Summer Favorite
What I'm about to admit puts me beyond the pale of true foodie territory: I like beans and franks.
Yes, beans from a can and frankfurters mummified in plastic. I actually look forward to summer cookouts where, almost inevitably, someone will bring a big pot of beans to go with the grilled hotdogs.
My Beloved, however, is not a huge fan of the tube steak - the man can actually attend a baseball game without consuming one. Imagine!
Since I'm the cook in our house, and so have the power, we do occasionally have this summer favorite of mine. Oh, I dress it up for him by adding onions, spices and tangerine or orange slices (skin and all) to the pot of beans as they simmer. I sometimes even grill chicken apple sausages rather than true franks. But, let's not fool ourselves that we are eating anything but comfort food here.
And comfortable it is. Sweetly savory-salty, it's a flash back to childhood when, very occasionally, my mother would serve us this when she was dressed up to go out with my Dad for the evening and wanted to leave us in a good mood for the babysitter. When I take the first bite of the beans, I almost get a whiff of her perfume as she breezed out the door on my father's arm, knowing she left us as happy as she was.
Yes, beans from a can and frankfurters mummified in plastic. I actually look forward to summer cookouts where, almost inevitably, someone will bring a big pot of beans to go with the grilled hotdogs.
My Beloved, however, is not a huge fan of the tube steak - the man can actually attend a baseball game without consuming one. Imagine!
Since I'm the cook in our house, and so have the power, we do occasionally have this summer favorite of mine. Oh, I dress it up for him by adding onions, spices and tangerine or orange slices (skin and all) to the pot of beans as they simmer. I sometimes even grill chicken apple sausages rather than true franks. But, let's not fool ourselves that we are eating anything but comfort food here.
And comfortable it is. Sweetly savory-salty, it's a flash back to childhood when, very occasionally, my mother would serve us this when she was dressed up to go out with my Dad for the evening and wanted to leave us in a good mood for the babysitter. When I take the first bite of the beans, I almost get a whiff of her perfume as she breezed out the door on my father's arm, knowing she left us as happy as she was.
Labels: baked beans, chicken apple sausage, hot dogs
8 Comments:
I LOVE baked beans. Had some yesterday with my wings from Wing Stop. And grilled dogs? A little burnt please.
Have you made it to Top Dog yet?
hot dogs and beans.I love em and the kids loved em and they were cheap. Only in moderation now they tell me.
I couldn't WAIT for you to get to the "perfume" part of the anecdote of your mother going out with your dad. And you did! I knew it would be there.
New discovery chez moi: Niman Ranch hot dogs. Tasty, tender. Decent. We've already begun hot dog season, too.
I confess that I love baked beans. My grandmother had an old bean pot. In the winter, she'd load it up with beans, salt pork, onions, tomatoes, molasses - I can't remember what else. She'd put in in the oven, turn it on low and bake all day. Towards the end of the day, when it was about an hour or so until dinner, she'd brown up some hot dogs (nothing fancy in Oregon in the 1950's) and put them into the pot. Best Winter Dinner ever.
I had to go back and reread after Cookiecrumb's comment. Now that I think about it, this is one of the things that my mom made for me before she headed out. And she always smelled of either Chanel No. 5 or Norrell.
Kailyn: My mom made Swanson's pot pies for us. And she wore... oh, she was a perfume whore, can hardly remember them all. White Shoulders was one.
And now I finally know what "tube steak" is, ta! Only slightly less horrific than what I was imagining :)
Kailyn and Cookiecrumb, oh, these perfumed mothers! Mine wore Chanel #5 or Arpège.
Kailyn, no, not yet but thanks for reminding me!
Greg, yes, moderation. I only make them once or twice a year.
Cookiecrumb, Niman Ranch makes _hot_dogs_? Wow, gotta try 'em.
Nancy, my mother's were the bake-all-day kind, too. I'm lazier.
Morgan, just sausages, really. I've never known why we call them hot dogs, or just "hots" in this country. Not too scary unless you ask what's inside. Don't ask.
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