Lima Bean

It's low-cal and filling—as in perfect for swimsuit season. I make it a day ahead so the veggies can marinate and the flavor pops.

To make this recipe vegetarian, omit the bacon and add a splash of oil.

"If gumbo is the national stew of Cajun country, burgoo is the stew of Kentucky," Ronni Lundy asserts in her book Shuck Beans, Stack Cakes, and Honest Fried Chicken. Because the stew is made in many different ways with a variety of ingredients, the "Burgoo Song" by Robert Myles claims, "You can toss in almost anything that ever walked or flew." Many early recipes for burgoo include squirrel in addition to chicken, beef, and pork. In Kentucky, Anderson County, which hosts its Burgoo Festival every September, is known as the burgoo capital of the world. Arenzville, Illinois, makes a similar claim. But the French lay claim to the basic concept of burgoo, and it's conceivable that the word burgoo arose somehow from the French ragout (pronounced ra-goo), also a term describing a stew. Burgoo makers agree • Burgoo should be made in stages: cook the meat first, and then add the vegetables.
• No less than 4—6 hours should be devoted to making burgoo. Some recipes call for a 24-hour cooking period.
• Burgoo should contain more than one meat.
• Burgoo should be prepared outdoors over an open fire.

The King's Cake (galette des rois), in whatever form it took, with a "bean" baked into it, has been the king of desserts on Twelfth Night, also known as the Feast of Kings or Epiphany in France, since the Middle Ages. In those days, the French King's Cake took different forms depending on the region. It was a brioche topped with candied fruits in Provence, a flat galette with cream in the North, a dry cake in Lorraine, a puff pastry round with an almond flavored filling in Lyon. À Paris, it was a gorenflot, a sort of enriched bread raised with baker's yeast, something like a Polish brioche. The ritual of this shared cake is symbolic of the day of the Epiphany, commemorating the presentation of Jesus to the Magi on the sixth of January, but it is also redolent of other pagan traditions linked to the cult of fertility that was so popular with the Romans. The "bean" hidden inside the cake was originally an actual lima bean, a symbol of renewal and fecundity, before it was replaced by a tiny porcelain figure representing the Christ child, then by a host of trinkets. Today, the marzipan-filled, puff pastry round has gained supremacy almost everywhere. And for good reason—few pastries can give such extended pleasure. How delicious when, under its fine butter coating, the many-layered pastry (milles-feuilles), still warm, encounters the silky, fondant marzipan on the palate—a perfect combination of the puff pastry and grainy, ground almonds. No one knows exactly when this so-called "Parisian" cake was born. The invention of marzipan dates from the sixteenth century. The history should be treated with caution, but it is sufficiently delicious to have been inscribed indelibly in the memory of gourmets. In 1588, an Italian marquis named Murio Frangipani marketed gloves perfumed with almonds. There is nothing surprising about this because perfumers were originally glove makers. The essence of Italian frangipani, about which Catherine de' Medici was passionate, inspired the pastry cooks of the French court to create frangipane cream, an equal mixture of pastry cream and almond cream. King's Cake, whether flavored with fruits or almond cream, is a dessert with a history. Certain Epiphanies have been retained in the annals. For instance, on January 6, 1650, at the Louvre Palace, Anne of Austria and her son Louis XIV indulged in the cake, leaving on the table, as was the custom, a share for the poor, in this case the very part that contained the bean. The next morning, there was "no other king than that of the bean," the king having fled Paris to escape the uprising known as the Fronde. Is it because of this unpleasant memory that the tradition of naming the person who finds the bean as "king" for the day was outlawed during Louis XIV's reign, the custom being officially judged to be too pagan? In 1770, Diderot recounted this anecdote in his Encyclopédie, summarizing it with this amusing aphorism: "Signe Denis, sans terre ni château. Roi par the grâce du gâteau." (The sign of Denis [patron saint of Paris] without land or château, King by the grace of a gâteau.) The joy of eating the crown is all part of the pleasure of enjoying King's Cake once a year, and more....

Pork and beans never had it so good. This Spanish riff on French cassoulet pairs large, meaty beans with fresh sausages under a breadcrumb crust. Save time by quick-soaking the beans.

This dish is also delicious with mussels. Decrease the amount of chiles if you like it less spicy.

The ingredients can be prepared the day before and refrigerated.

Fresh sage garnish, lightly crisped on the stovetop, updates humble lima bean soup and gives it restaurant-like flair.

Please try this recipe if you’re a lima bean hater. I used to be one, too. I detested those dried-out, mealy, frozen beans from childhood. They fell into the “dreaded vegetables” category, along with beets and Brussels sprouts. But oddly enough those very vegetables are the ones I have grown to love the most. Fresh lima beans are a revelation, and especially delicious in this purée.

There’s a moment in late May when something in the air shifts. Fava beans and other spring treats are still plentiful and the evenings are still cool, but change is coming. The air at the farmers’ market is suddenly humid with the scent of basil. Small piles of cherry tomatoes, summer squash, and fresh beans show up on the folding tables beside mounds of fresh corn. It’s as if summer is testing the waters, seeing if we’re ready, because it can hardly hold back any longer. Before changing my spring menu to summer, I sample a few beans, checking for crunch. I peel back a cornhusk, bite into the cob—is the corn sweet yet? And finally, I pop a cherry tomato in my mouth to gauge its sugar. If they all pass the test, it’s time to make this First-of-the-Season Succotash Salad, dressed with a simple lemon vinaigrette. After waiting all year, what a joy it is to taste all these sunny flavors on one plate.

Every summer when my husband, David, and I visit his parents, we arrive at their house to a feast of peel-and-eat shrimp, Jean’s crab salad, and of course enough “softies” to feed the entire neighborhood. On the Eastern Shore of Maryland, soft-shell crabs (blue crabs that have molted their shells) are a grand tradition. The season starts in late spring and continues through the summer. Crabbers must be vigilant: there is only a 4- to 5-hour window during which molting blue crabs are in the “soft-shell” stage, after which their new shells harden if they are not removed from the water. David keeps his Maryland pride alive while living on the West Coast. Every year when crab season starts, his father ships us a few flats of live crabs, and we throw a decadent soft-shell party. We decided that if our humble castle had a coat of arms, it would be two crossed strips of bacon with a soft-shell crab in the center

We call these butterbeans in Georgia. I serve them with Baked Ham with Brown Sugar Honey Glaze (page 88) and Potato Salad (page 53). In college I had a friend named Tina, who is from Mississippi. When I would go home with her for the weekend, she would put mayonnaise in her butterbeans. Don’t try this at home, because you will love it and it’s more added fat that none of us need! (Okay, try it once!)

Some recipes in this book have been passed down from generation to generation, and some are newer recipes discovered in the past few years that have become family classics. This is one of the old-timers. My mom used to make this soup when I was a child, and I remember how much my dad loved it served over biscuits. For me, when a recipe has a great memory attached to it, it tastes even better. I make this soup at the first sign of cold weather every year and serve it poured over Buttermilk Cornbread (page 154).

The traditional combination for succotash is lima beans and corn, but any other kind of shell bean will be delicious, too.

Like tsimmes (page 502), this recipe was originally designed to sit in an oven after a fire had been built, cooking slowly overnight and even into the next day to provide a hot Sabbath meal for Jews who were not allowed to (actively) cook after sunset on Friday. Provided you have no such restrictions, it’s a little easier to make cholent, a wonderful stew of any meat, beans, barley, and potatoes; I believe it’s especially good with limas, which in any case are traditional in at least parts of Europe. Other cuts of meat you can use here: lamb shoulder is also good and, if you’re not too worried about tradition, so is pork shoulder.