Mushroom-Bean Bourguignon

Kate turns 31 Thursday, St. Patrick's Day, as always. The parade runs down Broadway two blocks from my parents' house and I can hear it from the three-decker with the windows shut if the wind is right. I did not go to the parade this year. I was working the day shift at the clinic and then at 4 PM I drove to Southie for dinner at my parents'. Corned beef and cabbage, of course. Maureen does the brisket in the oven after a long low simmer and she does the cabbage the old way in the broth with the potatoes and the carrots. There is a horseradish cream she makes that is the specific accompaniment I have eaten on my birthday every year since I was six. I would recognize it blindfolded in a lineup of horseradish creams.

The family was all there. Sean and the kids arrived at 4:30. Meghan and Brian and Aidan came up from Cambridge. Patrick came without Colleen because Colleen was at home with Maverick and the contractions that were still not labor -- a week past her due date plus an induction that had been postponed a second time due to another scheduling issue, an exhaustion that everyone in the room acknowledged with sympathy, no one more than me. Danny was on a shift. He FaceTimed in for the song. Father Donnelly stopped by with a card. Maureen hugged me when I walked in the door the way she has hugged me every birthday of my life, which is tightly, which is briefly, which communicates everything. Sean Sr. said "happy birthday, kid" and handed me a glass of whiskey. Thirty-one. A Southie birthday.

Thirty-one is sitting differently than thirty did. Thirty was in a pandemic, in an apartment, with two small children and an exhaustion that had reached deep tissue. Thirty-one is in a new house, with a slightly older Liam who asks deep questions, with a Nora who can ask me for cheese, with a husband who hung curtain rods and still grades papers on Saturday mornings. It is a better year for birthdays. I said something to that effect at the table, with the family. Maureen said "you earned it." Sean Sr. said "you did." Patrick said "you did, kid." They are not people who speak lightly. I heard what they said.

The gift from Sean was a cookbook I had seen in a store in December -- the big cream-colored one with the deep pasta section and the month-by-month structure -- and a card that I will not share the contents of because some cards are for the person receiving them, not for the page. He wrote it the night before. I read it in the car on the drive home while he drove. I cried a little. Liam was asleep. Nora was asleep. Sean held my hand at the wheel with his off-hand and did not say anything. We drove home to our house.

Three-year-olds have a theory about birthdays which is that they should receive the cake. Liam did not actually believe this was true about mine but he was nine-tenths convinced. Maureen had ordered a small cake from the Quincy bakery -- white, with yellow frosting, with "Katherine" written on it in Maureen's handwriting via cake-writer pen, which she specifically insisted on at the bakery. I cut it. I gave Liam the corner. He received it as his reward for attendance. Nora ate the frosting off hers and rejected the rest. The year turns. Thirty-one. Home.

Maureen’s corned beef is not a recipe I could ever replicate — it lives in her hands and her oven and thirty years of practice — but after that birthday dinner I found myself wanting to cook something that had the same quality she builds into it: the long simmer, the deep savory broth, the sense that patience is the main ingredient. This mushroom-bean bourguignon is the dish I kept coming back to. It doesn’t try to be Maureen’s brisket. It just asks you to slow down, let things cook, and sit down at the table like you mean it — which, at thirty-one, feels like exactly the right instruction.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 medium carrots, sliced into rounds
2 stalks celery, sliced
1 lb cremini mushrooms, quartered
1 cup dry red wine (such as Burgundy or Pinot Noir)
1 1/2 cups vegetable broth
1 can (15 oz) cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (15 oz) diced tomatoes
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon soy sauce or tamari
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
1 bay leaf
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving
Crusty bread or mashed potatoes, for serving

Instructions

Build the base. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Add the vegetables. Stir in the carrots and celery and cook for 3–4 minutes, letting them begin to soften. Add the mushrooms and cook, stirring occasionally, until they release their moisture and begin to brown, about 8 minutes.
Deglaze with wine. Pour in the red wine and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Let the wine simmer and reduce by about half, 4–5 minutes.
Build the braise. Add the vegetable broth, diced tomatoes, tomato paste, soy sauce, thyme, and bay leaf. Stir to combine. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to low.
Add the beans and simmer. Stir in the cannellini beans. Cover partially and simmer over low heat for 25–30 minutes, until the broth has thickened and the carrots are completely tender. Taste and season with salt and pepper.
Finish and serve. Remove the bay leaf. Ladle into bowls over mashed potatoes or alongside crusty bread. Finish with a generous scatter of fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mushroom-Bean Bourguignon — The Long Simmer That Feels Like Home