CROCKPOT PICNIC BEANS

I love beans of all kinds, baked beans, chili beans, bean soup, refried beans, you name it; so I've tried a lot of bean recipes.  As usual, I ended up taking the best part of several recipes and combining them to create this crockpot picnic bean recipe. Every BBQ needs a big pot of beans !!

These beans are slightly sweet and smokey, not to mention VERY flavorful and an inexpensive (and nutritious) way to feed a crowd. The trick is to start them the day ahead, then let them cook in the crockpot all day (or overnight). Your kitchen will smell heavenly.

3 cups DRY navy beans  (soaked overnight)
3/4 cup tomato puree
3/4 cut ketchup
2½ cups (bean) water   (see note)
1/4 cup molasses
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 teaspoons DRY mustard powder
1 medium onion chopped
3 teaspoons salt
1/2 pound of bacon (fried and crumbled)

Rinse and sort the dry beans (sometimes, there are tiny rocks or pieces of dirt in the bag). Cover them with water (about 3" above the beans) and put them in the fridge for about 8 hours or overnight.  Drain and rinse them again.

Put the beans in a large kettle and cover with with enough water to measure  3-4 inches above the beans. Gently boil  for 1 to 2 hours (all beans cook at different rates, so just test for doneness after an hour ...just don't let them get mushy). If you want to skip this step, see alternative method below.

Drain  the beans, but reserve 2½ cups of the bean water. Put the drained beans, onion and crumbled bacon in the crockpot. 

Mix the 2½ cups of bean water with the tomato puree, ketchup, molasses, sugar, dry mustard, and salt until smooth then pour over the beans, stirring very gently to distribute everything.

Cover and cook on low setting of your crockpot for about 8 hours. Don't be afraid to add a little water towards the end if it looks like it needs it (it won't effect the taste).

NOTE: If you don't want to mess with boiling the beans, you can soak them all day and then before you go to bed, put the beans in the crockpot, cover them with water (water only) and let them cook on low all night.   In the morning, drain the beans (saving 2½ cups of the bean water) and then  proceed with the rest of the recipe.

NOTE: Navy beans work the best for this recipe, but northern beans or any small white DRY bean will work, just don't use a dry lima bean...they get mushy too fast.

NOTE:  "Bean water" is simply the water that you boiled the beans in.

Drumsticks with Heat

I had a request from Tammi over at Momma's Meals asking if I would want to be part of her Featured Fridays where she features other bloggers and shares a recipe that she made from their blog. I agreed and today I am sharing her recipe for Drumsticks with Heat. 

So go check out what she made from my blog today. It's super yummy, I'll tell you that.

Now, here's a little about Tammi...

Tammi is

Egg and potato pie

We have got a mouse.

I say that like this is a new thing. We've actually had a mouse for ages. And when I say mouse, I dearly hope I do mean mouse, singular, not mice, plural. It's hard to tell, mice look similar. And if there are two mice living in this house, it's highly likely they are related and therefore even more indistinguishable.

The reason I mention it only now is that up until a fortnight ago, only other people had ever seen this mouse and I, of course, dismissed the sightings as fanciful imaginings of hysterical people.

"Okay," I would say, "if there's a mouse, where's the mouse poo?" But then one evening when my husband was watching football, I was sitting right here at the kitchen table, writing, and out from under the oven came a small, sleek mouse with a twitchy nose, beady eyes and very large ears.

It was indescribably cute.

Then it saw me and disappeared like lightning, leaving, in terror, a trail of poo behind it.

I didn't say anything to my husband, because my husband thinks we should get Rentokil in and I do not want this. I do not want to set glue traps or lay down some sort of ghastly poison that causes the mice to die slowly from internal bleeding. Neither do I want to get a cat. I like cats, but there are too many cats already on our street already and they kill all the birds. I have never been ok with death. I don't like it and I don't want it around me. I certainly don't want to be party to it.

I have purchased, online from somehere that calls itself "Tooled-Up" a humane mousetrap but when I catch and release this mouse on to Hampstead Heath I fully expect another one to replace it.

Anyway, aren't mice inevitable? These old London houses with their mouse-sized gaps everywhere and rubbish aplenty - surely every building, except hermetically-sealed new builds, has got a mouse somewhere. Rather than issue a mouse holocaust, we should all just try to get along.

(Incidentally, my sister in law told me that she heard on the radio that there is an influx of mice at the moment because it has been so rainy - the mice flee the flooding sewers and take shelter under, for example, ovens in North London. She has the same attitude to mice as me: live and let live.)

Anyway I know why we have got a mouse. It's because of Kitty. Or rather, it's because of me. It's because I allow her to roam freely round the ground floor carrying a variety of brittle foodstuffs, which rain little mouse-snack-sized crumbs hither and thither, which, later on, the mouse posts into its gob with both hands. I have seen it with my own eyes, while sitting on the sofa watching Breaking Bad and eating Green&Blacks.

The only thing to do is vacuum the entire ground floor every night before bed. I do not wish to starve the mouse, you understand - merely think that it might have better luck elsewhere until the sewers dry out and it can return to its natural habitat.

Speaking of natural habitats, mine is carbohydrate-based. I have been dieting like mad recently because I am still so traumatised by being fat while pregnant (yes, after 17 months. That's how fat I was). But recently, I have fallen off the starvation waggon and have been scoffing like my little mouse friend. It's partly because I am trying to have another baby and think maybe if I've got a bit more meat on my bones it might help.

Incidentally, I know what you're thinking: you're thinking - why are you trying to have another baby when all you do is complain on and on about how awful having children is? And my answer is this: Kitty needs a little buddy. If she didn't need a little buddy I wouldn't do it. No way. The thought of doing it all again makes me feel quite ill but at least I only have to do it once more. Then I can wash my hands of the whole sorry business and concentrate on dieting until I'm so thin a stiff breeze would blow me over.

But until then, here is a terrific recipe for egg and potato pie that my husband makes when we're feeling skinny and virtuous enough to risk letting such things pass our lips.

Giles's egg and potato pie
for 4

3 large floury potatoes
4 eggs
butter - about 100g
salt and pepper

1 Peel and boil the potatoes whole for 15 minutes but stop boiling if they look like they're falling apart, as floury potatoes are so wont to do. Boil the eggs for 7 minutes, cool and peel.

2 Slice the potatoes and the eggs. This is a reasonably fiddly job - especially with the eggs. If you have a purpose-made egg slicer, this is the time to extract it from the back of that drawer, wipe the grease off and deploy it.

3 Butter the bottom of a baking dish, then cover with a layer of potatoes. Dot with butter and season. Then add a layer of sliced egg. Repeat this until you have used up all your egg and potato.

DO NOT fret if this all looks a bit of a mess, it is an imprecise dish and will taste terrific no matter how it looks.

4 Put in the oven for 45 mins at 180

Totally Tasty Tuesdays

How's your summer?

It's hot and windy and dry, dry, dry in my land.

It's quite frustrating.

Try watering the lawn with the wind blowing it into the air rather than the grass. It is really bad. The crops are  not getting the moisture they need and it just makes me kinda grumpy. As I am typing this, the news is on and the weather lady just said that it's a bit breezy. Ha. Try a freakin' hot

{Copycat} KFC Coleslaw

I am all about copycat recipes.

All. about. them.

Who doesn't want to be able to make their favorite restaurant dishes at home?

Unless you don't feel like cooking and want to go out to eat, okay. Otherwise, I love making my favorite dishes from my favorite restaurants at home. Saving money, people. That's what it's all about.







Ingredients

8 c. cabbage, finely chopped

1/4 c. carrot,

Totally Tasty Tuesdays

Holy Busy Summer, Batman!

We've started swimming lessons, Emma had her 4th birthday, Father's Day, gardening, blogging, etc.

I am half tempted to postpone TTT until school starts back up, but it's so fun seeing what everyone links up that I don't think I could do it. We'll see.



I have to show you Emma's pics that I took. She is too cute, if I say so myself.

























Yeah, we

Coffe and hazelnut pissed cake

       

Stop me if you’ve heard this one already, but I only learned how to drive quite recently. I was 28 I think. Or 29. It was an absolutely ghastly experience. After a certain age, one doesn’t really have to learn new things and it’s such a relief because learning new things is awful - it’s mostly why having a baby is so horrible. I would sweat and shake before, during and after every lesson I had and used to weep and wail about how much I hated it to Giles at least twice a week.

“Just fucking do it,” he would say. “Don’t fucking quit like you quit everything else. Grow a backbone.”

I know that sounds mean but I am actually terribly tough, while simultaneously being a basket-case (if you can get your head round that), and that’s the kind of management I respond to best, alas. Just as, occasionally, if my husband is being a bit of a weed, I will say “Come on. For God’s sake pull yourself together – you’re an Englishman.” There really is no answer to that.

Where was I. Oh yes, driving. God MAN ALIVE I LOVE IT. Brum BRUUUUMMMMM!!! Out of my way, suck-ahs! It helps that my husband purchased, on the birth of Kitty, a shiny black BMW family estate that goes incredibly fast. It is designed specifically to go for long distances at Def Con II, very cheaply (it is a diesel) and I have, in my time, overtaken a convoy of boy racers in neon cars at 140mph while wearing a gilet and boot-cut jeans, without breaking a sweat.  Don’t tell the filth!!!

I have racked up many miles in my beloved car in the last 16 months, but I’ve never done a really long drive. So when my very dear friend from school, Izzy, announced that she was getting married in Norfolk I said to Giles “You stay here with Kitty – I’m going to take the beemer to stretch her legs up to Great Snoring.”

(A Twitter follower tells me that a Mr Gotobed once lived in Great Snoring and I choose to believe her.)

The wedding was marvellous. Izzy looked like a goddess and laughs like Sid James. In the days leading up the event I was terribly worried that there would be a lot of frightening people from school there who would all look at me and say “Oh hii Esther [scoff, chortle, snort] what are YOU doing here...????” but in fact it was just all my old mates, and we sat about and were mean to each other and bitched about people who weren’t there and smoked fags in a twilight field.

I raced back to London the next day in my rocket car, worried about Giles and Kitty alone together – even though I had been sent a series of picture texts, which showed what a rozzlingly brilliant time they were having together without me.

But of course they were: now Kitty is really walking she’s a piece of piss and just bumbles about the house without needing any entertainment, (for now). Just incidentally, the most surreal experience you can have happens when your child has just started walking and ambles into a room you are in. And you see them out of the corner of your eye and you’re like FUCK JESUS CHRIST THERE IS AN ESCAPED CHIMP IN MY HOUSE oh no, no it’s my daughter, phew calm down everyone.  

That evening, still recovering from the 3-hour-each-way drive and feeling rather smug at having left Kitty with Giles, successfully, for 24 hours, I got pissed and decided to bake a cake. The other week I made the most amazing pudding by layering leftover banana bread with Haagen-Daaz Dulce du Leche ice cream, (buy it nowit is amazing), strawberries and Pedro Ximenez sherry and have henceforth decided that one must have a cake on the go at all times for emergency puddings.

So I thought I’d give my old coffee and walnut cake another go. But I didn’t have enough butter. Or any walnuts. So I boinged drunkenly around the kitchen like a pinball, richocheting off walls and singing “Tell Out, My Soul” trying to find substitutes to the ingredients I didn’t have.

Incidentally, the bride Izzy would have been proud of my crapulence; I can tell you for a fact that she spent no fewer than three hours in the pub after school every day, (including Saturdays as Westminster is technically a boarding school), and got A+ and “Excellent” in red pen on everything she did. Needless to say I slaved away like a terrified spod and was still totally average at everything.

Anyway I learned this from my drunken cake excursion:

it is not ideal to substitute vegetable oil for the ground nut oil you don’t have, to sub for the butter you don’t have either. Not ideal. But possible. There is the merest hint of chip fat about things if you use straight veg, rather than ground-nut oil, but it’s possibly less noticeable if you don’t know that that’s what you’re tasting.

So, what you do with this cake is weigh out the eggs (2 or 3 – or even 4, depending on how big you want the cake) and then mix with the same weight of flour and sugar and butter (and coffee and other stuff – see “Coffee and Walnut cake” for details). But I only had 60g of butter, so I made up the rest in vegetable oil. Like I said – not perfect, but totally fine in a dire/drunk cake emergency.