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Simple Vegetarian Slow Cooked Beans — The Foundation of Every Good February Pot

Ten months and officially walking, though "walking" is a generous word for what he does, which is more like controlled falling with intent, arms wide, heading toward whatever he's decided to approach with the focused optimism of someone who has not yet learned about the concept of a bad idea. Everything in the apartment is now a potential target. The baby-proofing Sean did in October has turned out to be prescient. The coffee table corners are vindicated.

February is a week away and the anniversary of the month I hate—gray February, short-day February, Boston in February where the novelty of snow has worn off and what remains is just the effort of it. This year I have a ten-month-old who finds February completely irrelevant, who doesn't notice the light quality or the gray or the cold outside the windows because inside is warm and there are things to pull off shelves and stairs to attempt and everyone he loves is here. I'm using his relationship with February as a corrective.

Made ribollita on Sunday—the Tuscan bread soup, the one where you use up the stale bread and the white beans and the kale and it becomes something that's more than the sum of its parts, which is the best kind of cooking. The kind that takes what's almost past its moment and makes it into the point of the meal. I ate it for three days. Liam had the white beans mashed, separately, with a spoon, and ate them with the methodical focus he brings to everything now that his coordination is improving. He doesn't spill as much. He's becoming a person who eats dinner rather than redistributing it.

The ribollita starts here — with the beans, soft and creamy from a long slow cook, good enough on their own before the bread and kale even enter the picture. Liam’s version of Sunday’s dinner was always the beans first: mashed with a spoon, eaten with that focused methodical patience he’s been developing lately. This is the recipe that anchors the whole pot. Set it in the morning, ignore it while the baby attempts the stairs, come back when the apartment smells like something worth sitting down to.

Simple Vegetarian Slow Cooked Beans

Prep Time: 15 min (plus overnight soak) | Cook Time: 8 hours | Total Time: 8 hours 15 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 lb dried white beans (cannellini or great northern), soaked overnight and drained
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 medium carrots, peeled and chopped
  • 2 stalks celery, chopped
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 sprig fresh rosemary
  • 4 cups vegetable broth
  • 2 cups water
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for serving
  • 1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • Fresh flat-leaf parsley, for serving

Instructions

  1. Soak the beans. Place dried beans in a large bowl and cover with cold water by at least 2 inches. Soak overnight or for at least 8 hours. Drain and rinse well before using.
  2. Load the slow cooker. Add drained beans, onion, garlic, carrots, celery, bay leaves, and rosemary to the slow cooker. Pour in the vegetable broth and water. Drizzle with olive oil and stir everything together.
  3. Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 7 to 8 hours, or on HIGH for 3 to 4 hours, until the beans are completely tender and beginning to turn creamy at the edges.
  4. Season and finish. Remove the bay leaves and rosemary sprig. Season generously with salt and pepper, stir, taste, and adjust. The beans should be well-seasoned on their own.
  5. Serve. Ladle into bowls and finish with a drizzle of good olive oil and a handful of fresh parsley. Serve with crusty or stale bread, or use as the base for ribollita by adding kale, canned tomatoes, and torn bread directly to the pot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 235 | Protein: 13g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 37g | Fiber: 9g | Sodium: 420mg

Kate Donovan
About the cook who shared this
Kate Donovan
Week 149 of Kate’s 30-year story · Boston, Massachusetts
Kate is a thirty-five-year-old nurse practitioner in Boston and a widowed mother of two whose husband Sean died of brain cancer at thirty-three. She makes Irish soda bread and beef stew and shepherd's pie because the recipes are all she has left of a man who was supposed to grow old with her. She writes about cooking through grief and finding out you can still feed your children on the worst day of your life.

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