I am in love with heirloom beans. Having grown up severely bean-disadvantaged (kidney beans and chickpeas being the only beans my family recognized), I have overcompensated in my adulthood by purchasing massive quantities of beans of many styles and stripes. Of course, as with any infatuation, I still want more, but have managed to convince myself that I can acquire more beans only when the current stock has run out.
However, in spite of our heroic attempts, the bean situation remains largely unchanged. This could be on account of villiany, but it's mostly because I've been unsure of the best way to deal with them. Beans are frequently a part of the total dish, but very rarely are the total dish, and so using the heirloom beans in curries or chilis or tacos seemed almost like we'd be missing out on the things that make the fancy beans so fancy. I needed some way to let the very beany essence of the beans shine through.
That's where this recipe comes in. It's based on Jamie Oliver's Humble Beans, with a few tweaks.
First, get your beans. You want meaty beans for this dish, ones that plump up and are full of flavor. I used six different varieties: Ojo de cabra, Rio Zape, Cattle, Anasazi, Roman, and Borlotti. If you also plan on being absurd and using multiple bean types, be sure to confirm that they have the same cooking time. This isn't a huge deal if you like some of the beans mushy, but if you're looking for the beans to retain some kind of structural integrity, this is important information.
All told, I started with approximately one cup of mixed bean. Into the pressure cooker they should go, along with a dried chipotle morita, three or four bay leaves, and a slurp of olive oil. Cook until tender (these will simmer for a bit later, so if they are just a wee bit crunchy, don't panic) and set aside, reserving the cooking liquor.
Next, in a large saute pan, heat a tablespoon or two of grapeseed (or other neutral) oil and, when hot, add a couple of good pinches of black mustard seeds. After they've been allowed to sputter for 10 or so seconds, add some diced onion (around half a small one) and five or six cherry tomatoes, quartered. Stir until the tomatoes begin to disintegrate and the onions go translucent, then mix in several cloves of garlic (finely chopped). Once the garlic is fragrant, maybe 20 seconds, pour in the beans, along with 1/4 c. of the cooking liquid. Stir in a pinch of thyme and rosemary (for a smidgen of earthiness) and let all this goodness simmer together for 10 minutes or so, adding more cooking liquid (or water) as needed to keep everything from getting too dry.
Once all the flavors have melded, add a couple of sloshes of cider vinegar (the exact amount depends on how tangy you want it to be) and a couple of big pinches of salt (they can take it). Taste, re-salt or vinegar as needed, then mix in a drizzle of good olive oil to make everything shiny and luscious. These not-so-humble-anymore beans get on with a good hunk of crusty bread like a house on fire, though fresh tortillas or pita will also do in a pinch. I've made this a couple of times now, and I like to keep some on hand for a quick and hearty snack. It may look like cat food, but listen here, meow—it's good stuff.
However, in spite of our heroic attempts, the bean situation remains largely unchanged. This could be on account of villiany, but it's mostly because I've been unsure of the best way to deal with them. Beans are frequently a part of the total dish, but very rarely are the total dish, and so using the heirloom beans in curries or chilis or tacos seemed almost like we'd be missing out on the things that make the fancy beans so fancy. I needed some way to let the very beany essence of the beans shine through.
That's where this recipe comes in. It's based on Jamie Oliver's Humble Beans, with a few tweaks.
First, get your beans. You want meaty beans for this dish, ones that plump up and are full of flavor. I used six different varieties: Ojo de cabra, Rio Zape, Cattle, Anasazi, Roman, and Borlotti. If you also plan on being absurd and using multiple bean types, be sure to confirm that they have the same cooking time. This isn't a huge deal if you like some of the beans mushy, but if you're looking for the beans to retain some kind of structural integrity, this is important information.
All told, I started with approximately one cup of mixed bean. Into the pressure cooker they should go, along with a dried chipotle morita, three or four bay leaves, and a slurp of olive oil. Cook until tender (these will simmer for a bit later, so if they are just a wee bit crunchy, don't panic) and set aside, reserving the cooking liquor.
Next, in a large saute pan, heat a tablespoon or two of grapeseed (or other neutral) oil and, when hot, add a couple of good pinches of black mustard seeds. After they've been allowed to sputter for 10 or so seconds, add some diced onion (around half a small one) and five or six cherry tomatoes, quartered. Stir until the tomatoes begin to disintegrate and the onions go translucent, then mix in several cloves of garlic (finely chopped). Once the garlic is fragrant, maybe 20 seconds, pour in the beans, along with 1/4 c. of the cooking liquid. Stir in a pinch of thyme and rosemary (for a smidgen of earthiness) and let all this goodness simmer together for 10 minutes or so, adding more cooking liquid (or water) as needed to keep everything from getting too dry.
Once all the flavors have melded, add a couple of sloshes of cider vinegar (the exact amount depends on how tangy you want it to be) and a couple of big pinches of salt (they can take it). Taste, re-salt or vinegar as needed, then mix in a drizzle of good olive oil to make everything shiny and luscious. These not-so-humble-anymore beans get on with a good hunk of crusty bread like a house on fire, though fresh tortillas or pita will also do in a pinch. I've made this a couple of times now, and I like to keep some on hand for a quick and hearty snack. It may look like cat food, but listen here, meow—it's good stuff.
Yummmo. I am interested in this pressure cooker business.
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