Duck Soup

Pulchritude and Poultry



I pulled the pot of stock from the fridge and it shimmied. It didn't wobble. It didn't shudder. It didn't ripple. It didn't sashay. Nor did it undulate, shake like a bowl full of jelly, or shiver. No. It shimmied like a skinny 15-year-old girl doing a hula dance on a Polynesian island for her boyfriend.

A few weeks back I wrote an article for NPR's Kitchen Window on cooking duck. As with most of my NPR pieces, the hardest part was deciding which recipes to cover. I was tempted to do duck confit because of the holiday season and because duck rillettes made from the confit are so special as a holiday appetizer. But I figured no one was going to take on making confit during the holidays. I considered the classic Peking Duck, but then I'd have to also provide a recipe for crepes - which would have been off-topic. One recipe that I didn't include but really wanted to was duck soup.

I strained the liquid, discarded the solids, and reduced it to about a gallon. Now I had the essence of duck in a pot.

It seemed incumbent on me to provide a recipe for roasting duck, because for best results it's a two or three step process in order to extract the excess fat: simmer the duck for 40 minutes in a stock pot, dry it overnight, then roast it at high heat for 30 minutes. This process would utterly destroy a chicken or turkey but for duck it's, well, water off it's back.

At then end of the roasting process you have the duck stock that had just sashayed out of my refrigerator. After roasting and mostly eating the duck I dumped the carcass back in the stock and simmered it another couple of hours to extract more flavor plus the gelatin in the bones. At this point I had about two gallons of liquid. I strained the liquid, discarded the solids, and reduced it to about a gallon. Now I had the essence of duck in a pot. I also happened to have a pair of roasted legs I hadn't eaten - but this was purely an accidental bonus of living alone.

After some internal discussion, I decided to make lentil soup. Whoooeee, we are talking some awesome soup here.

Duck and Bean Soup
Serves 6.

5 - 7 qt duck stock (see NPR article)
duck carcass
1 preserved lemon (or 1 stalk lemon grass, or the juice of two lemons)
1 lb lentils (I used the French du Puy lentils)*
1 carrots - peeled and grated
1 onion - peeled and finely diced
4 tbsp olive oil - separated
3 cloves garlic peeled and finely minced
zest of 1 lemon
1 cup assorted, pitted olives
Salt and pepper to taste.

Place the stock on the stove and add the duck bones and preserved lemon. Bring just to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for two hours. Strain out solids and discard. Return to heat and reduce to about 4 quarts. Taste stock and if necessary add more salt.

In the meantime, brown the diced onion in 2 tablespoons of oil.

Add all remaining ingredients except last 2 tablespoons of oil to pot, return to a boil, then lower heat and simmer for 1 - 2 hours until you like the texture - adding water if needed.

Taste again and adjust seasonings and serve with lemon wedges. I found that garlic bread was a perfect accompaniment to this soup.

*Note: I chose lentils (and any lentils will work), but I nearly went with cannellini beans, which would have also been great but would have taken 3 - 4 hours to cook.

Because I had a duck leg/thigh I stripped it off the bone, shredded it, and added it to the soup at the last moment.

Try this soup with...
Quick Cheddar Cheese Bread
Parmesan/Bacon Burger
Roasted Garlic Bread

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | duck | beans | soup | main dish

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Green Beans with Anchovies

Umami, Whoa-o; Umami, Whoa-o-O-o



The Romans invented fish sauce, which is not say it wasn't also invented in Asia, but the Romans had their own version named garum that was made from anchovies — a fish found in great numbers (at one time, anyway) in the Mediterranean Sea.

Most of us are familiar with the canned anchovies sold at the grocery store, but in Spain (and probably all around the Mediterranean) you can find fresh anchovies as well as fresh sardines grilled over wood fires at little roadside stands near the beach. This was another of those things I wanted to try while I was in Spain but was vetoed on. (When there are seven or eight people in a van and only one wants to stop and try something that one is doomed to disappointment).

But I'd ready discovered the wonders of anchovies a few years before - albeit the pasted variety. I don't recall what I purchased the anchovy paste for, but something prompted me to add it to a marinara sauce and it produced a much richer, more savory sauce. In fact, I was amazed at the difference a teaspoon of paste made. But why did it make such a difference?

It turns out anchovies are naturally high in glutamates — the chemical that tickles our umami taste buds (umami is the fifth taste after sweet, salty, sour, and bitter). Further, the process of preserving anchovies concentrates and enhances the glutamates, which seem to have a greater effect when paired with salt. Consequently adding anchovies (in some form) to a dish makes it more savory. And you don't even have to add enough to be able to taste the anchovies, in fact the flavor of anchovy paste detracts from my marinara sauce. All I want is the taste.

Discovery made, I started experimenting with anchovies in different forms with different dishes and among my experiments I found that anchovies really enhance green vegetables — especially when those vegetables are paired with meat. For instance, here in the South collard and turnip greens as well as green beans are frequently cooked in a broth containing either country ham or a ham hock. Add some anchovy and the greens will leap at your mouth.

A few days ago I bought some broad beans and decided to adapt an Italian recipe I had for broccoli rabe to the beans. It turned out to be a great idea (even better than the original recipe) and, as I write this, I'm planning to do it again provided I can find broad beans again.

Green Beans with Anchovies
Serves 4.

1 lb green beans — trimmed of stem end and broken or cut into 1 1/2" pieces
2 oz. pancetta — cut into 1/4 inch dice
2 garlic cloves — sliced thinly
3 anchovy filets — rinsed and minced
1 tbsp olive oil
Salt to taste

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add beans and cook until just tender — about 7 minutes. Drain beans in a colander and douse in cold water to stop cooking and fix their color.

Add olive oil, garlic, pancetta, and anchovy to a skillet, stirring to coat ingredients with oil, and place over medium low heat. Cook until garlic turns golden, stirring occasionally. Increase heat to medium high, add beans, and quickly sauté the beans, stirring frequently, for 2 - 3 minutes or until beans are hot. Season with salt and serve.

Note: In this recipe you will have a faint taste of anchovy. But try it, you'll like it.

Try these beans with...
Greek Meatloaf
Roast Beef
Tuscan Chicken

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | beans | side dish

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Red Beans and Rice

Secret Beans



Back in the early 90s I was making a batch of marinara sauce and something prompted me to add some anchovy paste to it. I'm not sure why. I wasn't an anchovy fan, but I followed my gut and ended up producing the best marinara sauce I'd ever made. I couldn't taste the anchovies directly (I only used a tablespoon or so) but the addition added both depth and richness to the sauce. Since then I've learned that what I was really doing was adding umami (MSG) to the sauce. When I began sharing my "secret ingredient" with others I learned it's an old Italian trick. So much for my originality.

But I have another trick I thought I'd share and so far I haven't found anyone else using it. It has to do with beans.

Acid makes beans tough by binding with proteins in the shells so avoid adding acid to beans before they've softened completely.

Most recipes for dried beans involve either soaking them overnight or boiling them for an hour or so, and then throwing out the liquid. The purpose is to rehydrate the beans and the excuse for throwing out the liquid is to get rid of the oliosaccharides that cause gas. But these carbohydrates are broken down by long, slow cooking so given that most dried beans are cooked long and slow, throwing out the liquid does little beyond eliminating the water-soluble nutrients that are leached out and does nothing about the flatulence factor.

Second, many recipes argue against adding salt to beans before they're done with the claim that salt makes them tough. Sorry. No. It doesn't. Acid makes beans tough by binding with proteins in the shells so avoid adding acid to beans before they've softened completely — but salt is another matter. So here's my secret for great beans: treat them like rice, specifically risotto.

Risotto is cooked slowly in a flavorful broth so that the rice soaks up the flavor of the broth. The addition of salt not only provides taste on it's own, but through the process of osmosis salt draws flavor of the broth into the rice. With beans I cook them in broth or stock from the beginning. This means the flavors get sucked into the beans producing a much more savory result. I also salt the beans well at the beginning to enhance this process and get salt into the beans.

This past week I made a batch of red beans and rice. I'm providing a recipe, but pay more attention to the technique than to the ingredients. These beans were almost literally bursting with flavor.

Red Beans and Rice
Serves 6.

Broth:
Roasted ham shank
2 bay leaves
12 peppercorns
1 lg onion — peeled and quartered
2 carrots — broken up into 3 or 4 pieces
1 lg celery stalk — broken up into 3 or 4 pieces
handful of parsley
Beans:
1/2 lb red beans
~2 tbsp salt
Creole seasoning
1 tsp baking soda (optional)
1/2 lb Andouille sausage — slice 1/4-inch thick
meat from ham shank
1 md onion — finely diced
1 md stalk celery — finely diced
1/2 bell pepper — finely diced
2 lg garlic cloves — minced
2 tbsp oil or lard
2 tbsp tomato paste
1 tbsp Cajun seasoning
Serving:
3 c cooked long-grain rice
Diced red onion
Diced bell pepper
Cider vinegar
Hot sauce

Broth:
Place ham shank in six quarts of water with pepper corns and bay leaves. Bring just to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer gently for six hours — covered. Skim off any foam that rises to the top. Top up water as needed, you want to cook some away but you should end up with about 4 quarts of broth.

For the last hour of cooking add the onion, carrot, celery, and parsley. Again, skim off any foam that forms. Strain broth through a sieve and discard all solids except the shank. Allow the shank to cool, remove fat, cube the meat, and reserve. Because the shank was already roasted the broth shouldn't have much fat.

Beans:
Taste stock and add salt — it should be fairly salty because the beans will absorb so much of it and can stand a lot of salt. Add beans and Cajun seasoning and bring just to a boil. Immediately reduce heat to a gentle simmer, cover, and cook for at least three hours.

Again, you will have liquid evaporating. You want to end up with mostly beans but with plenty of sauce so add water as needed.

Taste and check the beans texture. They should be fairly tender at this point, if not add the baking soda (the soda is caustic and will soften the beans — cook another hour). Add additional Cajun seasoning if needed.

Once the beans are tender, heat the oil or lard in a skillet over medium heat and sauté the onion, pepper, and celery until translucent. Stir in the garlic, tomato paste, and Cajun seasoning and cook another minute.

Add vegetables, reserved ham, and sausage. Simmer for 30 minutes while you cook the rice.

Serving:
Spoon rice into a bowl, add beans, garnish with peppers and onions, serve with vinegar and hot sauce on the side.

Cornbread and beer are good on the side.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | paisano | cajun | beans

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Paisano: Pasta e Fagiole

Liquid Italian Art



My father is a good driver. He's competent, confident, and careful. As a rule one wouldn't think twice about riding in a car with him — unless you're in Italy. Put him behind the wheel of a Fiat in Italy and his white hair turns glossy black, his beard shrinks into a mustache, the second button on his shirt opens exposing a crucifix on a chain. He drives with the gas pedal flat to the floor (thank God it's only a Fiat), he passes on the right and on curves — he scared the bejeezus out of me.

Several years ago my father attended several conferences in Europe, taking my mother along, and they asked me if I wanted to join them for a week in Tuscany visiting some of the less tourist-encrusted sites such as the Etruscan tombs and Hadrian's Villa. So I flew over and we had a marvelous week together — except in the car.

At least he wasn't waving gaily to the North-African prostitutes one sees at the most lonely, out-of-way spots along the road.

Fortunately, because of the nature of the sites we were visiting, we were mostly driving on well-maintained, two-lane highways where his suddenly Italian driving form wasn't outrageously risky (although my mother did develop severe cramps in her brake leg). And at least he wasn't waving gaily to the North-African prostitutes one sees at the most lonely, out-of-way spots along the road. Apparently in Italy they have highway-walkers as well as street-walkers.

At any rate, as I was making this Pasta e Fagiole the other night I hung my head over the pot to take a sniff and the odor immediately reminded me of our week in Italy. Fair warning, this is my recipe and not some age-old Italian version. I stole a bit here and a bit there from other recipes in putting it together, nevertheless, my nose told me I had something that would pass for authentic. And, like all such traditional recipes, authenticity is what the cook decides is authentic.

Pasta e Fagiole
Serves 6.

1/2 lb. short pasta (macaroni, penne, fusilli...)
4 qt. chicken broth or stock (I used homemade stock)
1 15 oz. can diced tomatoes
1 15 oz. can cannelloni beans
1/2 lb. Italian sausage (2 links) — cut into 1/4" rounds
1/2 lg. yellow onion — small dice
2 lg. garlic cloves — coarsely chopped
1 1/2 tbsp. olive oil
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. dried basil
1/2 tsp. dried sage
1/4 tsp. red pepper flakes
1 tsp. anchovy paste

Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a medium skillet. Add sausage and brown on both sides — 8 to 10 minutes — then drain on a paper towel. Add the onion to the skillet and cook until beginning to brown (4 -5 minutes), add garlic, and cook a minute longer. Scoop onto plate with sausage.

Drain and completely rinse beans. Process half to a puree in a food processor

Bring the chicken stock to a boil, add pasta, and cook for 8 - 9 minutes. (The pasta should be slightly underdone.) Reduce heat to a simmer. Add all ingredients to pot and simmer for 10 minutes. Taste, adjust seasonings, and serve.

Note: I added a couple of old Parmigiano Regianno cheese rinds to the soup (I keep them for just that purpose), which added a bit more savor.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | soup | main dish | pasta | beans | italian

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Paisano: Cassoulet

Paisano: Cassoulet



I got a call from the Paisano about a week ago. He was in Sonoma (California) visiting a friend who raises sheep and had been bragging about my lamb sausage: my lamb sausage. I was flabbergasted because as a rule, while the old bastard admits I can cook, he refuses to admit I can do anything better than he can. In this case his friend was trying to empty his reefer (walk in freezer) of what was left of last year's lamb and asked Paisano for suggestions: bless his heart, Paisano suggested my sausage.

The trip at that point had taken months, largely on foot, and his baby sister died on the way.

This acknowledgment was pretty cool on it's own, but a few days later I got another call from Paisano and I gained a bit more insight into his past - something far harder to come by than a complement. Specifically he called to tell me about the cassoulet he'd made using my lamb sausage.

The cassoulet with lamb sausage had brought back memories of a cassoulet he'd had when he was in his early teens and fleeing a communist crackdown. As best I could tell, the journey was in the decade following World War II and his mother, older brother, he, and his sisters were trying to get to Bordeaux where they had family. Shortly after reaching France they were briefly taken in by a family in Toulouse. The trip at that point had taken months, largely on foot, and his baby sister died on the way. The rest of them were near starvation by the time they reached the city.

That night they feasted on cassoulet: white beans with pork, duck, and in this case lamb sausage. The meal was too rich for their stomachs and they were all sick after eating it. But they had more the next day and this time kept it down. They stayed a few days longer, recovering their strength and the French family managed to arrange transportation for them all the way to Bordeaux. Paisano's luck had changed 50 years ago in Toulouse and the cassoulet he'd just made in Sonoma with lamb sausage brought back the memory of that time when life had once again confounded expectations by being good when pain was expected.

I've thought about that phone conversation since then to figure out more about him than he admits to. And I suspect the Paisano is Romano - a Gypsy. I suspect this because the family wasn't simply fleeing enemies in their homeland, but feared enemies all along the way. They might have been Jewish, but Paisano is too off-the-edge for that to ring true to me and his features don't seem to have come from that ethnic group. And, well, look at the way he lives, always on the road despite his home base at Lake Tahoe.

I may never know the Paisano's complete story. I'd love to, but I also enjoy, perhaps even more, playing by his rules and trying to figure it out on my own. And whatever his origins, he's certainly right about how good cassoulet is with lamb sausage, even when you're not starving.

Cassoulet
Serves 8.

1 pound dried cannellini beans (great northern beans or navy beans may be used)
1 celery stalk, broken in half
1 carrot, broken in half
2 large yellow onions, 1 peeled and cut in half, the other peeled and diced
4 ounces pancetta
10-12 sprigs of thyme, tied in a bundle
2 bay leaves
2 quarts duck stock (or chicken stock)
2 tablespoons salt
2 country-style pork ribs (about 12 ounces)
5 tablespoons duck fat (or olive oil)
2 links (1/2 pound) lamb garlic sausage or any other fresh link sausage
4 tablespoons minced garlic, separated
1 14-ounce can diced tomatoes
2 duck legs confit (about 12 ounces with bone in), you can use fresh duck or chicken if confit is unavailable
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 cup bread crumbs

Pick over beans and add to a large pot along with carrot, celery, the onion cut in half, pancetta, thyme and bay leaves. Add stock and bring just to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat and simmer for 3 hours. Top up liquid with water as needed to keep all ingredients covered.

Cool beans then pick out vegetables and herbs and discard. Cut up pancetta and return to pot.

Meanwhile, preheat oven to 225 degrees.

Season pork ribs with salt and pepper and brown on all sides in a tablespoon of duck fat in a cast iron skillet. Cover skillet with aluminum foil, place in oven and cook until the beans are done -- about 3 hours. Allow to cool.

Place sausages and two tablespoons of duck fat in a skillet with 1/2 inch of water. Simmer for 4 minutes, turn sausage over, and simmer until all water is gone. Brown sausages and set aside.

Add another tablespoon of duck fat (if needed) to sausage skillet and add diced onions. Sautee over medium heat for 4 minutes, stirring as needed to prevent burning. Stir in 3 tablespoons minced garlic and cook 1 minute longer. Mix onions into beans along with diced tomatoes and their juice.

Add last tablespoon of duck fat to skillet and toss in breadcrumbs and remaining tablespoon of minced garlic. Cook until lightly browned. Reserve.

If you're using fresh duck or chicken, season it generously with salt and pepper and brown it in the skillet with a tablespoon of oil or fat.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine all the ingredients except breadcrumbs in a deep casserole or Dutch oven, but make sure beans cover all the meat to keep it from drying out. You may need to add a bit of liquid, just enough to bring the level slightly below the top. Water works, but so does either red or white wine and wine adds more flavor. Sprinkle with breadcrumbs to form a crust.

Bake, uncovered, for 1 hour. Remove from oven, cool and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, preheat oven to 300 degrees.

Remove meat from bones and slice sausage into rounds then stir back in along with the crust. Cook for 1 hour and serve.

I like a red wine with this dish, but white is fine. A green salad with vinaigrette is the perfect side dish.

Note: Paisano is a fictitious character developed for Gather.com.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | cassoulet | beans | french

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Kitchen Window:Revitalizing the Dried Bean

Mah'moud was a big man — about 6 feet 3 inches and 250 pounds — so people noticed when he walked down the street leading a turkey by a string around its neck. He was on his way to the backyard of our house in a suburb of Cairo, Egypt, where I lived the year I turned 18 and where he worked as our cook.

You can read the complete article at Kitchen Window.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | kitchen window | beans

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Paisano: Senate Bean Soup

Legislative Legacy



I've been working on an article for NPR's Kitchen Window about bean dishes. One that I recall from my childhood is the famous Senate Bean Soup, which is served in the U.S. Senate dining room every day. The exact origins of the dish are unkown, but according to the official Senate Bean Soup Web site the original recipe is unknown, but one reputed original version contains mashed potatoes. However, the recipe served today doesn't include potatoes.

I never really cared for what my mother made (although as best I can recall she used the current version that now appears on the Web site). So recently I set out to see if I could improve it.

Senate Bean Soup is served in the U.S. Senate dining room every day.

First, both recipes published on the Senate site call for Navy Beans and these aren't a favorite of mine because I find both the texture and flavor somewhat chalky. My favorite white bean is the cannellini. This bean has a subtle sweetness and an almost silky texture.

Step two was hydrating the beans. In one case the recipe calls for a smoked ham hock and in the other for ham itself and a ham bone. Experience has taught me that the only opportunity you really have to flavor the beans themselves (as opposed to the liquid they're in) is when they're hydrating and soaking up liquid and whatever flavors that liquid contains — and as with pasta, if you want to salt the beans do it when they're soaking up liquid.

I decided to flavor the liquid with a smoked ham hock, salt (lots), dried sage, black pepper, celery, onion, and parsley. In effect, I made a stock.

For the final dish, I discarded the vegetables in the stock and added sautéed onions, country ham, and diced potatoes. The potatoes were primarily for visual and textural interest.

This was a great bowl of soup. Packed with flavor and with a marvelous texture.

Senate Bean Soup

1 lb cannellini beans
1 smoked ham hock
2 tbsp salt (seriously)
2 md onions
1 lg stalk celery — broken in thirds
2 tsp dried sage
1 sm bunch parsley
1/2 tbsp cracked black pepper
1/2 lb white potatoes — cut into 1/2" dice
8 oz country ham
freshly ground black pepper

Slice through the skin on a smoked ham hock in several places — this makes it easier for the hock to contribute flavor and to recover the meat at the end of cooking. Peel and quarter one of the onions.

Place beans, ham hock, celery stalk, quartered onion, salt, sage, and cracked pepper in a soup pot and add enough water to cover the beans by 2 inches. Over high heat, bring just to a boil, reduce heat to low, cover pot, and simmer for 3 hours. Check at two hours to see if you need to top up the liquid.

In the meantime, dice the remaining onion and country ham. Cook in a skillet over medium heat with a bit of oil or butter until the onions are translucent. Reserve.

When the beans have cooked for three hours, remove and discard the onion quarters, celery, and parsley. Extract whatever meat you can from the hock and add back to the pot. Add the diced onions, ham, and potatoes. Adjust liquid, and continue to simmer for 30 - 40 minutes until potatoes are done. Adjust seasonings and serve.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | soup | beans | senate bean soup

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Bean Stew

Beans for the Heart



I have friends in Texas, and although they may be wrong in their definition of what Barbeque should be made of (pork, of course), I won’t argue with them about their definition of chili. According to them a bowl of red is made with meat and chilies. Period. In deference to their sensitivity (is "sensitive Texan" an oxymoron?), I try not to mention that a little west of them the definition is less dogmatic nor that I think folks anywhere along the border with Mexico are entitled to define the dish as they will. Note: People in Cincinnati are absolutely not entitled to define chile, they lost all vestiges of authority (and dignity, for that matter) when they first used spaghetti.

So I'm not calling this dish "chili," although it does contain chilies, instead I'm calling it Frijol Estofado (Bean Stew).

When I was growing up Mom browned ground beef and onions, added a can of beans and a envelope of McCormick Chili mixture, and called that chili.

I've been exploring dried beans lately. I never cared for them as a kid but a couple of years ago something prompted me to create Cannellini Méditerranée and I was astounded at how easy and delicious it was. The cannellini dish, combined with my efforts to more tightly control my food costs, led me to further bean explorations, which led me back to chili.

When I was growing up Mom browned ground beef and onions, added a can of beans and a envelope of McCormick Chili mixture, and called that chili. And, in fact, it is what most people outside of the Southwest think of as chili — I still do. But since those days I've learned to pick my battles and a couple of weeks ago I decided to do something more bean-centric, with just a bit of Mexican chorizo added for flavor.

The corn adds a marvelous sweetness that highlights and slightly counteracts the capsicum from the chile powder.

Frijol Estofado

Prep:
2 oz salt pork — cut into 1/4" cubes
1/2 lb chorizo — cut into 1/4" slices
1 md onion — diced
1 md bell pepper — seeded and diced
1 jalapeno pepper — seeded and minced
2 tsp chile powder **see below
2 tbsp cumin
1 tsp Mexican oregano
2 cloves garlic — minced
Frijol:
1 lb dried light red kidney beans
1 smoked ham hock
1 md onion — quartered
1 stalk celery
1 bay leaf
1 tbsp salt
Estofado:
1 15 oz can diced tomatoes
2 15 oz cans corn

Prep:
Render the fat from the salt pork in a large Dutch oven over low heat — about 10 minutes. Increase heat to medium-high and brown chorizo. Remove to a plate using a slotted spoon. Reduce heat to medium and sauté onion, bell pepper, chile powder, cumin, and oregano until they just start to brown. Stir in garlic and cook 1 minute longer. Remove to plate with sausage. Refrigerate.

Frijol:
Slash the ham hock in several places then place it and all the Frijol ingredients in a stock pot along with enough water to cover by two inches. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer and cook 3 hours. (Even better, place the pot in a 350F oven.) Top up the liquid if needed, but you don’t want a watery mixture.

Estafado:
Remove onion quarters and celery and discard. Add reserved sausage, sauteed veggies, tomatoes, and corn. Cook 1 to 1 1/2 hours longer until beans are tender and flavors meld. Taste and adjust seasonings.

Chile Powder: Grind together 2 chipotle peppers, 3 passilas, and 2 anchos to a fine powder.

The dish should be moist but not soupy. Sour cream is a great addition.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | beans | southwest

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Cannellini Méditerranée

Mediteranean Medley



As a personal chef I'm always on the lookout for dishes that will be new to my clients, but not too new. Dishes that are somewhat exotic, but not too exotic. Dishes that are easy for me to prepare, but don't seem easy to prepare. And above all, dishes that freeze well. A couple of years ago I came up with one such dish.

I didn't start out to make something suitable for my clients, instead I had an urge for cassoulet but didn't want to take the time to make it. True cassoulet involves a multitude of ingredients, a lot of separate steps, and anywhere from one to two days (I even ran across a recipe once that took four days to prepare). Cassoulet is well worth the effort, but isn't a task taken on lightly. I wondered if I could make something more quickly that, although not up to the standard of a great cassoulet, would still be good. I looked up several cassoulet recipes and developed the recipe below. It far exceeded my expectations.

It's only dinner, but cooking makes honest people of liars, realists of dreamers, and well-ordered minds of chaotic and impulsive ones. ~ Molly O'Neill

When cooking for myself I seldom repeat dishes. I have a small repertoire of favorites that I might fix at most twice in a year: tuna casserole, jambalaya, fondue, corned beef and cabbage, gazpacho… But for the most part there are just so many things I haven't tried yet that I avoid repeating myself. However, this bean dish has become a staple not only for my clients, but for my own table. It meets all the criteria for my clients (and is inexpensive to boot) and it's deeply satisfying to eat.

Don't think of this as a quick cassoulet, enjoy it as a good bean recipe in its own right. It's richly savory, has a nice herbal background, and the red pepper gives it a nice bounce. It's not too heavy for summer eating. Serve it with a hearty red wine, focaccia, and a green salad with a simple vinaigrette. (Note: I've published this recipe before, but it's so good I wanted to do so again.)

Cannellini Méditerranée

2 19 oz cans cannellini beans
1/2 lb Italian sausage — cut into 1/2" slices
2 tbsp olive oil
1 md. yellow onion — diced
1 15 oz can diced tomatoes
1 smoked turkey leg — skin removed and diced
2 garlic cloves — minced
3 tbsp tomato paste
2 sprigs fresh sage
4 sprigs fresh thyme
1 sprig fresh rosemary
2 bay leaves
healthy pinch of red pepper flakes
1 - 2 c chicken broth

Heat oven to 300F.

Brown the Italian sausage in olive oil in a dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until translucent. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant (about 1 minute).

Add all reamining ingredients to the pot along with just enough chicken broth to bring the liquid level with the other ingredients.

Cover the pot and place it in the oven for 1 1/2 hours. Remove the cover and continue cooking for another hour until a few beans began to split and release some starch into the broth for thickening.

Note: this is one of those dishes that improves with age.

Technorati: Food | recipe | beans | cannellini

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Barbequed Beans

Beans Are Good for the Heart — and Soul



When I was a kid there were times when I took my lunch to school and other periods when I bought my lunch at the cafeteria. Thinking back, I don't recall a particular rhyme or reason to it nor do I particularly remember caring except in one case, when the cafeteria was serving beans I wanted to take my lunch.

In the South at that time beans were often a main dish — and they were horrible. Pinto beans would be cooked for six or seven hours, with perhaps a ham hock as the only flavoring, until they were a lumpy grayish-brown paste. Horrible things that turned me against dried beans.

Beans beans, they're good for the heart
The more you eat the more your fart
The more you fart, the better you feel
So eat your beans at every meal.
~ traditional

There were exceptions, I've always liked cassoulet and my mother made a mean pot of Senate Bean Soup, but even in those cases, a single helping was enough to last me for a year. But for the most part I've had problems getting past the memory of those nasty beans served in the school cafeteria.

But a couple of years ago something prompted me to make a quick cassoulet-like dish that completely blew me away and prompted me to further beanish experiments — among them a stab at making real (smoked) barbequed beans. As you can see from the article, that didn't work out, but this past Memorial Day I tried again and this time I succeeded.

Barbequed Beans
Serves 8.

1 lb dried, dark pinto beans
1 tbsp salt
1 smoked ham hock
1 onion — peeled and cut into eighths
6 oz thick cut bacon — cooked until slightly crisp and cut into lardons
1/2 onion — diced and sautéed in bacon fat
1/4 c brown sugar
1/4 c molasses
1/2 c barbeque sauce
1 1/2 c canned, plain tomato sauce
1 tsp dried sage
1/2 tsp ground mace
2 tbsp chili powder
salt and black pepper to taste

Put the beans, ham hock, onion quarters and 6 cups of water in a soup pot. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to low and simmer, partially covered, for 2 1/2 hours. Drain beans, keeping about 1 cup of cooking liquid. Pick the meat off the ham hock and add back to the beans.

In the meantime, cook the bacon in a skillet and drain most of the fat, keeping about 2 tablespoons. Sauté the diced onion in the bacon fat until the onion begins to brown. Set aside.

In an aluminum-foil roasting pan, combine the beans and all other ingredients. (Everything to this point can be done a day in advance.)

If you don't have a smoker or don't want to use it, the beans should be cooked for about 3 more hours, uncovered, in 225F oven. But if, like me, you have a barrel smoker, then once your fire is going place a rack in the middle of the smoker (this is directly over the water pan in my smoker — and do fill the water pan). Set the beans, uncovered, on this rack, then add the top rack and set whatever meat you're planning on smoking on it. I did ribs, but even turkey or chickens would be all right. The idea is that as the meat cooks any juices drip into the beans adding still more flavor. Smoke for at least 3 hours and 5 to 6 is better.

The beans came out tender, but mostly whole (no lumpy mush) with a distinct smoke flavor. Absolutely delicious, a complete success.

Technorati: Food | recipe | beans | side dish | barbeque | bbq

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Paisano: Lamb Cannellini

Paisano: Lamb Cannellini



The Paisano sat across from me smirking into his wine. We'd gotten into a political argument over dinner and he was quite sure he had "won" the discussion. But the fact is Paisano has no more familiarity with the rules of logic than he does of playing a violin (and I've heard him attempt that). But if he proves a point to his own satisfaction, then it is, "Phhit! Proven!" Stephen Colbert is more capable of rational thought than the old man.

Phitt himself! He needs to trim his beard or shave, one. He looks like a homeless monkey. Yes, I know, an ad hominen attack, but he spent the evening attacking me and refusing to examine the facts of the issue. He says I'm effete, only he thinks "effete" means the same thing as "feminine" but without brains. He spends far too much time hanging around rich people and listening to their insular take on reality.

The discussion began with a remark I made about health care, and Paisano's response was, "Don't get sick." I averred and pointed out that getting sick isn't always a matter of choice, I offered being involved as a passenger in an automobile accident as an example.

His response was, "You just use what you have." I said, "But you have to have something." And, because we were in the kitchen and he had just complained I had nothing to eat, I thought I had won the point. Nope.

He glared at me. Opening the refrigerator again, he pulled out a plastic tub with some leftover kale. Rummaging further, he sighed. I smiled, "What's the problem?" I asked. He ignored me and opened the freezer, quickly discovering a lamb leg bone with some meat on it (a leftover from a cooking class). He pulled out a plastic tub labeled, "Duck Stock." He said, "Beans. You got beans?" I had canned beans, cannellini. He said, "My friend, you're gonna eat."

He thawed the lamb in hot water (unimpressed when I told him that wasn't safe) and the duck stock in a pot on the stove. He pulled down my chicken brick (a clay cooker), something I hadn't used in years, scrubbed it out, and soaked it with water. Complaining only that I didn’t have any wine in the house, he actually reached into his own pocket for money and sent me out to buy a bottle of "something red and good," saying, "You have my money for wine, use what you have. And I need cigarettes, too." Of course, he didn't give me enough money for both.

The meal was good, and beautiful to look at reflecting the Italian flag with its colors of red, white, and green. But when I pointed out that he wouldn't be able to make as good a meal again tomorrow night, and that the fact he could make it all reflected my efforts to anticipate the future, he shrugged and said, "Tomorrow we will worry about tomorrow." In his pea-brain he had won the argument. Stupid old man.

Lamb Cannelllini

1 lb lamb -- cut into 3/4" pieces
2 tbsp olive oil
1 md onion -- diced
3 cloves garlic -- minced
2 cans cannellini, 20 oz
1 can diced tomatoes, 15 oz
1 tbsp Herbes de Provence
salt and pepper
2 tbsp tomato paste
1 tbsp anchovy paste
1/2 lb kale -- torn and blanched
1/2 tsp ground rosemary
2 c duck stock (chicken stock may be substituted)
2 lemons -- juiced

Heat oven to 300F.

Season lamb generously with salt and pepper. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium high heat until the oil sheets. Heat another couple of minutes then add lamb and brown on all sides, remove to a large bowl. Allow pan to cool for a couple of minutes off the heat and reduce heat to medium. Add onions and brown them, scraping up the fond. Add garlic and cook until fragrant -- about 1 minute longer. Add onions to bowl with lamb.

Add all remaining except stock. and mix thoroughly. Pour mixture into a clay cooker or Dutch oven and add enough stock to fill to the level of the other ingredients. Stir again. Cover and cook in oven for 2 1/2 hours.

Ah well. He's a silly old fart, but what can you do?

Technorati: Food | recipe | lamb | beans | cannellini | clay cooking | food column | gather

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