I’ve been into beans this winter. I like pouring something that could substitute for buckshot into a cauldron of water and ending up with soft, succulent morsels of food. And I cannot overemphasize the appeal of the cauldron component; to make yummy beans from scratch, I have to take the biggest pot we have, a cast-iron thing of uncertain origin in the home, and fill it with all sorts of whatever’s-on-hand to make delicious what would otherwise be bland bean flesh. I mean, eye of newt is surely not tasty to most palettes and Macbeth’s witches weren’t making dinner, so this is perhaps not the best comparison, but I like pouring and scraping and shaking whatever cool things I can find into a simmering pot and getting a little magic out of it when all is said and done.
So the other day I decided to riff on the rough idea of a Southwestern-themed bean soup I had burbling around in my brain. We had a butternut squash on hand, not Shannon’s favorite vegetable, and I’m always trying to come up with ways to make yummy things folks don’t typically like. Note that you don’t have to include all of these ingredients in your version. You shouldn’t make a special trip to the store just for a lime or whatever, and the soup will be tasty even if you don’t get the mustard going.
Southwestern Black Bean & Mustard Squash Soup
- 1 lb dried black beans
- 1/3 cup quality olive oil
- 1 onion sliced
- half a monster carrot chopped
- 1 green pepper chopped
- a big ol’ beat chopped
- 2 fake-o, beef-flavored veggie bouillon cubes
- 1 bay leaf
- 1 tbs of chili pepper flakes left over from a delivered pizza
- 1 capfull of apple cider vinegar
- juice from one lime
- 1.5 bulbs of garlic
- paprika, salt, pepper, coriander, cumin
- 1 butternut squash
- 1 bag of corn tortillas
- mustard powder
- half a bunch of cilantro & chopped spring onions
- 1 avocado
Soak the beans overnight in enough water to cover them, and then pour the water out because that water has soaked up the most flatulent properties of the beans. Wonder of wonders! Next, combine every ingredient from the list above except the final five in your own personal cauldron, along with five cups of water. Bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer with the lid on. For the garlic, you can just peel and cut off the roots, then dump the cloves whole into the soup. You still get the flavor, and eating a whole garlic clove that’s been stewing in a tasty soup is pretty awesome. As far as the measurements of the paprika, salt, etc., just make a good guess. Let’s say, hmmm, maybe 3 tbs of the cumin and coriander, and 2 tbs of the paprika, and we can say “salt and pepper to taste,” right?, that’s something people say, yes? I like to just shake bags over the pot rather than measure, which is something I recommend. We’re not building a space shuttle, after all.
Okay, now cut squash in half, scoop out the seeds and set them aside, and drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt, pepper, and a lot of mustard powder. Put in the oven at 450 degrees. While that’s cooking, you can clean the seeds, toss them with olive oil and salt and pepper, and put them in the oven as well. After cooking for about eight minutes, they’ll be so crispy they’ll snap in your mouth. Nosh on them as a snack.
Throw that half of a clump of cilantro into your simmering soup.
Take one tortilla, drizzle a small amount of vegetable oil on it and spread it out with the back of a spoon, and then set another tortilla on top of it. Repeat. After about ten, cut the stack in half one way and then into strips about half-an-inch wide. Set in a pan, sprinkle with salt, and set in the oven next to the squash. They should turn into tortilla strips within fifteen minutes or so. Test them with a fork and remove when they’re crispy.
Remove the squash when your fork sinks easily into it. Let it cool for a few minutes and then scoop the meat out in chunks about the side of a big spoon. Put them in the soup.
Remove the cilantro.
And now you eat. Once you ladle the soup into bowls, top it with tortilla strips, slices of avocado, and chopped spring onions and cilantro. The above recipe ought to feed a family of four with significant leftovers. We were eating this for something like a week. There might be more in the freezer, actually, now that I think about it.