beans

Anyone who knows my husband . . . . his mother . . . or her parents understands the importance of the pinto bean. When I first met my husband he was packing a 25 pound bag of pinto beans in a plastic tote to send to our soon to be home in the middle of the alaskan tundra. When I first met his mother, she served me the most delicious bean dinner . . . ever. I never knew that the pinto bean could be the main course. I always thought of it as a side dish. And apparently, my husband's grandmother would cook a pot of beans a week for her husband. Bean juice runs in this family's blood. Both my husband's brothers eat beans regularly and his youngest even has the nickname of pinto.

Well, being the wonderful wife that I am, I try to keep the family tradition by slow cooking a pot of beans at least twice a month. That pot will last us through a few dinners, lunches, and even breakfasts. The traditional recipe calls for beans, salt, bacon grease, maybe some chicken stock, and garlic. Every once in a while I try to put a twist on the beans. Last night I put fresh chunks of ginger in the beans. I don't recommend this. So tonight was refried beans. I got a pot with some hot EVOO and put the beans in and mashed them up with one on the many bean mashers that my mother-in-law has given us. (I think we get one every year for christmas and I love it!) So here is the big news. . . . Little Foxtrot ate them and. . . . he LOVED them. He very clearly is his father's son.

earlier today at the state park.