Five-Bean Soup — The Other Half of Saturday Night

December. The woodstove earns its keep unambiguously in December. I have been stoking it since the last week of November — the cold came early this year, an Arctic air mass that slid down from Quebec and sat on Vermont like a held breath. Twenty-two degrees Wednesday morning. Frost did not want to leave the house. I do not blame him.

Helen has begun her Christmas baking, which is a project of considerable scope. She starts early December with the basics: shortbread, gingerbread cookies for the grandchildren, the rolled sugar cookies that Anna and Teddy will decorate when they visit. Then the molasses cookies — my father's favorite, a recipe my mother wrote out for Helen in 1980, the year we married, which is one of those transfers of kitchen knowledge that no one thinks to record but which carries forward an entire culinary culture if you pay attention to it.

I help with the baking about as much as Helen's kitchen tolerates, which is to say: I am permitted to operate the stand mixer without supervision, I am not permitted to adjust oven temperatures under any circumstances, and I am encouraged to stay out of the way during the decorating stage, which is less a baking operation and more a grandchild-management exercise.

I made brown bread this week — the steamed kind, in coffee cans, the way my mother made it. Dark molasses, cornmeal, rye flour, a little buttermilk, baking soda for lift. The batter goes into well-greased coffee cans, a foil lid tied on with twine, set in a pot of simmering water for three hours. The result: a dense, sweet, dark bread that sounds like it should be terrible and is instead one of the great foods of the world. My mother served it with baked beans on Saturday nights without fail from as far back as I can remember. Now I serve it the same way. Some dishes are not recipes; they are inheritance.

Sarah called Sunday. Lucy is eighteen months old and has apparently developed strong opinions about what she will and will not eat, which Sarah describes as exhausting. I said this was hereditary. Sarah asked who from. I said her mother. Sarah was not entirely convinced. Neither was I.

The brown bread does not stand alone — it never has. My mother’s Saturday night table was always the bread and the beans together, one dark and dense, the other smoky and slow. Since I have already told you about the bread, it seems only right to give you the beans as well, or the nearest honest version of them: a Five-Bean Soup that holds the same warmth, the same intention, the same sense that a cold December evening calls for something that has been working on the stove for a good long while. This is the soup I set out when the woodstove is doing its job and the frost has not left the windows by mid-morning.

Five-Bean Soup

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 can (15 oz) black beans, rinsed and drained
• 1 can (15 oz) dark red kidney beans, rinsed and drained
• 1 can (15 oz) navy beans, rinsed and drained
• 1 can (15 oz) pinto beans, rinsed and drained
• 1 can (15 oz) great northern beans, rinsed and drained
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 medium yellow onion, diced
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 medium carrots, sliced into rounds
• 2 stalks celery, sliced
• 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
• 6 cups low-sodium chicken broth or vegetable broth
• 1 cup diced smoked ham (optional)
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• Salt to taste
• 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped (for serving)

Instructions

1. Saute the aromatics. Warm olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and carrots and cook 2 minutes more, until fragrant.
2. Build the base. Add the diced tomatoes with their juices, broth, bay leaf, thyme, oregano, smoked paprika, and black pepper. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle boil over medium-high heat.
3. Add the beans and ham. Stir in all five cans of rinsed beans and the diced ham if using. Return to a simmer, then reduce heat to medium-low.
4. Simmer slowly. Cook uncovered for 30 to 35 minutes, stirring occasionally, until carrots are tender and the broth has thickened slightly. If you prefer a thicker soup, use the back of a wooden spoon to mash a small portion of beans against the side of the pot.
5. Season and finish. Remove and discard the bay leaf. Taste and adjust salt as needed. Ladle into bowls and scatter fresh parsley over the top before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 275 | Protein: 17g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 13g | Sodium: 660mg