As I savored the rich, lovely brown taste of my mother’s Boston Baked Beans at Easter this year, I had a thought: Did Ma have a bean pot?
Like Ma’s family, mine has roots in New England, and one recipe that’s been passed down through the generations is for those beans, which never seem to turn out quite right unless baked in a bean pot.
My mother is the current keeper of the recipe, though she’s shared it, and making it is at least an overnight task. We start by soaking a pound of dried navy beans in cold water overnight.
Then next morning, after about 12 hours of soaking, they’ve plumped up, and are ready for the first cooking. We bring the water to a boil, add a teaspoon of baking soda, and skim the foam that rises off the surface.
(Side-note: In case you’ve ever wondered, soda brings the gas out of the beans, eliminating the need for Bean-o or other gas relieving medication. I imagine this was a useful ingredient when living in close quarters in a prairie winter.)
When the foam dies down, watch the beans, scooping up a few at a time to blow on them. When the skins split as you blow on them, they’re done. Drain and rinse.
Here’s the step that many argue over. It’s possible to now stick these beans in a crock pot or Dutch oven to cook slowly, but they’re really much, much better if cooked in a bean pot. A bean pot is a round crock with a lid; they can be found new in some high end stories or through catalog companies, but they also can be found at a local antique store or flea market.
Place the beans in the pot, add a half a cup of brown sugar, a half a cup of molasses, a tablespoon of salt, a half-teaspoon of black pepper, a half-teaspoon of dried mustard, a half a pound of bacon, cut into small pieces, and water, just to the top of the beans. Don’t cover the beans with water, or they’ll get too juicy. (For the vegans or vegetarians among us, eliminating the bacon is fine. It’s just a flavoring at this point.)
Bake s-l-o-w-l-y, at 250 to 300 degrees, for several hours. On Easter, we soak the beans starting Saturday morning, then bake them overnight so the whole house smells like beans on Sunday morning. We wake up starving, ready to dive in, but are DENIED until dinner.
So, did Ma have a bean pot? All we read in that vivid description of her bean-making in The Long Winter, is that the beans went into a milk-pan with scrolls of molasses and a bit of salt pork.
What do you think? And how do you take your beans?
