By Valentine's Day fell on Thursday. I'm not in a relationship, so it passed for me in the way unobserved holidays pass: acknowledged, moved on. Tom Whelan and I had a farrier day together at a new account he was handing off to me — an older couple with two horses near Roundup, more than Tom wanted to drive for the money and exactly the kind of small account that fills a day productively. We worked through both horses in a morning and had lunch at the couple's kitchen table, which is one of the pleasures of farrier work: you get invited in. The kitchen table is a window into a life.
The older couple, the Bakers, had lived on their property for forty years. The kitchen had the particular worn quality of forty years of the same meals in the same place — the same coffee pot, the same dishes on the same shelves. Mrs. Baker fed us soup and homemade bread. Tom ate and told ranch stories. The Bakers listened. I ate and watched Tom be exactly who he's always been and thought about what it means to be known, over time, in a community where you've been showing up for forty years.
I want that. I want to be the person who has been showing up for forty years. I'm starting now — I'm twenty-four, and these nine accounts, these ranch neighbors and boarders and equestrians, they're going to know me when I'm sixty-four if I do this right. That's the project. Show up for forty years and be the person who showed up for forty years.
Mom made her winter minestrone this week — canned tomatoes from last summer, dried pasta, canned beans, whatever's left in the root cellar. February soup. Patient and ordinary.
Mom’s minestrone was already on my mind when I got home that evening, but it was Mrs. Baker’s kitchen I kept coming back to — that worn, settled feeling of forty years of the same good meals in the same good place. I asked Mom if she’d make the bean soup this week instead, the one with the ham bone she’d been saving. It’s not fancy, but it’s exactly the kind of soup that feels like something: patient, ordinary, the kind you make when you’re not trying to impress anyone, just feeding people who showed up.
Ham and Bean Soup
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 30 min | Total Time: 1 hr 45 min | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 lb dried navy beans, soaked overnight and drained (or 3 cans white beans, drained and rinsed)
- 1 meaty ham bone, or 2 cups diced cooked ham
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 3 medium carrots, sliced into rounds
- 3 stalks celery, sliced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
- 6 cups low-sodium chicken broth
- 2 cups water
- 2 bay leaves
- 1 tsp dried thyme
- 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 2 tbsp olive oil
- Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving
Instructions
- Soak the beans. If using dried navy beans, cover with cold water by 2 inches and soak overnight. Drain and rinse before using. Skip this step if using canned beans.
- Sweat the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion, carrots, and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 6–8 minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more.
- Build the base. Add the ham bone or diced ham, drained beans, diced tomatoes with their juices, chicken broth, water, bay leaves, thyme, and smoked paprika. Stir to combine.
- Simmer low and slow. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a low simmer. Cover and cook for 1 hour 15 minutes to 1 hour 30 minutes, until beans are completely tender and the broth has thickened. If using canned beans, reduce simmering time to 30–40 minutes.
- Shred and finish. Remove the ham bone. Pull any meat from the bone, shred it, and return it to the pot. Discard the bone and bay leaves. Taste and adjust salt and pepper.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh chopped parsley. Serve with crusty bread or homemade rolls.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 275 | Protein: 19g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 12g | Sodium: 660mg