Sometimes you’re up

Strange how the world works: One minute you’re sitting on a beach in sunny Portugal sipping on a Super Bock and the next you’re in Bundoran struggling to shield your chips from a sudden downpour and the psychotic seagulls. One minute you’re up, next you’re down.

I am reminded of Augustus McCrae’s conversation with Lorie in that magnificent western novel, Lonesome Dove. The young prostitute was hankering for a life out west and Augustus was trying to put her straight.

“Lorie darlin’, life in San Francisco, you see, is still just life,” Gus said. “If you want any one thing too badly, it’s likely to turn out to be a disappointment. The only healthy way to live life is to learn to like all the little everyday things, like a sip of good whiskey in the evening, a soft bed, a glass of buttermilk, or a feisty gentleman like myself.”

Gus knew the craic.

Last month I was up and then after the Tesco man delivered the messages, I was down. You see, I had ordered several tins of cannellini beans but because they weren’t available, Mr Tesco substituted me with a large bag of dried pinto beans.

“What the Fonz am I supposed to do with these things?” I didn’t ask the delivery driver (as I didn’t notice the dried goods until he had quit the scene). One minute you’re up, the next you’re down.

I am thus further reminded of the name of the bar in Lonesome Dove, one ‘Dry Bean Saloon.’ To be fair, it sounded like quite the establishment of a weekend evening for men of a certain appetite, if you take my meaning.

Meanwhile back at the ranch… I was lumbered with the pinto beans and being the adventurous cowboy that I am, I decided I had better make a fist of things – or if not a fist, at least a pinto-related recipe.

A quick dig online soon told me that pinto beans are the most common pulse to be transformed into that Mexican staple, refried beans.

“Result!” thought I, refried beans being an old favourite of mine.

Tentatively, I checked the instructions on the back of the pack of beans, dreading for a moment that said instructions might instruct me to soak the beans overnight. For some reason best known to my inherent laziness, soaking beans overnight has mostly proved a bridge too far.

“Result!” said I, after reading that an overnight soaking in not necessary. Instead, the beans would take a single hour’s simmer to cook through.

Fast forward four weeks and I’ve been through four more bags of the pinto beans and a fifth is already open; which gives you an idea of how successful my recent pinto adventure has been. Sometimes you’re down, sometimes you’re up.

In short, the dried pinto refried beans have proven a rare joy and are above and beyond anything Old El Paso and the like passes off as refried beans in a can or a pouch. Never again, Old El Robbers!

The basic recipe on the back of the pack advises using 100g of beans at a time. However, I have since found that the more beans I make, the more I eat, thus that 100g has likely increased to 150 or 200g – although I wouldn’t know, because I stopped weighing things after a while. It’s that easy.

Slathered onto a warm flatbread or used as a condiment for a toasty, or even as a side for some fajitas or an enchilada, my own refried beans probably aren’t too authentic, but they’re high on taste and satisfaction and that’s what matters in my greedy gut world. This is the recipe I’ve developed over the past four weeks and it’s one that I’ll return to time and again. I’ve gone with the smallest amount of beans (100g) but if you like you can always double the quantities. I know I do.

INGREDIENTS

100g of refried beans

500ml of water (and probably a dash more)

3 cloves of garlic, peeled

Heaped tbsp of butter

1 tsp of ground cumin

Half a tsp of smoked paprika

Pinch of chipotle flakes (optional but recommended)

Half a tsp of salt

Good grinding of black pepper

Half a tsp of sugar

THE PLAN

First rinse the beans in some cold water to clean things up a bit and remove any grit.

Dump these into a sauce pan with the garlic gloves and add in the water. Bring to a boil and then reduce the heat so that the beans simmer gently. Let them rip for an hour, stirring from time to time. If they begin to look a little dry two thirds of the way through the cooking, add another dash of hot water from the kettle.

After the hour, check a bean and if it’s soft, they’re ready to go.

Strain the beans and the garlic cloves, collecting the bean liquor, and set aside.

Add the butter to the same saucepan (medium heat) the beans came out of and when it starts to foam, add in the cumin, chipotle flakes and smoked paprika. Stir fry for 20 seconds and then dump the beans and garlic back in. Stir everything up so that it’s combined and then, with the pan still on the heat, mash the beans and garlic with a potato masher until rightly smashed.

It will like stick to the bottom of the pan, but that’s OK.

Use some of the reserved bean liquor to deglaze the pan and scrape up any sticky bits with a wooden spoon.

Ideally you want the beans half way between super thick and runny – just a bit loose. So, keeping adding the liquor until you get the right consistency. It’s also worth bearing in mind that the beans will thicken slightly as they cool.

Next add in the salt, sugar and pepper and mix through. Check the seasoning and if it needs a little bit of salt or sugar, fire another pinch in. And that’s it.

When cooled, a tub of this stuff will live happily in the fridge for a week. But that’s only if you don’t take to it with a big spoon like me.

Sometimes you’re up…