British Baked Beans

February. The mainland states are buried. We had rain Tuesday. Pre-deployment workups have been ramping up. Ryan was gone Wednesday through Friday for a field exercise.

Caleb, 7, wants to be a firefighter still. Has not deviated. Hazel, 3, chaos incarnate. Put a peanut butter sandwich in the DVD player Wednesday. Showed zero remorse.

Shepherd's pie Sunday. Ground beef and frozen peas and instant mashed potatoes because I am a woman who knows her limits.

Mom called Sunday. We talked while she was putting up tomatoes from the garden. She is sixty-something and gardening like she is forty.

Donna would say: dinner at 1800, no exceptions. We did 1800.

Donna sent a recipe card in the mail this week. She has been doing this for years. The recipes go in the binder. The binder is full. The newest one is for a green bean casserole that uses fresh green beans and fried shallots and which I will absolutely make for the next holiday.

Base housing is base housing. Beige walls, beige carpet, beige expectations. The dryer venting is in a stupid place. The kitchen has no dishwasher. We make it work.

The kids' soccer game was Saturday morning. The other parents brought oranges and Capri Suns. I brought a thermos of coffee for myself and a folding chair I bought at Target three years ago that has been to four duty stations now. The chair is a more loyal companion than some of my friends.

I sat at the kitchen table Tuesday night writing in the journal. Volume 10 now. The handwriting has not gotten neater. The journals are a record of the life I am living, in the moment, in tiny script that I will look back on someday and not be able to read. That is okay. The writing was the thing.

Ryan's friends came over Friday for a beer. I made wings and chips. They demolished both. Standard Marine appetite — they eat like they are still on rations. The kitchen looked like a battlefield by the end. They cleaned up. Marines clean up. Donna would have been impressed.

Caleb's school had a fundraiser this week. I baked cookies because I always bake cookies. The cookies were the standard chocolate chip. They sold out in twenty minutes. I am the cookie mom of this PTO and I have stopped fighting it.

Hazel and I had a hard moment Tuesday at homework time. She is in a season of testing limits. We worked through it. We always do. She is mine.

I read the blog comments at the kitchen table with my coffee. A young spouse in Lejeune emailed me about deployment cooking. I wrote her back at length. I told her about the freezer. I told her about Donna. I told her she would survive. I sent her three of Donna's recipes.

Caleb watched the firefighters at a school visit Wednesday and came home buzzing. He is going to be one. I have known this since he was four. Some kids tell you who they are early.

My therapy session was Tuesday. We talked about the deployment cycle and the way the body holds dread and the ways the body holds it. The hour passed. The work continues. I have been doing this work for years. The work pays.

Wednesday morning meal prep — Sunday afternoon, hours of containers. The freezer is full. The future-me thanks present-me. Donna taught me this routine. Donna's freezer was always full. Donna saved her sanity with quart bags labeled in Sharpie.

The PCS rumors are starting again. The official orders will come in a few months. We could move. We could stay. The waiting is the worst part. Three years here and I have learned to not put down deep roots in any military town. Nineteen-year-old me would not have believed how good I have gotten at packing.

Shepherd’s Pie Sunday is a tradition in this house, and British Baked Beans have become the thing I make alongside it when I want the meal to feel like more than survival—when I want it to feel like something Donna would have put on the table. They take a little longer than opening a can, but not so long that a woman managing two kids, a field exercise schedule, and a dryer vented in a stupid place can’t pull it off. This one goes in the binder.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 15 min | Total Time: 1 hr 30 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 cans (15 oz each) navy beans or haricot beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (14.5 oz) crushed tomatoes
1/2 cup tomato paste
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon dry mustard powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1 cup low-sodium vegetable or chicken broth

Instructions

Soften the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed saucepan or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent, about 6–8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Build the sauce. Stir in the tomato paste and cook for 2 minutes, letting it caramelize slightly against the bottom of the pan. Add the crushed tomatoes, broth, Worcestershire sauce, brown sugar, mustard powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper. Stir to combine.
Add the beans. Fold in the drained beans and bring the mixture to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to low.
Simmer low and slow. Cover partially and simmer on low heat for 50–60 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes, until the sauce has thickened and the beans are tender and coated. Add a splash of broth if the mixture gets too thick before beans are done.
Taste and finish. Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot alongside toast, eggs, mashed potatoes, or as a hearty side to Shepherd’s Pie.

Nutrition (per serving)

British Baked Beans — The Comfort Food That Shows Up When You Need It