsie Mae may have taken a few secrets with her, but this one still knows how to find its way into the Dutch oven. And if you ask me, that's exactly where it belongs.
What you're making here is also known as the Chicken and Hash Brown Cornflake Funeral Casserole. That's a long name for something that's going to disappear so fast. It's creamy, savory, and just old fashioned enough to feel right. And that buttered cornflake top gives it a crunch that keeps folks scraping the corners.
You'll want green onions, two cans of cream of chicken soup, sour cream, shredded cheddar, a little dried onion, salt, pepper, about three cups of cooked chicken, a whole chicken breast, if you will, a big bag of thawed hash browns, some crushed corn flakes, and a few spoonfuls of melted butter.
Now, if you've got a beer brine roasted chicken, that's a mighty fine place to use it. If not, a good rotisserie bird will do the job just fine.
For the outdoor version, use a deep twelve inch camp cast iron Dutch oven. First, get your charcoal going until it's mostly ashed over and ready. While that heats up, set aside a few spoonfuls of sliced green onion for the top. Then, in a large bowl, mix the rest of the green onions with the cream of chicken soup, sour cream, cheddar, dried onion, salt, pepper, the cooked chicken all chopped up, and the shredded hash browns. Stir it all up until everything is well combined.
Give the inside of your Dutch oven a light oiling, and then spoon the casserole mixture and spread it into an even layer. In a smaller bowl, stir the crushed corn flakes with the melted butter until every flake has a little bit of a shine on it. Then scatter that over the top and put the lid back on your Dutch oven.
Set the Dutch oven up for baking with about seven briquettes underneath the Dutch oven and fourteen briquettes on the lid. That'll put you in the neighborhood of around 350°F / 175°C. Let it bake for around fifty to sixty minutes until the edges are bubbling, the center is hot through, and that corn flake top has gone golden and handsome.
Once it's baked, let it rest for around ten minutes before serving, and then garnish it with those green onions you set aside earlier.
And if you don't feel like writing all this down, no worries. There's a printable version of this recipe, and the kitchen version too, waiting for you at beerandiron.com.
Here's the cast iron part that matters most. This is a long bake, and a long bake requires a steady heat. About every 10 to 15 minutes. Turn the entire Dutch oven one way, about a third of a turn, and then turn just the lid the other direction about a third of the turn. That simple little dance helps even out the hot spots, so one side doesn't brown too hard while the other side lags behind.
If the top is getting too dark, pull off a couple of the charcoal briquettes from the lid. If the weather is windy, cold, or your fire is losing strength, add a few fresh hot briquettes and keep going. And because this casserole is likely going to bake fifty to sixty minutes, I'd suggest planning ahead with a second batch of charcoal. Start a fresh batch about fifteen to twenty minutes into the cook, so you've got a good, strong, steady heat around the halfway point if you need it.
That one little habit right there will make your camp baking a whole lot more dependable.
Now, if the weather turns sour, or you'd rather keep this whole operation closer to the sink and farther from the charcoal. The kitchen version is easy enough. Use a deep 12 inch cast iron skillet, mix the filling in the same way and spread it into the buttered or lightly oiled skillet. Top it with buttered corn flakes and bake it in a 350°F / 175°C degree oven until it's hot and bubbling and the top is browned up real nice. This usually takes around forty five minutes to an hour. That also depends on the depth of your skillet and how cold your ingredients were going in.
Let it sit a spell before serving. Same as the outdoor version. No coals, no lid lifter, no ash to brush away. Just the same comfort in a form that suits a kitchen better than a camp chair.
However, you make it out in the coals in a Dutch oven or in the kitchen with oven light glowing, this is still Hopsie Mae's kind of food. It's meant for gathering, for passing, for second helpings, and for the sort of table where people linger longer than they meant to. And if the room feels a little warmer than it ought to... Well, I wouldn't argue with it.
And there you have it. Chicken and Hash Brown Corn Flake Funeral Casserole ready for your table, whether you bake it out by the coals or in the kitchen close to home. If you make it, I'd love to hear how it turned out. You can find the printable recipe and more over at beerandiron.com; and you're always welcome at our table.
Thank you for listening through this first season of beerandiron.com. I surely appreciate you being here for the stories, the food, and all the cast iron goodness along the way. We'll let the fire settle for a while. Yes we will, but come fall will gather back around again. Until then, keep your cast iron hot, your beer cold, and your table open for one more. I'll see y'all when season two rolls in at beerandiron.com.