Italian Beans in. . . Salad!
How in the world did you ever guess? (Plus, try my luxurious sour-cream corn muffins!)
IF YOU POST PHOTOS OF TWO PARTICULAR FOOD ITEMS on social media, people tend to absolutely fall out. (That’s a southern expression, as in: Emily, when I saw that iceberg and blue cheese salad I bout fell OUT.)
The two items are: Any kind of cornmeal-related food and a pot (or a bowl) of beans (which, in the Department of Salad, usually means bean salads).
My experience is that Americans go nuts for these ingredients in ways that reflect not just our hearty appetites and endless desire to have things stick to our ribs but also the ever-growing, polyglot strands of our culinary fabric, which we are so lucky to have.
A recent book I’ve flipped over and highly recommend is Masa: Techniques, Recipes, and Reflections on a Timeless Staple, by Jorge Gaviria. It’s difficult to believe this fascinating book had never been written before 2022, especially when you consider how much corn we eat in the United States. (We lead global consumption, having consumed about 12½ million bushels of sweet corn in 2021-22; only China comes close.)
We have big corn love. But when it comes to beans, Italians have a passion that borders on interspecies love. And the best thing about their infatuation is that it results in recipes for the rest of us. Like a lot of Italian cooking, many of their bean recipes achieve glory through a form of daring simplicity.
Which brings me to another book I’m crazy about, Judith Barrett’s 2004 cookbook Fagioli: The Bean Cuisine of Italy, which has just been republished by my friend Steve Sando, of Rancho Gordo.
Sando was in Puebla when I contacted him about the book. He tends to get a lot of his beans and bean inspiration in Mexico, but over the years he has introduced new beans with seed sources in Italy, too.
“When I first started Rancho Gordo, there really were very few bean books out there—and they were too hippy-dippy for my interests. Then I found Fagioli—and even though I was completely broke I thought I’d gamble and buy it. And, boy, was I ever rewarded,” he said, noting Fagioli’s usefulness as a reference book in addition to its “gentle and disarming” qualities. “Anyone can cook from it even if you haven’t cooked much Italian food.”
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But the book had been out of print for a while. And Sando noticed that whenever he’d recommend it to people, word came back to him that used copies were going for about $200.
“On a whim, we contacted Judith [Barrett] to see if she owned the rights and if she’d be interested in reprinting the book. I couldn’t believe our luck when she said yes—and that she wanted to revise a few of the recipes, add a few, and generally bring it into our era, where heirloom beans are available and not all that uncommon.”
Regarding his reason for publishing cookbooks himself, rather than going to some fancy-pants book house, Sando alluded to a few unhappy experiences with traditional publishing. And he’s had a lot of good ones, too. But his desire to “go deep and appeal to fanatics” can get in the way.
“You’ll find this hard to believe,” he said, “but I'm somewhat of a control freak. I’m thrilled if people who eat only Hamburger Helper and fast food also want to make a pot of beans from Tuscany, and I will do anything I can to make it happen—but I’d rather appeal to the bean freak. It might be a little snobby but I’m old. I can do what I want now.”
I, personally, am very thankful for this freakiness, which has brought the terrific bean salads from Judith Barrett’s Fagioli into my kitchen, as well as such non-salad dishes as Whipped Chickpea and Potato Spread (Spuma di ceci con crostini di pane), Braised Lentils with Fresh Fennel (Lenticchie brasate), Ligurian Soup of Chickpeas, Beans, and Farro (Mes-ciua), and Pasta and Cannellini Beans with Sausage (Pasta e fagioli con la salsiccia), among many others.
The bean salad I have for you today is unbelievably simple; borlotti get a warm bath in garlic-anchovy-parsley vinaigrette. It’s delicious served over lightly dressed bitter greens, and it would be great as part of a supper with Italy’s irresistible cornmeal dish, polenta (baked or soft, with a sauce or just cheese), and maybe some roasted pork if you have a big appetite.
The beans over greens alone would also be great as a light supper, perhaps with my rich sour-cream cornmeal muffins. I’ll give you that recipe again.
And one little clarification/comment: We’re in a lovely period here in the Department of Salad during which we are seeing a lot of great new food books containing shimmering salad recipes to recommend to you—but we do not do this lightly. When it comes to recipes that are not our own, we will never include them here unless we have made and loved them. Since it feels like I never even leave the house except to go to the grocery store or farmers market, it’s a given that these books are not by people I hang out with at fancy food parties, eating truffles. I go only by the work.
*RECIPE: Insalata di fagioli con allice e erbe (Bean Salad with Anchovies and Herbs), from “Fagioli,” by Judith Barrett
Serves 4
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR Judith Barrett: “This flavorful first-course salad is from the Veneto region, where borlotti beans are the favorite. Serve this salad on a bed of greens with some good crusty bread.”
NOTE FROM EMILY: My “bed of greens” (a mix of arugula and a few other lettuces I had on hand) first got tossed with just enough olive oil to coat the leaves, a splash of red wine vinegar, and a tiny bit of salt and pepper—right before serving. I’d recommend a large handful of greens per person, with a half cup of the bean salad on top. And a few shavings of Parmigiano Reggiano over each serving is nice, too.
Make sure to cook the garlic and anchovies in olive oil over heat that is on the low side of medium; otherwise you’re in for a spattered stove.
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 clove garlic, peeled and sliced in half or chopped (depending on how much you like garlic; chopped will be stronger)
3 salt-packed anchovy fillets, rinsed in cold water and chopped; or 6 oil-packed anchovy fillets, drained and chopped
15 flat-leaf parsley sprigs (leaves only), finely chopped
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 cups cooked borlotti, pinto, or cranberry beans, drained
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Warm the olive oil in a medium Dutch oven or saucepan over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook until it begins to brown, about 3 minutes. Add the anchovies; use a wooden spoon to mash them into the oil; they should dissolve quickly. Stir in the parsley and vinegar; continue cooking about 5 minutes longer (you may want to lower the heat a tiny bit). Add the beans to the anchovy sauce. Season cautiously (anchovies are typically salty) with salt and freshly ground black pepper, and mix well but gently. Serve at room temperature
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*RECIPE: Magnificent Sour Cream Corn Muffins, from The Comfort Food Diaries
Makes 6 large or 12 medium muffins
These are adapted from the great Marion Cunningham.
1 large egg plus one yolk, at room temperature
1 stick (4 ounces) unsalted butter, melted, plus more for the tins
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
¼ cup milk, warmed
1 scant cup all-purpose flour
⅔ cup white cornmeal
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup sour cream or plain yogurt
Preheat the oven to 400°F (204°C).
Grease the muffin tins.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the egg, egg yolk, melted butter, oil, and milk until well blended.
Combine the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, sugar, and salt in another bowl and stir with a fork until well mixed.
Add the egg mixture to the dry ingredients and stir until blended. Finally, stir in the sour cream.
Spoon the batter into the muffin tins until each cup is ¾ full.
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the edges of the muffins are slightly golden and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Remove from tins and serve hot. (They’re also delicious at room temperature or toasted the next day for breakfast.)
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