January continues to do what January does, which is insist on itself. Long evenings. A particular cold in the air that does not commit to being properly cold, just damp and gray and unhelpful. I have been burning more candles than usual and cooking soups that take all day.
This week I made a ham and bean soup that started Sunday with a ham hock I had in the freezer from November and ended Monday evening as something I ate for three days with enormous satisfaction. Ham and bean soup is the kind of food that does not photograph well and does not make anyone say anything particular when you tell them you made it, but it is one of the most reliable sources of comfort I know. The beans absorb the ham and the ham gives itself to the broth and by the time it is done you cannot separate them. They have become one thing, which is how the best long-cooked food works.
I had a long phone call with Destiny this week about her work. She is in the home stretch of her supervised hours for her LCSW licensure — she has been working toward this for years and the end is in sight now, maybe by April. She talks about her clients in the careful way therapists do, without names or specifics, but with a quality of investment that tells me she is good at this work. She described a moment in session that week where she realized she was saying something to a client that someone should have said to her years ago, and the feeling that came with it. I said, that is the point of the work, I think. You heal something in yourself and it turns out the door you came through is the door someone else needed opened. She was quiet for a moment and then said, where did you get that? I said I don't know, I think I just know things sometimes. She laughed and said, yes you do, Mama.
The soup was already on its second day when I mixed this bread together — it takes almost no time and costs almost no effort, which is exactly right when the real work is already happening on the stove. There is something satisfying about having bread ready when the soup is ready, the two of them finishing at the same time the way good things sometimes do. I thought about Destiny while I stirred it, about the long hours she has put in and the end that is finally coming into view, and I think I baked with a little extra tenderness that evening.
Honey Beer Bread
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 10 slices
Ingredients
- 3 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 tablespoon baking powder
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 3 tablespoons honey
- 1 (12 oz) bottle beer (lager or ale works well)
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted (divided)
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan with butter or nonstick spray and set aside.
- Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt until evenly combined.
- Add the wet ingredients. Pour in the beer and honey. Stir with a wooden spoon or spatula until just combined — the batter will be thick and a little shaggy. Do not overmix.
- Transfer and top. Spoon the batter into the prepared loaf pan and smooth the top. Drizzle 2 tablespoons of the melted butter evenly over the surface.
- Bake. Bake for 45–50 minutes, until the top is deep golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. In the last 5 minutes, brush the remaining tablespoon of melted butter over the top.
- Cool before slicing. Let the loaf rest in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn it out onto a wire rack. Slice and serve warm alongside soup or on its own.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 195 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 290mg