When I was growing up, I used to tell everyone that my mother was an excellent cook. I truly believed it and meant it sincerely. In recent years, however, I have been more apt to share the horrors of my mother’s cooking, often using carrots as the measure of her kitchen. We always had canned vegetables, usually only corn, peas, and green beans, although occasionally a can of spinach would appear. One time, I think I was in high school by then, I had eaten somewhere else (I don’t remember where or why), and had been served fresh carrots. I really liked the carrots, and I asked my mother why we never had cooked carrots for supper. This was when she explained to me that carrots take an hour to cook, whereas canned peas take only 15 minutes.
This didn’t seem like a problem to me, because she had already told me that meat needs at least an hour to cook (pork chops, steak, and chicken breasts included), so I didn’t see how that would affect the timing of a meal, but we were at an end nonetheless.
It is tempting to go on with the examples as I usually do (and there are so many to choose from!), but my point today is that I do sometimes judge her unfairly. It is not right for me to hold her to my current standards when she didn’t have the equivalent tools or ingredients or resources available. (The carrots are particularly egregious, however. And it’s better that I not mention roast beef at all.)
It is fair to say that my mother was not an adventurous cook. She liked Shake ‘n’ Bake and Stove Top Stuffing (we frequently had them together), and Campbell’s Soup was always at home in her cupboard. To her credit, she always made macaroni and cheese from scratch, using Cabot Cheddar, and she never bought Hamburger Helper, for which I am particularly grateful. But spaghetti was always made with Ragu, and the only ingredient in her meatballs was ground beef. It could have been much worse, so I should stop making fun of those meals and simply remember how much I enjoyed them at the time.
My children inhabit a very different gastronomic world. Where my childhood self ate spaghetti, my children eat “pasta with red sauce,” and they differentiate between sauce Bolognese and marinara. For them, spaghetti is a type of long pasta that comes in several diameters, each of which is distinguishable from all other long pastas. It is a cultural shift, one in which my mother never fully participated.
When I was learning to cook for a family, I spent a lot of time reading articles on nutrition and balanced diets. This was before the emphasis was on local and seasonal, but much of it was not out of line with what became the localvore “movement.” It did tend to have a “hippie” feel about it, however, and that didn’t coincide with the corporate Spam/WonderBread/Fritos world of processed foods I had always known, so it took me a particularly long time to be able to cook a nutritious dish such as White Bean Salad in a way that I found both palatable and unaffected.
My mother had always made baked beans, and that was really the only bean dish she ever served, so White Bean Salad is truly a departure from the foods of my youth.
I am not going to give quantities here, as you can make as little or as much as you like. I like to make a big bowl full of this salad because I know it will keep for at least a week in the refrigerator, so it will always be there for a quick meal. It is better made in advance if you can, and it is better still after a day or two.
I don’t like to use canned beans. Environmentally, I don’t like the idea of using metal for the cans (and having to recycle it), so I try to avoid canned products where possible. I do sometimes serve canned tuna with this salad which is contradictory, but using dried beans is nevertheless a big reduction in waste. Moreover, I don’t like the texture of canned beans — they have a funny taste too. I buy dried beans in bulk at the co-op. They have a wide variety of beans available, and the beans are usually much fresher than the ones at the big grocery stores, so they cook faster and more evenly.
It happened that this time around, I used 1 1/2 pounds of beans (I think these are navy beans; they are quite tiny) and the shallots you see pictured. I don’t always have shallots on hand, and it happened that these were still good in my cupboard (I had bought them quite some time ago, and they don’t usually keep so well), so I decided to use them before they spoiled. The salad is much better with the shallots, but if you don’t have them, you can use just red onion. (The red onion is important for color; white onion on white beans is rather dull.)
To cook the beans, especially with tiny beans like these, I have adapted the “quick soaking” method. Sometimes I remember to soak them overnight, and sometimes I don’t decide to make the salad until morning, so either way, I cover the beans in the pot with cold water, put the pot on high heat and bring to a boil.
When the beans reach boiling (usually I am alerted to this by the sound of the beans boiling over), I turn off the heat and cover the pot, and allow the beans to sit until cool. With very small, fresh beans, this will be enough cooking for them to become tender. For this particular batch, I brought the beans to a boil a second time and after about 10 additional minutes of sitting off the heat, they were fully cooked. If you find that after the first time of doing this that your beans are quite hard still, allow them to simmer (without boiling) for an hour or so, or until they are fully cooked.
While the beans are cooking, I finely chop some red onion, shallots if I have them, and plenty of celery. The onion and shallot I put in the salad bowl and sprinkle with a little white-wine vinegar. The acid in the vinegar mellows the sharpness of the alliums so they are more palatable when eaten raw.
When the beans are tender, I add them to the salad bowl while they are still hot, and drizzle them with olive oil and more white-wine vinegar. The beans will absorb the vinegar and oil better while they are hot. Then I add the celery and some herbs, in this case thyme and marjoram, although last summer, not having my windowsill herb garden, I used dried herbs de Provence successfully. I add salt and pepper to taste, and additional vinegar and/or oil if necessary. I toss it all together well and let it for several hours or overnight, if I am planning ahead.
When I am ready to serve the salad, it is good just plain, although I often will plate it on a bed of lettuce and tomato, and top it with flaked tuna. Over this I drizzle a little more olive oil and squeeze a bit of lemon for brightness against the fish. I sprinkle on a little more salt and pepper, and it’s ready to go.
This is a good salad for buffets and picnics because it will keep well at room temperature, in addition to the convenience of being able to make it a day or two ahead of time. Last summer, I made it when we were moving, and it was a ready lunch for us. Even my brother liked this, and he is typically a bologna-on-white-bread kind of guy, so I take this as sign that the salad has mass appeal.
Tea Time at the Old Hotel 