Last night dropped to 27 degrees, one of our handful of real freezes each winter, and this morning the grass in the back yard crunched under Pepper's feet. She went out, considered the situation, and came straight back in to stand by the heat register in the hallway. I understood completely. By nine o'clock I had a pound of dried red beans soaking in the big yellow bowl on the counter, because a week like this calls for a pot of something that simmers all afternoon.
Red beans and rice is Monday food in a lot of Southern kitchens, and it earns that spot. It is cheap, it stretches, it tastes better on the second and third day, and it makes the whole house smell like supper is handled.
What you need
Prices are rough, from our Food Lion this week. It makes about eight generous servings.
| Ingredient | Rough cost |
|---|---|
| 1 lb dried red kidney beans | $1.80 |
| 12 oz smoked sausage, sliced into coins | $3.50 |
| 1 large onion, diced | $0.90 |
| 1 green bell pepper, diced | $0.80 |
| 3 ribs celery, diced | $0.60 |
| 4 cloves garlic, minced | $0.30 |
| 2 bay leaves, 1 tsp dried thyme, 1 tsp smoked paprika, black pepper, a pinch of cayenne | $0.50 |
| Salt and a splash of hot sauce | pantry |
| 2 cups long-grain white rice, for serving | $1.20 |
| Sliced green onions, for serving | $0.80 |
Total: about $11, or under a dollar fifty a bowl.
How I make it
- Soak the beans. Cover them with a few inches of water and soak overnight, or at least six hours. Drain and rinse. If you forget, bring them to a boil, turn off the heat, and let them sit covered for an hour.
- Brown the sausage. In a heavy pot over medium heat, brown the sausage coins until the edges darken, about six minutes. Scoop them out and leave the fat behind.
- Cook the vegetables. Add the onion, bell pepper and celery to the pot. Cook, stirring now and then, until soft and starting to color, eight to ten minutes. Add the garlic for the last minute.
- Add everything else. Stir in the beans, bay leaves, thyme, paprika, a good grind of black pepper and the cayenne. Pour in enough water to cover by about two inches, roughly eight cups.
- Simmer low and slow. Bring to a boil, then turn it down to a lazy simmer with the lid slightly ajar. Stir every half hour or so, adding water if it gets thick too early. Plan on two to three hours.
- Make it creamy. When the beans are completely tender, mash a cup or so against the side of the pot with the back of a wooden spoon and stir it in. Return the sausage. Simmer another thirty minutes until it is thick enough to hold a spoon's track.
- Season at the end. Salt now, not earlier. Taste, add hot sauce, taste again.
- Serve. Over plain white rice with green onions on top.
Notes from our kitchen
On the meat
Any smoked sausage works. When the farmers market has a smoked ham hock in the fall, I buy one and freeze it for exactly this pot. Drop it in with the beans and pull the meat off the bone at the end. For a meatless version, skip the sausage, cook the vegetables in a little oil, and use extra smoked paprika.
On the texture
The mashing step is what turns a pot of beans into red beans and rice. Skip it and you have bean soup, which is fine but not the same. If it gets too thick overnight in the fridge, loosen it with a splash of water when you reheat.
On the week
This is how one pot carries us through cold weather:
- Monday: Straight up, over rice, with cornbread if anyone is ambitious.
- Wednesday: Reheated, with a fried egg on top for me and Ben. Lila prefers hers with shredded cheese.
- Friday: The last two cups, thinned with a little broth and served as soup with crackers.
It also freezes beautifully in quart containers for up to three months, minus the rice.
On a six-year-old
Lila was suspicious of beans until she was allowed to mash them herself. Handing a child a wooden spoon and permission to smash things is, I have found, the fastest route to an empty bowl.
An afternoon well spent
The pot has been going since lunchtime. The windows over the sink are fogged at the corners, Pepper has moved from the heat register to the kitchen rug where she can keep an eye on the stove, and Ben just walked in from the carport, sniffed, and asked how long until supper. About forty minutes, I told him. He sat down at the table to wait, which in our house is the surest sign a recipe is a keeper.
