Beans Of All Colors

We added two more beds to the vegetable garden this year. Even though I got a late start the plants grew wild and bushy (and drooping with fruit) while I was out of town this last time (James calls it "The Heart of Darkness"). So wild it's almost hard to find the edible bits, but with a little searching I have the garden I've always wanted. I can walk out to the beds, find enough beans for dinner and come in and cook them. So fresh so tender they don't need any enhancement. A little salt, a drizzle of olive oil and dinner is served.

Black Bean Tacos

There is a little stand at the farmer's market near us that sells what James calls the "best popcorn in the world." Unpopped red, yellow, and blue kernels I take home and pop in olive oil with plenty of chrunchy Maldon salt for an afternoon snack. I can't figure out how it can be so delicious.
Tierra vegetables grows, not just popcorn but all manner of heirloom corn for flour and popping and even a bit for eating fresh. Last time while waiting to pay I noticed something new -- homemade tortillas fashioned from heirloom green corn meal. Not the usual pale yellow or even speckled white these are dark greenish brown -- not like any tortillas I've seen before . . . so of course I couldn't resist them.
I snapped up a bag and as I drove home decided on a dinner of canned black beans simmered with chili powder, garlic, cumin, olive oil and chicken broth topped with a cabbage, cilantro, onion and carrot salad simply dressed with lime juice and creamy avocado (with a little more lime and salt) served on top of pan toasted heirloom tortillas. Heirloom perfection.

Some Beans Really Are Better

Jame loves beans. Every so often I'll cook up a pot for quick meals, to fill the freezer, or to have on hand for a simple one bowl dinner with brown rice and sautéed veggies.
Sometime I use a little pork to flavor the pot but lately I've been cooking our beans with just a splash of olive oil, a whole head of garlic (cut in half), a peeled quartered onion, 2 bay leaves, about 5 whole peppercorns, a sprig of rosemary and chopped fresh sage leaves. With water to cover, the whole pot comes to a boil and then is left to simmer until the pre-soaked beans are tender, usually about 40 minutes or so. The flavorful results are great to eat on their own or have on hand to use in salads, spreads and stews.
Today I reached back in the cabinet for a pound of Rancho Gordo Good Mother Stallard Beans. Rancho Gordo is a Napa, CA heirloom bean grower and food merchant that for many years has been spreading the gospel of heirloom flavors, local agriculture, and seed saving. With flashy graphics and clever copy their little bags are eye-catching at the market or on grocery shelves and sometimes when I am feeling rich or reckless (they are about $6 a pound) I reach for one. The rich, deep, vegetative flavor puts other beans to shame. James said -- without prompting or knowing about my bean buying extravagance -- that these might be the best pot of beans I ever made.
To paraphrase a certain pizza chain owner -- better ingredients, better beans -- so much for the bulk bin.

Broccoli and Beans

A simple sauté of vegetables and beans with a familiar family secret -- anchovies. I started in the usual way; a pan with warming olive oil and chopped garlic. For extra flavor I added in about 6 anchovy filets and a dash of crushed red peppers. I stirred as the pan warmed to dissolve the anchovies into the oil and then added in broccoli florets. After 5 minutes or so the broccoli was bright green and crisp. I added in some pre-cooked beans (these were borlotti I had in the fridge) about 1/2 cup of water and brought everything to a simmer. After 5 minutes the broccoli was tender and ready to serve over warm goat cheese polenta and a sprinkling of parmesan cheese for a hearty spring supper.

It Started With Sauce

I spent Friday bubbling a deep red meaty sauce. Served it again over spaghetti last night and tucked the rest in the freezer for a future dinner. Then I was left with the braised meat that had flavored the sauce. Thick meaty pork ribs and sauce poached sausage.
Those tender ribs would be perfect as accents in a hearty bowl of bean soup.
First I sautéed 2 chopped onions in a pot of olive oil. After about 5 minutes I added in 4 minced cloves of garlic and let everything sauté. Next I poured in a pound of quick soaked beans (beans covered in 2 inches of water brought just to a boil and allowed to soak in the hot water for an hour), 1 bay leaf, 2 quarts of water, 5 cups of chicken broth, several crushed chiles, a good sized piece of parmesan cheese rind I had tucked away in the freezer for a day like today, S&P, and about 1 TB chopped rosemary. After simmering for 50 minutes the beans were tender. I tossed in a pile of potatoes cut into large cubes and 6 carrots peeled and sliced into thick disks. After 5 more minutes simmering I added in cubes of the cooked meat, sausage slices (the little bits of sauce still clinging on added a reddish tint and a savory boost to the stock) and chopped kale.
An unexpectedly big pot of soup (some times things just get out of hand). Dinner tonight, lunch tomorrow and plenty in the freezer for busy days to come from the sauce that keeps on giving.

Two Kinds Of Beans

A trip to the farmer's market and a vegetable dinner wasn't far behind. A bundle of fresh green beans instead of calling out for crisp cooking and  tangy lemony vinaigrette as they do in summer seemed to ask to be slow cooked until sweet and melt in your mouth tender. I started a pot with chopped onions, chopped carrots, crushed garlic cloves and olive oil. After about 5 minutes I added in the beans and a good sized pinch of salt. While the covered pot simmered I splashed in a little chicken broth here and there to make sure the beans didn't scorch. After 40 minutes what emerged was in no way a modern dish but comfort food from years gone by before haute cuisine gave vegetables a new identity and a new resilience on our plates.

Another market treat -- fresh shell beans, right from the pod. I dropped my shelled beans into a pot of boiling salted water with a smashed clove of garlic and one bay leaf. The beans simmered for about 30 minutes until tender and creamy. While still warm, inspired by Marcella Hazan's fresh bean salad, I dressed the beans with a vinaigrette of juice of one lemon (a beautiful shiny Meyer right off our tree), 1/4 cup olive oil, minced garlic, crushed red peppers, 2 anchovy filets, chopped parsley and S&P. I tossed the warm beans in the dressing along with a handful of fresh arugula and parmesan cheese. The arugula wilted slightly and soaked up the lemony dressing making a dish as good in summer and it is in late fall -- whenever fresh beans are ready for harvest.
Two Italian dishes, two types of beans one weekend dinner from our little kitchen in the valley.

Not Quite As Light

What's that saying about the best laid plans?
I started off with soaked beans, innocent enough. Big beautiful white beans not gathered from my garden or some tony farmer's market but plucked from the bins at The Napa Valley Olive Oil Company, a ramshackle Italian grocery in St Helena.  In addition to beautiful jugs of their own olive oil this hidden gem offers a small selection of cheese, meats and imported groceries. It's one of my favorite places. They have a new, show place store in Napa but I've never been and will probably never go. I'll stick to my fantasy life of mom and pop olive oil and casual pleasantries in Italian.
But back to my simple bean dish. I cooked the beans in simmering water with a head of garlic cut in half, sage, bay leaves, onion, and a pinch of chile until creamy and tender. In a separate pot I sautéed garlic and diced onion in olive oil and that's where I veered off path. Suddenly this simple virtuous vegetarian dish cried out for sausage. There was hot Italian sausage in our CSA box this month and before I knew it I was pan frying links along with the onions. When the sausage was just about cooked through I put it aside and added a few diced tomatoes to cook down into a flavorful sauce. Next went mounds of chopped kale picked fresh from the garden (still a little wet from washing). The kale wilted into the tasty oil and I let it cook until almost fully tender (about 15 minutes) and added in the drained beans, sliced sausage and gave everything a good stir to heat through. Topped with a drizzle of grated parmesan our simple dinner was hearty, rustic and filling if not exactly spa cuisine.

A Pot Of Beans, Green That Is

 Romano beans from the garden overgrown to welcome me home. I looked at those gangly 10 inch pods and thought -- braise. Braising will tenderize the pods and intensify the already hearty flavor. 

One of my favorite cooks and restaurants is Judy Rodgers and her legendary Zuni Cafe, a San Francisco culinary landmark. Like another well-known bay area cook Alice Waters, Rodgers long ago championed (though not as loudly as Waters) the virtues of exceptional and mostly local ingredients prepared simply for extraordinary fare. In her cookbook, The Zuni Cafe Cookbook, Rodgers brings new life -- despite the drab color -- to flavorful Romano beans by long cooking in just a bit of olive oil.

Maybe technically this isn't a braise as the only liquid (other than the oil) comes from the beans themselves, but in any case if you have a couple hours to spare the flavor is well worth the effort.

I tossed two pounds of beans with 1.4 cup of olive oil, salt and chili flakes. With the beans in a 6 quart pot I dropped 5 peeled garlic cloves on top then set the pot, covered, over the lowest possible heat. In the first 30 minutes I stirred the pot twice, and once again after the beans started to soften at around 45 minutes of cooking time. But then, as Rodgers advises, I left the beans to slowly cook checking every half an hour or so to make sure the pot wasn't scorching.

After about 2 1/2 hours even my gigantic Romanos were tender and limp. A shocking dish for anyone raised to accept modern cusine's tyranny of al dente vegetables but homey and delightful served over warm stone ground grits (I did just get back from North carolina after all) on a crisp summer night.

Apple Cake and Giant Beans

I've been away for a couple weeks and the garden, well watered and tended by James, offered up a huge crop of Romano beans. Huge crop and huge beans. I scurried out to gather up our bounty with dreams of Zuni cafe style long braised beans in my head.

Inside the offerings were -- let's kindly say -- less bountiful. A thorough search rounded up a handful of lonely Gravenstein apples, a couple plums, butter from the freezer and milk just about to turn. I don't know about anyone else but to me that collection says "cake!"

I started by mixing up 2 sticks of melted butter and 4 eggs with 1 1/2 cups of brown sugar and a splash of my favorite flavoring -- bourbon. James loves the hearty flavor of brown sugar and a whisper of Kentucky whiskey seems to bring out the rich caramel notes.
To the liquid ingredients I added in 2 1/2 cups AP flour, 2 tsp baking powder, 3/4 tsp baking soda, 1 tsp cinnamon and 1/2 tsp nutmeg all mixed together.
When the batter was just mixed (too much mixing makes for a tough cake) I added in chopped apples and plums along with a couple handfuls of the chopped pecans stored in our freezer. After 55 minutes in a 350 degree oven I had a beautiful golden brown bundt that made clever use of our leftover, seemingly unloved fruit. I let the cake cool for 15 minutes in the pan and then cool completely on a rack. Thanks to the new coconut oil spray I found at Trader Joe's this bundt cake practically slipped out of the pan -- removing the only anxiety ever associated with a bundt cake.
When my beautiful cake cooled I poured on a thin glaze of powdered sugar thinned with bourbon and milk.
A easy seasonal welcome home cake.

New Year's Day Belated

I'm not sure when it started but I always eat black eyed peas on New Year's Day. Sure, it's an age old Southern tradition but honestly I don't remember my family growing up eating black-eyed peas on New Year's or any other day. I'm not sure where the tradition came from or when I started but I do know -- though I am hardly what anyone would call superstitious -- I never start a year without cowpeas, usually mixed up with rice and salt pork for hoppin' John. I do love hoppin' John . . . maybe that's why I started, a simple convenient excuse to eat something delicious.
In any case though I was traveling New Year's day I wanted to start 2013 with my beloved black-eyed peas. James and I postponed our holiday dinner until today. Instead of my usual rice and cowpeas dish I opted for a most un-Southern Greek style vegetarian stew flavored with tomato paste, onions, garlic, chili peppers, celery and carrots.
The chopped vegetables sauté in an ample amount of olive oil until soft -- about 5 minutes. Next I added in half a jar of homemade tomato sauce (I happened to have some in the fridge), tomato paste dissolved in water, chopped garlic, fresh black-eyed peas, and water to cover. I brought the mixture to a boil and allowed the stew to simmer, covered for 30 minutes. After tasting for seasoning and adding S&P the stew simmered covered for another 20 minutes. To finish our New Year's dish I tossed in two small handfuls of fregola, the toasted Sardinian pasta (but any small shape -- orzo maybe -- would have been fine), The stew cooked for another 10 minutes or so on medium high heat until the beans and the pasta were tender and ready to serve.
Feta would have been ideal to top this vegetarian stew -- but the next best thing -- at least in our fridge, was Ricotta Salata, a delicious aged salty version the cheese most of us know as a creamy filling for lasagna.
I suppose that Southern New Year's Day is never too far away -- alongside James' healthful tomatoey stew -- pan fried slices of crispy, fatty, salty, ham. A great way to start.
Happy New Year one and all.

Christmas Hambone

With all the rain we've been having the internet has been so slow I couldn't even post James' slow cooking dinner last night. While it rained outside our Christmas hambone helped cook up a savory pot of beans flavored with apple cider. I brought soaked beans, water, apple cider, the hambone, 1 quartered yellow onion, fresh thyme, fresh sage leaves, carrots (because I had them and because I though the sweetness would play well off the cider), bay leaves, chili flakes, and plenty of cracked black pepper to a boil and then allowed the pot to simmer and bubble until the beans were tender -- tasting and adding salt along the way. A great way to stay warm and toasty while it storms outside.

Cotechino and Beans

Usually served on a bed of braised lentils, cotechino sausage is an Italian New Year's Eve tradition, originally from the ancient town of Modena but now spread throughout the country. Eating the thick, round (coin shaped) slices if thought to bring good luck and good fortune in the new year. It's never too soon for fortune and good luck so when I saw a nice plump cotechino on the shelf I decided to bring it home and serve it up.
There were plenty of lentils in the pantry and polenta too -- another traditional accompaniment. But we had aplenty of fresh beans, north shell and green waiting to be picked so I decided on a sauté of beans topped with the mild flavored sausage.
I simmered the cotechino in water flavored with garlic, celery and bay leaves for about 1 1/2 hours. Meanwhile I brought the beans (shelled only) up to a boil and let them simmered until tender (about 20 minutes). For the last 5 minutes or so I added in the green beans to cook through. Just before serving a sautéed the bean mix in olive oil with leeks, garlic, chili flakes, and prosciutto then added a dressing of balsamic vinegar, olive oil and dijon mustard and let the mixture heat through. The sausage slices (not traditionally) I crisped in olive oil before placing on the colorful bean combo.
Good Luck, Good Fortune, Happy New Year (early).

Greens And Beans

Collard greens, spicy sausage and beans. A Southern classic cooked together based on a  recipe from the New York Times. It's perfect dish to store away in the freezer for James to heat up while I'm gone.

I started with smoked andouille sausage (3 links), 2 cloves of garlic, and a bit of onion in a hot pan with oil. When the sausage had a bit of color I added in about a pound and a half of soaked white beans and 1 quart of chicken stock and let the beans simmer for 1 hour, covered. When the beans were still crisp tender I added in the cut up collards and let the entire mixture (seasoned with salt, pepper, and chili peppers) simmer for another 1/2 hour until we had a thick strew ready to serve -- with a splash of hot sauce -- over fluffy steamed rice.

Stepped Off The Plane And Into The Kitchen

Stumbling in the door with luggage, I started a pot of water going for pasta. No matter what is in the house I can always come up with spaghetti.
Rustling through the fridge I found odds and ends in a couple packages of prosciutto, a container of big creamy Corona beans I left for James to eat while I was gone, and a piquant Italian cheese coated in rosemary I brought home from Costco a little while back.
I started heating the prosciutto in a pan with garlic, olive oil, chili peppers, and oregano. When the pork started to crisp I tossed in the drained beans and a splash of white wine. I left that mixture simmer while the spaghetti cooked. I added the drains pasta to the bean mixture along with knob of butter, a splash of cooking water, and plenty of that grated cheese and stirred everything around to a make--shift sauce and tope fit all with a lightly fried egg (Foggy's been busy while I've been gone).

Call It Anything Else

"Stoop." She calls it "stoop."

Her legions of fans sit mesmerized by her boundless cheerfulness and seemingly endless recipes for lasagna roll ups but I can't stand the sound of her voice. The slap-dash quality of her food. The very boundless cheer others admire. But "stoop," although I can't bring myself to say it out loud, is a useful word. I often get over ambitious while whipping up some soup for James and end up with something too thick for soup, not quite stew, a dinner bowl . . . a "stoop." Though I would never call it such.

Tonight with a pot of cooked white beans and a container of leftover braised chard I ventured out to make a chard and white bean soup. I started with shallots, celery, carrots, and garlic sautéing in olive oil. When they were soft added in about 1 cup of red wine (I would have used white if we'd had some open) and let that cook down. Next into the pot went 4 cups of chicken broth, 1 small can of tomatoes I put up last summer, a bay leaf, about 2 cups of the white beans with a bit of their flavorful cooking liquid, and about 3/4 cup of rice (A bit too much I see now). After coming up to a boil the whole mixture simmered for about 25 minutes. Because the chard was already cooked I just stirred it in to heat through. Off the heat I stirred in a TB of sherry vinegar for a bit of tang and then served James' dinner soup with crusty bread for dipping and sprinkled with parmesan cheese.

Potatoes and Beans

James, the dogs and I spent all day outside doing yard work. When it came time for dinner I could barely think. I just had no idea. I put some potatoes in the oven to bake. Figured that was a good place to start no matter what went with it. James loves broccoli so I decided to steam some up. My first thought was baked potatoes with broccoli and cheese, but that seemed like it would need a salad and I just didn't feel like washing any lettuce. Besides it never hurts to have a little protein after a long day's work. I looked in the cupboard and happened on a jar of big beautiful white beans and quickly decided on a bean sauté to top those baked potatoes. I mixed diced bacon, onion, celery, crushed red peppers, parsley, thyme, and a bit of fresh sage in a saucepan with warm olive oil and let the vegetables sauté until the onions were tender. I added in the beans, heated through (well a little more than just through to let the beans absorb some of the flavor) and finished the "sauce" with a touch of cream.

Pork N' Beans?

I started with bag of dried borlotti beans (I had already soaked them) and a crock pot. The chore list was pretty long today and having something that would cook away without my attention seemed like a plus.

I mixed the drained beans with sprigs of fresh thyme, fresh rosemary, 4 cloves of garlic, 1 quartered onion, 2 stalks of celery (cut into 2 inch pieces, 3 fresh bay leaves, 2 quartered tomatoes, a splash of olive oil and one large potato, peeled and halved in the crock pot. I covered it all with water and left the beans to simmer on low for about 1o hours. When the beans were tender I fished out the celery, tomato, potato, onion, and -- based on a recipe I saw Jamie Oliver make -- mashed them together with S&P and olive oil and added the mixture back into the pot to thicken the bean's liquid.

I served the beans resting on thick sourdough toast and topped with a pork chop quickly marinated in oregano, lemon, thyme and olive oil. Using the method I generally rely on for steaks, I quickly seared the chop on both sides in a hot skillet on the stove and finished in a 450º oven.

Pot Of Beans

This has been a soupy week. I'm not sure if it's the nip in the air or that most of my sauté pans are in my old kitchen or the lack of dishwasher (soupy meals are good one pot options) but somehow every night lately dinner has been in a bowl. I tried to break out tonight. No luck. Somehow the Italian sausage in the fridge (another treat from our friends at Chileno valley Ranch) turned into a bean stew with plenty of fresh herbs and tomatoes canned from our garden.

I sautéed smashed garlic cloves in olive oil and then browned sausage meatballs in the hot oil. I added in chopped rosemary, thyme, and crushed red peppers followed by two cans of beans (drained) and then 1 cup of reserved liquid added back in, 2 sage leaves, and a pint jar of tomatoes. I let everything simmer for 15 minutes covered and then another 10 uncovered to try and reduce the sauce.

A little soupy but pretty tasty. You can see not much was left.

Together Again

James is finally home. Since he was traveling I made a pot of cider beans, a recipe that doesn't suffer from extra cooking time. Soaked beans are boiled for 30 minutes in apple cider and then baked with onions, salt pork (or slab bacon in this case), molasses and mustard for most of the day. Naturally I whipped up a pan of cornbread to mop of the gently sweet sauce.

Welcome home honey.

Spicy Dinner With Friends

It all started with a pork shoulder. I had one in the freezer from our poultry CSA and it was too big for just James so I needed friends to help us eat it -- time to call K&D. I decided to stew the meat, New Mexico style with chili powder for a crock pot batch of carne adovado, a staple in the Land of Enchantment but little known elsewhere.

Once I had started on that path I naturally came to beans. Although the occasional bowl of posole fits the bill it's kind of hard to imagine spicy food without beans and so I went from New Mexico to old Mexico with a pot of drunken beans, pintos cooked with bacon, onion, oregano, garlic, jalapenos, and beer. You saute the aromatics first (can bacon be considered and aromatic, I wonder) add in the beans, peppers, and beer, water and bring to a boil The beans bake in the over (300º) for about an hour and a half leaving the stovetop free for other dishes.
One of our favorite salads isn't a salad at all, really. It's a cuban style platter of avocado and red onion dressed with red wine vinegar and olive oil. A perfect cooling side dish.
Pork, chili powder, crock pot . . . main dish for company.
Cilantro rice, based on a recipe from Rick Bayless (he's my go to guy for Mexican). I heated chili peppers (Rick called for poblanos but I have these darling peroncicni in the garden and tossed 3 -- seeded and stemmed -- in) in chicken broth (3 1/2 cups) along with a handful of cilantro -- stems and all. I brought the liquid up to a boil and let it simmer, covered for 10 minutes. When the peppers were softened I transferred the liquid to the blend and pureed it all until smooth. Next I sauteed rice (2 cups) and chopped onion (1/2 medium) in olive oil until the rice was chalky and the onions starting to soften. I added the liquid from the blender and the rice from the pan to my rice cooker. With company coming it's nice to have a dish, or two, that doesn't need last minute attention from the cook. When the rice was finished I gave it a fluff with a fork and let it stay in the cooker staying warm until dinner was served. Because my peppers were a bit more red than green my rice didn't have the vibrant color this celebratory dish is famous for but the flavor --and the aroma -- were all there.
I could call this cake cuatro leches I suppose. The super sweet, creamy Latin favorite is basically a spongy light cake soaked in 3 kinds of milk -- condensed, evaporated, and heavy cream. Following a recipe from Saveur magazine I added a topping of dulce de leche -- a caramelized milk topping popular pretty much throughout the Spanish speaking world. I had a jar I brought home from Uruguay a while back. I love that this recipe offers the airiness of beaten egg whites but only uses one beater and one bowl to get ready. I topped our cakes with a dollop of fresh whipped cream. Dreamy texture, sweet topping, the perfect dessert.