Baked Beans from Scratch - Instant Pot or Classic

Aunt Sissy's Baked Beans came to mind last month for two reasons: 1) Summer would be starting, and that's Baked Bean Season around here; and 2) It was the ninth anniversary of her death and I was enjoying fond memories of her. She was a very capable woman and quintessential homemaker, skilled in all the domestic arts.

Ever since I got an Instant Pot in December, I've wanted to adapt her recipe to the electric pressure cooker. If you don't have one, do make these beans Aunt Sissy's way at the post Baked Beans - From Scratch. But I think my Instant Pot version is identical, and there's no need to presoak the beans.

Usually at the end of the natural pressure release time, I take the inner cooking pot out of the Instant Pot to either cool or serve. This time, for some reason, I left it in place and learned a valuable piece of information. 

When I took the inner pot out over an hour later to put the "cooled" beans in the refrigerator, they were not cool. Leaving them in the turned-off and unplugged Instant Pot had kept them piping hot for over an hour! 

These beans are a must for every summer barbecue, and I hope you'll try them soon, either way.

Baked Beans from Scratch - Instant Pot

(Makes 8 servings) 

6 slices (about 6 ounces/170 grams) bacon, chopped

1/2 cup finely minced onion (1 small onion)
1 pound (16 ounces/454 grams) navy or small white beans
3 1/2 cups (28 fluid ounces/828 ml) water
3 tablespoons (1.31 ounces/37 grams) dark brown sugar
3 tablespoons (2.1 ounces/60 grams) unsulfured molasses
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon dry mustard
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
1/2 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper

1 to 1 1/4 cups ( 8 to 10 fluid ounces/237 to 296 ml) ketchup

1 With Instant Pot on Saute function, cook chopped bacon until crisp. Remove all but 1 tablespoon of fat from the pot. Add chopped onion, and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Be sure to scrape up all the brown bits on the bottom, adding a bit of the water if needed, to free up all that flavor and to make sure your Instant Pot won't give you the Burn signal. Turn it Off.

2 Rinse and pick over beans to remove any debris. Add beans to Instant Pot along with all remaining ingredients. Stir everything up. 

3 Put the lid in place and turn the steam valve to Sealing. Press the Pressure Cook key. Leave the indicator lights on High Pressure and Normal temperature, and change the cooking time to 45 minutes.

Note: It can take 20 to 25 minutes to reach working pressure. This varies with the amount and temperature of the ingredients in the pot. 

4 When the beep sounds, turn it off by pressing Cancel. Set a kitchen timer for 25 minutes and allow the pressure to release naturally, then do a quick release by turning the steam valve to Venting.

5 When the float valve drops down, carefully remove the lid. If the beans are not done to your liking, put the lid back on, turn the steam valve to Sealing, and cook on High Pressure for additional minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning.

Note: The cooked beans can be kept in the refrigerator for several days or in the freezer for up to 3 months.

Note: Check out Instant Pot Pinto Beans post for more info about the vagaries of dried bean cookery!

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Jean

Hamburger Gravy - But Not Like You Had at School

I never dreamed I'd be blogging about Hamburger Gravy. Shoot, I haven't eaten it since my school days and have never made it! But I was feeling a bit queasy the other day and didn't feel like eating anything except mashed potatoes, which reminded me of being home from school sick as a child and only wanting to eat mashed potatoes.

My mother told me I needed to have some protein along with my mashed potatoes, had only ground beef on hand, first thought shepherd's pie/cottage pie, but the oven was otherwise occupied. So she said she'd make some hamburger gravy. Made me shudder because that was one of the regular items on my elementary school's menu, and it was ...

... ghastly. And gluey and grey and greasy and gross. (Hey, the Five G's of Gastronomy!) Never fear, she said, it won't be like that. And it wasn't. She had a real hit on her hands. Even my dad ate some, all the while reminding her of his loathing of ground beef and making rude remarks about what the dish was called in the army!

Anyway … I thought I'd try, all these years later, to replicate her superior version of the horrid elementary school staple. The first "must" is proper browning. You have to give that ground beef and chopped onion a good 20 minutes in the pan, at least. Before you proceed with the recipe, the beef has to be well browned and starting to stick to the bottom of the pan.

I was rather shocked that Mr Delightful liked it (along with a glass of rather decent pinot noir). If something passes muster with both him and my dad, well, it has to be okay. What is your favorite childhood comfort food (nursery food, for my British readers)? And what was the worst thing on your school's lunch menu?

Hamburger Gravy

(Makes 4 servings)

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 pound (16 ounces/454 grams) lean ground beef
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
2 tablespoons unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup lower sodium chicken broth
1/2 cup water (or milk)
2 tablespoons ketchup
1 teaspoon country Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon marjoram

1 In a large skillet, cook oil, ground beef, chopped onion, salt and pepper, breaking up the meat into small pieces as it cooks and browns. Take your time with the browning, or you'll be sorry! Cook until very well browned and sticking to the bottom of the pan a bit, about 20 minutes. Of course, you don't want to burn it, but that pan bottom should be full of lovely brown bits. 

Note: If you're using a ground beef with enough fat, skip the olive oil. And if there's a lot of fat left after cooking, remove all but two tablespoons of it.

2 Stir in the flour and continue cooking and stirring for 1 to 2 minutes. Stir in the broth and deglaze the pan, scraping up all those brown bits. Stir in the water, ketchup, mustard, Worcestershire sauce and marjoram. When it's bubbling and thickening, loosely cover and simmer for about 20 minutes, or until it is as thick as you like. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve over mashed potatoes (though the rudely-named version my dad mentioned was served over toast). 

Disclosure: We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon .com and affiliated sites. We are a ThermoWorks affiliate, earning a small commission at no cost to you on purchases made through our links. This helps cover some of the costs of running the blog. Thank you for your support. 

Jean

Pork Chops and Apples

Pork Chops and Apples is a well-remembered dish from my childhood, but I make it differently. My mother browned the pork chops and made the sauce/gravy on the stove, then transferred everything to a big yellow oven-proof bowl that easily held 12 pork chops and lots of apples. 

Now I have the bowl, a vintage 1960s Pyrex 4-quart nesting mixing bowl. Though I rarely use it—somehow it seems more precious than other more delicate and valuable items that were my mother’s—I enjoy getting a glimpse of it now and then in the deep, high cupboard over the refrigerator.

Separated in age from my three (all older) siblings by a 6-, 9- and 10-year gap and having parents with their own stresses and strains, my early and middle childhood days were often quite chaotic. But whatever else went down on any given day, it all stopped for dinner. Food was what brought the family together.

Food was what brought 

the family together.

The cooking of older food writers she liked, such as Patience Gray, Elizabeth David and Julia Child, was inspired by their travels. But my mother never felt the need to travel. Her food took her anywhere she wanted to go. From the best of British and American cooking to the most complicated Chinese dishes, she was an inspired cook.

Had she been just an average cook, or a "good plain cook,” I wonder if her food would have had the same power to bring everyone together around that big table in the very middle of the kitchen. I doubt it. (Two essays that fit well with this post: Life Lesson in a Flame-Colored Pot and The Pork Chop Incident.)

So here it is: my stovetop Pork Chops and Apples. I had to make it up as I went along because my mother stopped making it once there were no longer six (and often more) at the dinner table, which was before I started writing things down as she cooked. They don’t taste like her pork chops, but they taste good!

This takes about 45 minutes from start to finish and can be made ahead (details in the directions below) for busy nights. Great with Perfect Mashed Potatoes and a vegetable or two.

Pork Chops and Apples

(Makes 3 servings)

The Apples

2 medium (about 6 ounces/170 grams each) Golden Delicious, Granny Smith or other good baking apples
2 tablespoons (1 ounce/28 grams) unsalted butter
1 1/2 teaspoons sugar

The Pork Chops

1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil
3 5-ounce 3/4-inch-thick boneless loin pork chops (pastured pork)
3/8 teaspoon salt, divided
3/4 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper, divided
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 1/2 tablespoons unbleached all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons (1 fluid ounce/30 ml) brandy
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 1/2 cups (12 fluid ounces/355 ml) lower sodium chicken broth
1/4 teaspoon marjoram
1/4 teaspoon thyme

1 Don’t peel the apples. Quarter them and with a paring knife, cut out the core from each quarter. Slice each quarter into 3 slices.

2 In 12-inch skillet over medium heat, melt the butter and sugar; stir in the apples. They should be sizzling. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes until caramelizing a little. With slotted spoon, transfer apples to a plate.

3 Add the teaspoon of oil to the pan and swirl it around. Place the chops in the hot pan, sprinkle with 1/8 teaspoon of the salt and 1/4 teaspoon of the pepper. Over medium to medium-high heat, cook for about 5 or 6 minutes until well browned. Turn, season with 1/8 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Cook for about 5 or 6 minutes until well browned. Transfer to a plate.

4 Add the butter to the skillet. Whisk in the flour and cook for 1 minute. Whisk in brandy, then balsamic vinegar and Dijon mustard, scraping up all the brown bits in the pan. Then whisk in broth, marjoram and thyme. Simmer and stir until thickened, about 5 minutes or so. Or longer—as long as it takes for the sauce to be nicely thickened and the flavors concentrated.

Note: This dish may be made ahead to this point and the pork chops, apples and sauce all refrigerated separately. Twenty minutes or so before serving, thoroughly heat up the sauce in the skillet. Add the pork chops and apples to the skillet, cover and simmer until heated through. 

5 Return chops and apples to pan, along with any liquid that collected on the plates. Sprinkle with 1/8 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Simmer over very low heat, covered loosely, for about 10 minutes to warm them through. Taste and adjust seasoning.

Disclosure: We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon .com and affiliated sites. 

Jean

Broccoli Salad - Daddy's Version

Being half Southern (on my Daddy's side), I always called my father "Daddy." Anyway ... Daddy made a great broccoli salad, the first one I ever had. I've been meaning to post it ever since I posted Broccoli Salad - A High-Protein Version, where I tell the amusing story of one of his rare forays into the kitchen. Years later, after my mother died, he did learn to make a few things. 

Note: As you can see, it's a perfect picnic or lunchbox salad, individual servings easily transportable in half-pint jars.

This salad was something he started making huge batches of anytime he was expecting anyone to come stay with him for a few days. He would just get out his biggest stainless steel bowl, which held at least 6 quarts, and start chopping stuff up until it was filled to the brim. We'd have to eat it at every meal until it was gone, or he'd say "I thought you liked broccoli salad"!

One time we stayed five nights, so we had it at nine lunches and dinners! It was a good thing we liked it because I can eat something once just to be polite, but nine times? This was the first time I've made it since he died. I feel a little rebellious writing this because he was such an introvert he wouldn't have liked being written about on the internet! 

This broccoli salad is a non-creamy, vinegar and oil, "Italian" dressing kind of salad, unlike the other one which has more ingredients and a creamy dressing with a touch of sweetness. Which kind do you prefer? I like both. Oh, at some point I'll have to tell you another salad story--one where Daddy refused to eat "that damn hippie crap"!

Daddy's Broccoli Salad

(Makes 8 servings)  

1 to 1.25 pounds broccoli, chopped
1 large green* bell pepper, chopped
3 medium tomatoes, chopped
1/4 cup very finely chopped red onion, rinsed and drained
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 teaspoon salt 
1/4 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano

* Yellow would have been lovely, but the yellow bell peppers were imported; so, of course, I bought the more "local" green ones.

1 In 2-quart bowl, combine chopped vegetables. Aim for 1/4-inch dice on the broccoli stems and bell pepper.

2 Add the remaining ingredients directly to the bowl--no need to make the dressing in a separate bowl. Stir until well combined. 

3 Cover and chill for at least 4 hours or overnight. After a couple of hours, give it a stir and taste and adjust seasoning. 

Jean

Tourtiere - French Canadian Meat Pie

Tourtiere (pronounced something like tor-tee-ehr), or simply, Meat Pie, is a dish my husband, whose father was French Canadian, remembers from childhood. Mr Delightful hadn't had this dish since his Mémé died many years ago. I decided to make it for him this week in honor of his sister who recently died.

Living far apart, we vacationed together every year and had such good times. I loved her and her sense of humor. One day on my first stay in her home we had watermelon. I was fixing some for Mr Delightful when she asked me what I was doing. When I told her that her brother only liked it this way, she rolled her eyes and said to him, "Brother, Ma would be so happy to know you married a girl who takes the seeds out of your watermelon." 

I don't know whether my sister-in-law ever made any foods from her childhood, but if she did they would have been foods from the French Canadian side because she and Mr Delightful did not think too highly of their mother's general cooking! 

Some of my sister-in-law's specialties were the Middle Eastern dishes she learned from her husband's family (here's tabbouleh). Everyone loved her stuffed grape leaves, which she always made in huge quantities. Another Middle Eastern dish she made was simply called meat rice, made with ground meat (lamb, I think) and spices, including cinnamon.

So she wouldn't have hesitated to use cinnamon in her tourtiere as many people do; but I just couldn't bring myself to do it, though I did use the allspice, mace and cloves, albeit in smaller amounts than generally called for.

Anyway ...

Cooking foods connected with a loved one who has died is one of the things that comforts me ... so ... for Linda ...

Tourtiere - French Canadian Meat Pie 

(Makes one 9-inch double-crust pie, 6 to 8 servings) 

The Meat Filling 

1 medium-large (12 ounces/340 grams) russet potato 
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil 
3/4 cup finely chopped onion (1 8-ounce onion)
1 pound (454 grams) organic pastured ground pork
3/4 pound (340 grams) organic grass-fed ground beef
3/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon poultry seasoning
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/8 teaspoon mace or nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon cloves 

The Pastry 

2 1/2 dip-and-sweep cups (12.5 ounces/354 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 sticks (8 ounces/227 grams) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes and frozen for 15 minutes
2 tablespoons lemon juice or cider vinegar
Ice water to make 3/4 cup liquid

The Egg Wash 

1 large egg
1 tablespoon water 

Note: That makes waaaaay too much egg wash for one pie, so if you hate food waste like I do, plan to use it in something else the day you make this.


1 Peel potato, cut up, boil and mash (you should have 1 to 1 1/4 cup); set aside. 

2 In large skillet, heat oil and saute onion until soft, about 10 minutes. Add the ground pork and ground beef and cook over medium heat, stirring to break up the meat so that it won't cook into clumps. Add in the seasonings as the meat cooks until most of the liquid is gone, about 20 minutes, Stir in the mashed potato, mixing well. Taste and adjust seasoning. Cover and refrigerate until completely cooled, about 2 hours. 

3 With metal blade in place, add flour, salt and baking powder to work bowl of food processor. Turn on for three seconds to combine. Add half the frozen butter and pulse for six 1-second pulses or until the frozen butter is the size of large peas. Add remaining butter and pulse for three 1-second pulses.

4 In cup, combine lemon juice or cider vinegar and ice water. Pour 1/2 cup of liquid over all of flour mixture and pulse for three 1-second pulses. If needed, add a tablespoon at a time, over all of flour mixture, doing a 1-second pulse after each tablespoon, or just until dough forms large clumps; do not over-process. (The amount of water you will need depends on your climate and the moisture content of your flour.)

5 Turn dough out onto two pieces of plastic wrap, using a little more for the bottom crust, and flatten each slightly into a 4-inch round disk. Wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

6 Roll out the bottom crust (save the plastic wrap). It should be 13 inches in diameter and about 1/8 inch thick. Transfer dough to 9-inch pie plate, pressing it in place without stretching it; cover with reserved plastic wrap and refrigerate. Roll out top crust (again, save the plastic wrap) and place it on a rimless baking sheet; cover with reserved plastic wrap and refrigerate. 

7 Preheat oven to 425F/220C/Gas7. Spoon the meat filling into the pastry-lined pie plate, pressing it down lightly to compress it a bit. Brush the edge of the pastry with water and place the top crust, pressing the edges together to seal; trim and flute.

8 Beat the egg and water together and brush crust with the egg wash. Cut some steam vents or use a fork to make a pattern of small vent holes. Bake for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 375F/190C/Gas5 and continue baking for 30 minutes. Let stand 10 minutes before cutting and serving.

Note: After the first 15 minutes, I put a pie crust shield on it to protect the already browned crimped edge.

9 Some families have the tradition of serving tourtiere with mustard, some with ketchup; still others, gherkins or pickled beets.

Jean

Tuna Melt - An American Diner Classic

Tuna melts were not on the menu at our house. My first one was served to me by the woman who would become my mother-in-law. The first time she set one before me, I had my doubts: 1) Hot tuna salad? 2) Hard-cooked egg mixed with tuna? 3) Cheese on tuna? Hey, what can I say, I was very young!

I often think of that dear lady and, during a recent illness, was remembering some of the foods she used to make for me, wishing she were here now to pamper me. So I decided to make a tuna melt in her honor. I even put the egg in it. The capers and dill are my own little touches, two things I use a lot.

I used to eat nothing but solid white albacore tuna, but then I learned that chunk light has a fraction of the mercury. I choose water-packed because I like thoroughly drained tuna, and oil-packed tuna loses a lot of its omega-3 fatty acids when you drain it. You can use whatever kind of tuna you prefer; I don't like to get too dogmatic about it!

What are your favorite things to eat when you're not feeling well?

Tuna Melt Sandwiches

(Makes 4 open-face sandwiches, 2 servings)

1 5-ounce can chunk light tuna packed in water, drained
1 large hard-cooked egg, diced
2 tablespoons diced celery
2 tablespoons diced red bell pepper
2 tablespoons diced sweet pickle
1 tablespoon minced red onion, optional
1 teaspoon capers, drained and roughly chopped
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 teaspoon country Dijon mustard
1/4 teaspoon dried dill
Pinch of coarsely ground black pepper
A squeeze of lemon
4 toasted slices of English Muffin Toasting Bread (or 4 toasted English muffin halves)

Sliced tomato, optional
Mayonnaise to spread on bread
1 cup shredded medium cheddar

1 In 1-quart bowl, stir together tuna, egg, vegetables, capers, mayonnaise, mustard, dill, pepper and lemon juice.

2 Toast the English muffins or bread; spread with mayonnaise. Lay on a slice or two of tomato, if you like. Top with tuna salad, then with shredded cheese.

3 Place on a foil-lined heavy-duty quarter sheet pan (everyone needs to have three or four of these handy little pans!). Heat under the broiler or in toaster oven until cheese is melted and bubbly.

Disclosure: Posts may include links to my affiliate account at Amazon.com, and Delightful Repast earns a few cents on the dollar if readers make a purchase, so thanks for supporting my blog when you shop at Amazon!

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Broccoli Salad - A High-Protein Version

The first time I had a broccoli salad was more than twenty years ago at my father's house. He had only cooked on two previous occasions (besides barbecue) in my entire life, but after my mother died he had to start cooking for himself. I don't recall how he came up with it--it wasn't something my mother had made--but his broccoli salad was really good and became one of his specialties for the rest of his life.

This will tell you how much he didn't cook until he had to. I understand, married to the world's greatest cook, why cook? But my mother actually timed her outings around my father's meals on the days he wasn't working. One day she and I got a bit carried away in town and didn't make it back quite on time. Daddy had actually gone into the kitchen and made himself a ham and cheese sandwich. We got there just in time to see him take his first bite. He gave his head a little shake as if biting down on something "tough." Then he peeled back the top slice of bread to see what the deal was. We spotted the telltale glint of light on plastic. Turns out he had used an individually wrapped cheese slice without unwrapping it. It had been so many years since he had made a sandwich, he didn't know about such things. Needless to say, he was totally disgusted.

So he had a lot to learn once he was on his own. His specialties were beef stew, pot roast and broccoli salad. We loved it, but I still can't quite bring myself to make it. When I do, I'll post it here because I'm sure you'll like it.

In the meantime, here's a broccoli salad I just had for the first time at a big potluck dinner. Not having the recipe, I just wrote down what all I thought was in it and went from there. Since it came out really well, I'm sharing it with you. And, someday, I'll share Daddy's Broccoli Salad [added two years later] with you too!

If you're vegetarian or vegan, this salad can be a good source of protein with its black beans, edamame and sunflower seeds. I like to "beef up" all sorts of things with beans; I'd probably waste away without them! (I was short on broccoli for the batch in the photo, so it looks more like edamame salad!) 

If you like it, please Pin it and share it! 

Broccoli Salad

(Makes eight 1-cup servings)

3 to 3 1/2 cups (12 ounces) finely chopped raw broccoli
1 15-ounce can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 10-ounce bag frozen shelled edamame, cooked and cooled
1/4 cup very finely chopped red onion, rinsed and drained
1/3 cup roasted and salted sunflower seeds
1/3 cup dried cranberries, finely chopped
1/2 cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper

1 In 2- to 2.5-quart bowl, combine broccoli, beans, onion, sunflower seeds and cranberries.

2 In small bowl, whisk together remaining ingredients.

3 Stir dressing into salad. Cover and chill for at least 4 hours or overnight.

Jean

Life Lesson in a Flame-Colored Pot - Le Creuset

Last year Le Creuset held an essay contest in honor of their 85th anniver- sary. Runners-up received a Le Creuset 5 1/2 Quart Round French Oven in the color of their choice. I chose the Black Onyx, but I rather wish I had chosen the Flame (for sentimental reasons). Here is my runner-up winning submission.

Life Lesson in a Flame-Colored Pot

My mother was a world-class cook, turning out fabulous meals for a family of six in the humble kitchen of my early childhood. And there were always extra people at our table. My parents didn't have a lot of money in those days, but they spent a disproportionate amount of the budget on food. My father, having grown up on a rather monotonous diet during the Great Depression, spared no expense when it came to food. It was important to him that his children have a varied and abundant diet.

This extended to anyone, children in particular, with whom he came in contact. Though my mother had never experienced the privations my father had, she was a very compassionate person as well. Needless to say, then, we often had twice our number for dinner.

My mother had acquired her flame-colored Le Creuset Round French Oven (not sure whether it was the 4.5- or the 5.5-quart) second-hand. With so many to cook for, family and guests, that gorgeous pan never had time to cool off.

One Saturday when my father was out pruning the trees and hedges, a man stopped to ask him if he could help. He was a migrant worker looking for some work in the off-season. My dad wasn't in the habit of hiring anyone to do work that he could do himself, but he wanted to help the man. So he hired him to take over the pruning. He was with us for a few days, during which time he was welcomed to our table.

The man did a beautiful job with the pruning (definitely an art) and also had talents in the kitchen. He loved food and insisted on helping, so my mother put him to work. On his last day she was going to be making a beef stew, and he took it over completely and added his own ethnic touches. He was delighted to be cooking in such a fine pot as the Le Creuset, and the stew was delicious.

A day or two later, I noticed the flame-colored pot was nowhere to be seen. I asked my mother where it was. Turns out, it had given the man such pleasure to use it that it gave my mother even more pleasure to give it to him when he left. She never got another.