My options were black lentils, red lentil, split peas and a foofoo bag of lima beans tied with a ribbon--god knows where they came from, since all this would have been purchased in 2008 prior to the kitchen remodel. I would have preferred something fresher and smaller, like a navy bean, but the prep I had in mind needed a white bean so I chose the limas, and after soaking them for an hour added the drained beans to another pot with a quart of chicken broth, two quarts of water, a can of tomato sauce, a teaspoon of dried thyme, about half a cup of Noilly Prat dry white vermouth poured straight from the bottle, about 4 ounces of chopped bacon, a chopped onion, a garlic clove, a teaspoon of cracked pepper and a few fresh bay leaves from the garden. Got that up to a nice simmer, put the lid on and went off to do other things.
About an hour and a half later I went to check on my soup, removed the lid and found: a pot full of thumbs. Or rather, a pan of beans so large and so fat, I screamed. These apparently, were the variety of bean I knew about but have never cooked before called 'Gigante'. I don't remember having them or ever having ever seen them for sale, but I'm sure I knew exactly what they were when I bought them, probably at some foodie boutique hence the foo foo packaging. And boy, they're muy gigante allright.
So Bob comes home and he's tired and a bit depressed--needs to complain in a quiet voice about work and then just sit on the sofa with a cat in his lap. So I listen contentedly and go about my little kitchen tasks so that dinner can be a little earlier than usual. To finish the soup, about five minutes before serving I brightened it with another dollop of vermouth, a fresh layer of cracked black pepper, and a handful of shredded green cabbage.
So I put the white mug of steaming soup on a clear, square plate already adorned with a chopped tomato and escarole salad with shaved parmesan--a striking combination of the red-green of the soup repeating in the salad, and I proudly set it before my love from whom praise about the attractiveness of the colors or the deliciousness of the aromas or whatever else he notices first can always be expected. And he says, "Those are the biggest f---ing beans I've ever seen."
I'll never forget this meal.
and a bag of various beans and lentils that, feeling lazy, I'd purchased at the grocery for this purpose. Seasoned it with garlic, thyme and bay leaf and added chopped tomato, celery, onion, bell pepper and slices of smoked andouille as it cooked. Sure enough, the damn lima beans expanded to a huge size but were fortunately a minor component of the mix. We still have a bit left after dining on it on several snow-bound nights.