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I had no idea that I needed a bean pot – until I opened the door of Kitchen Table. At the time, about fifteen years ago, the Walnut Creek store was still a bustling stop for home cooks in the East Bay to pick up tools of the trade, books and any number of food related gifts. I had just met one of my mother’s oldest friends for lunch nearby. Knowing I loved to cook, Leslie insisted we pop in after our meal. Just a quick stop, she said. All I could think of was my already overflowing kitchen and that there was no way I would walk out of that store without adding something new to my collection.
At the shop, just inside the door, was a table filled with curvy, unglazed clay pots, displayed like ancient art objects. Some were tall and narrow, others short and bulbous. I was drawn to the bean pot, a medium size vessel with handles on either side like ears and the imperfect, rough texture of real human touch. I wanted it immediately. The pot spoke to simmered stews on drizzly days and cozy soups thickened with breadcrumbs. It conjured future dinners of sticky and gingery Vietnamese caramel pork and yes, it even called for beans.
My mother’s friend recognized my love at first sight. Before I had the chance to pull out my wallet, she scooped up the pot and a clay pot cookbook, wished me many happy kitchen adventures and sent me on my way.
Less than two years later I would find myself sitting next to my mother on a pew at Leslie’s memorial service. One by one her friends got up and told stories of Leslie’s generosity and kindness. She had died suddenly and early, in her sleep. It gave me some comfort knowing that a woman I did not know very well would live on in a small way through the bean pot, now very much at home beside my stainless-steel sauté pans and enamel glazed Dutch ovens.
The Kitchen Table is no longer in Walnut Creek, nor Great News in San Diego or Broadway Panhandler in New York. Where would my own kitchen be if not for the sauté pans and soup pots, ceramic knife sharpeners and graters found at these shops over the years? What do we lose when we can no longer see with depth and touch with feeling? I’m afraid that shopping for cookware online will never bring the same sense of discovery. There would have never been a bean pot in my house if the only places I shopped were Amazon and Target.
My bean pot is not designed to live forever. I already find it a small miracle the pot has survived multiple moves across the country and the world. It is blackened on the bottom and small cracks have begun to appear, though none yet to break through the thick, clay wall. When the death crack comes, and it will, I will find some glue and press the pieces together, clear some space on a shelf where it can be a reminder of all that it held. Then I will go buy a new pot.
In this quiet interregnum between Thanksgiving indulgence and holiday madness, the bean pot is the ideal cooking companion. It can hold a dish built over time, to feed you over time. Taking a look through, Traditional Spanish Cooking, one of my most well used cookbooks, I was struck by an entire section called “Sturdy One-Pot Dishes”, variations of meat and vegetables simmered until tender.
I envisioned a potaje, somewhere between a soup and a stew, to feed our family for a couple of days and perhaps use up some stray holiday bits. That uncooked sweet potato would go in as well as partial heads of greens – collards, chard and even some beet tops. It is the kind of dish to build over a couple of hours on the weekend, until the pork is tender and the flavors of the greens, potatoes and seasoning all meld together. In between pot additions, you can easily do laundry or write holiday cards, if you do that sort of thing, while catching up on Netflix.
You can eat this on its own as a complete meal. Or, to continue the Spanish theme, ladle this into bowls over toasted bread rubbed with raw garlic. I was testing out a new cookbook so had mine alongside some vegan sweet potato biscuits from Bryant Terry’s Black Food.
This reheats beautifully and arguably gets better with time. For another way with leftovers, you could do a lot worse than the Andalusian way. Take some pork and chop it. Layer it on a bread roll and call it lunch the next day.
Recipe
Pork and Greens Potaje
2 T. olive oil
4 oz. pancetta, diced
2 lb. boneless pork shoulder
Salt
2 quarts water
Bouquet Garni
8 pepper corns
1 bay leaf
1 sprig thyme
Spice Paste
1 ½ tsp. smoked paprika
3 cloves garlic, peeled
1 tsp. sea salt
1 tsp. black peppercorns
12 oz. greens, leaves only – combination of chard, collards, beet greens
12 oz. sweet potatoes, peeled, ½ inch dice
If using a bean pot over a direct flame, heat the pot slowly, over several minutes starting from low. When the heat comes to medium, add the olive oil and pancetta. Let sizzle for about five minutes until the pancetta releases some fat but is not browned. While the pot is heating, cut the pork shoulder into roughly even cubes about 1.5 inches x 1.5 inches. Salt the pork cubes. When pancetta is ready, add pork and water stirring all to combine. Cover the pot with a lid and continue to slowly raise the heat to high over several minutes until mixture is boiling. Reduce to a simmer with the pot lid partially uncovered. While meat is simmering, make the bouquet garni, wrapping peppercorns, bay leaf and thyme in cheesecloth. After thirty minutes, skim and discard any scum that has floated to the top along with any visible fat. Add the bouquet garni. Let simmer partially covered for another 45 minutes.
While the meat continues to cook, make the spice paste. In a mortar and pestle or using the flat side of your chef’s knife, mash together paprika, garlic, 1 tsp. sea salt and 1 tsp. black peppercorns until you have a thick paste. Wash greens and discard stems. Finely shred remaining leaves. Peel sweet potatoes and dice. Set both aside. After meat has been cooking for 45 minutes, you can test the doneness of the meat with a paring knife. It should go through but still with a bit of resistance. When you reach that point, remove a cup of the cooking liquid and add it to a small bowl with the spice paste. Whisk to dissolve then add the whole mixture to the pot. Working with about three additions, add the greens. Stir after each addition until leaves are wilted then repeat. Let greens cook for 30 minutes. Test meat again, at this point it should be quite tender. Add sweet potatoes and cook for 15 minutes until just cooked through.
Serve on its own or with bread.
I do wish that you have a local cookware store that stocks clay pots. However, if you do not, check out Bram. They used to have a shop in Sonoma where I would go to marvel at their colorful, hand painted tagines and earthenware casseroles. Now everyone can access their collection online.
To Drink…
Cune Rioja Reserva, Rioja, Spain 2017
An everyday Spanish inspired dish calls for a Spanish classic. I have had the pleasure of drinking Bodegas Cune’s Rioja Reserva from Zurich to Hong Kong to my own home. Made of 85% tempranillo and 15% garnacha, it follows the traditions of Rioja with fermentation followed by 18 months of aging in vat, 24 months in oak barrel, and then an additional year in the bottle in the cellar before being released. After this nearly five-year process, the tannins have mellowed and the oak is well enough integrated that you do not need to worry for additional time in your own cellar – just uncork and enjoy.
To fully geek out on Cune, I recommend an interview with their CEO, Victor Urrutia, on the highly engaging podcast, Wine for Normal People.
From $25.99 on Wine.com, Seaside Market in Cardiff-by-the-Sea and elsewhere.