In light of (in honor of) recent family medical events, I want to share my dad's recipe. While I do know men who have full recipe card boxes (well, at least one) and many who know how to open a cookbook and follow instructions, most dads these days rely on pizza delivery, takeout and fast food when the moms are absent for the evening. Very few, I suspect, have their own recipes. Hardy Beans is that recipe for my dad, or Pop Pop as he goes by these days. This is the one he used on "dad's night."
My husband's recipe for these occasions is simply: remove from freezer, open box, place in oven, remove from oven, sprinkle with red pepper flakes. My dad's recipe was only slightly more involved than that and was implemented a lot more often.
When he was 30, my dad was married, father of four, and full-time college student. To make this possible, logistically and financially, my mom worked the evening shift as a supervising nurse at the local hospital. So many days, if not most, dad was supervisor of the supper-time shift. This was in the late 1960's, so pizza delivery was not all that common.. Although McDonald's was around (though not having served a billion hamburgers yet) it was not within walking distance and my parents had only one car between them (a Volkswagon bus). Besides, McDonald's, not yet the corporate behemoth it is now, really was a special occasion deal for our family. Probably Mom prepared some meals for us ahead of time, and probably Dad had more in his repertoire, but the recipe that stuck with me (and my siblings) is Hardy Beans. Just three ingredients made this nutritious and delicious repast: One pound of ground chuck, one can of baked beans, and about a half a bottle of ketchup. And the method was as simple as it gets: brown meat, add beans, heat through, add ketchup to taste.
As I read that now, I admit it does not sound all that appealing. Dad claims we loved it so much we begged him to make it. Mom shudders anytime it is mentioned, swearing she herself never made it or ate it. According to Dad, the time period when he served it was short lived, too. Having completed most of his degree requirements through night-school, he finished college a year or so later and perhaps, never made Hardy Beans again. But we kids talked about it and laughed about it for years afterward. As a young adult I made it my own go-to camping meal. The meat stayed frozen in my backpack until the first night's campfire meal. Cooking it on a campfire brought on dual feelings of "Look at me! I'm a big girl impressing my friends with my camping skills!" and "Oh what I wouldn't give to be the baby of the family again." I still sometimes long for that time when we were all cozy in our matching hooded sweatshirts, squished together on a bench in the warm kitchen of a tiny rented house, waiting for our cooking, always singing, dad to put dinner on the table.
So as this baby girl grew older, I tweeked and embellished this basic recipe in innumerable ways. Adding onions and peppers to the browning meat, substituting real tomatoes for the ketchup, using any kind of beans to avoid the ubiquitous can of Heinz Pork and Beans. During my 10 year vegetarian stint, I traded the meat for barley pearls. Sauteed with caramelized or toasted onions and a bit of red wine, barely takes on a nutty flavor and chewiness just like ground chuck (well, almost.)
Tonight, in honor of Pop Pop's recent surgery, I think I'll make it with kidney beans.
Post Script: As with any discussion about words in my family, the dictionary was consulted when I tried to confirm the spelling of the name of this never written out recipe, hardy or hearty? Mom was insisting on hearty as it describes food. Dad said he always assumed it was hardy. Instinctively, Mom reached for her ever handy Webster's New Collegiate that she received for her 75th birthday from her four-year-old grandson. (The previous version had been given to her on her 40th birthday by her father.)
Standing in the doorway of the room where my father in his comfy chair recovered from his recent radical nephrectomy, my mother read from the giant tome held in one hand while the other hand waived in the air, looking much like a preacher. Upon hearing the two definitions, abundant, rich, or flavorful enough to satisfy the appetite... or ... inured to fatigue or hardships, robust, capable of withstanding adverse conditions, he chose the latter, perhaps recalling those exhausting times spent making dinner for four little hoodlums and simultaneously making Dean's List. And as with most of the arguments I have witnessed between my parents, they were both so right, it's no wonder they argue.
Want the recipe? Follow my dad's recipe, or get more involved with my version of it. Either way, it is a hearty (or hardy) one-dish skillet meal, perfect for a rainy/snowy winter evening like tonight.
Hardy Beans
One pound ground meat of choice (lean beef, pork, meatloaf mix or turkey)
One medium yellow onion, diced
One can of Bush's baked beans
or
One 12-oz can of kidney beans, drained
One tablespoon molasses or brown sugar
One tablespoon apple cider vinegar
One can of diced tomatoes, undrained
Salt and pepper to taste
Brown the meat, add the onions and saute stirring occasionally until onions are translucent and sweet smelling. Add beans and tomatoes, salt and pepper. Simmer for 15-20 minutes. Garnish with crumbled cheese of choice. Serve with crusty bread and butter.
My husband's recipe for these occasions is simply: remove from freezer, open box, place in oven, remove from oven, sprinkle with red pepper flakes. My dad's recipe was only slightly more involved than that and was implemented a lot more often.
When he was 30, my dad was married, father of four, and full-time college student. To make this possible, logistically and financially, my mom worked the evening shift as a supervising nurse at the local hospital. So many days, if not most, dad was supervisor of the supper-time shift. This was in the late 1960's, so pizza delivery was not all that common.. Although McDonald's was around (though not having served a billion hamburgers yet) it was not within walking distance and my parents had only one car between them (a Volkswagon bus). Besides, McDonald's, not yet the corporate behemoth it is now, really was a special occasion deal for our family. Probably Mom prepared some meals for us ahead of time, and probably Dad had more in his repertoire, but the recipe that stuck with me (and my siblings) is Hardy Beans. Just three ingredients made this nutritious and delicious repast: One pound of ground chuck, one can of baked beans, and about a half a bottle of ketchup. And the method was as simple as it gets: brown meat, add beans, heat through, add ketchup to taste.
As I read that now, I admit it does not sound all that appealing. Dad claims we loved it so much we begged him to make it. Mom shudders anytime it is mentioned, swearing she herself never made it or ate it. According to Dad, the time period when he served it was short lived, too. Having completed most of his degree requirements through night-school, he finished college a year or so later and perhaps, never made Hardy Beans again. But we kids talked about it and laughed about it for years afterward. As a young adult I made it my own go-to camping meal. The meat stayed frozen in my backpack until the first night's campfire meal. Cooking it on a campfire brought on dual feelings of "Look at me! I'm a big girl impressing my friends with my camping skills!" and "Oh what I wouldn't give to be the baby of the family again." I still sometimes long for that time when we were all cozy in our matching hooded sweatshirts, squished together on a bench in the warm kitchen of a tiny rented house, waiting for our cooking, always singing, dad to put dinner on the table.
So as this baby girl grew older, I tweeked and embellished this basic recipe in innumerable ways. Adding onions and peppers to the browning meat, substituting real tomatoes for the ketchup, using any kind of beans to avoid the ubiquitous can of Heinz Pork and Beans. During my 10 year vegetarian stint, I traded the meat for barley pearls. Sauteed with caramelized or toasted onions and a bit of red wine, barely takes on a nutty flavor and chewiness just like ground chuck (well, almost.)
Tonight, in honor of Pop Pop's recent surgery, I think I'll make it with kidney beans.
Post Script: As with any discussion about words in my family, the dictionary was consulted when I tried to confirm the spelling of the name of this never written out recipe, hardy or hearty? Mom was insisting on hearty as it describes food. Dad said he always assumed it was hardy. Instinctively, Mom reached for her ever handy Webster's New Collegiate that she received for her 75th birthday from her four-year-old grandson. (The previous version had been given to her on her 40th birthday by her father.)
Standing in the doorway of the room where my father in his comfy chair recovered from his recent radical nephrectomy, my mother read from the giant tome held in one hand while the other hand waived in the air, looking much like a preacher. Upon hearing the two definitions, abundant, rich, or flavorful enough to satisfy the appetite... or ... inured to fatigue or hardships, robust, capable of withstanding adverse conditions, he chose the latter, perhaps recalling those exhausting times spent making dinner for four little hoodlums and simultaneously making Dean's List. And as with most of the arguments I have witnessed between my parents, they were both so right, it's no wonder they argue.
Want the recipe? Follow my dad's recipe, or get more involved with my version of it. Either way, it is a hearty (or hardy) one-dish skillet meal, perfect for a rainy/snowy winter evening like tonight.
Hardy Beans
One pound ground meat of choice (lean beef, pork, meatloaf mix or turkey)
One medium yellow onion, diced
One can of Bush's baked beans
or
One 12-oz can of kidney beans, drained
One tablespoon molasses or brown sugar
One tablespoon apple cider vinegar
One can of diced tomatoes, undrained
Salt and pepper to taste
Brown the meat, add the onions and saute stirring occasionally until onions are translucent and sweet smelling. Add beans and tomatoes, salt and pepper. Simmer for 15-20 minutes. Garnish with crumbled cheese of choice. Serve with crusty bread and butter.
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