Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.



But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket; you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores; dried and canned chiles are a common staple; and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.



Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

Ranch style beans
Ingredients:
16 oz. of dried pinto beans
6 ancho chiles, stems and seeds removed
6 cloves of garlic, minced
1 onion, diced
1 15 oz. can of tomatoes (or 2 medium-sized tomatoes, peeled)
1 teaspoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon oregano
1 cup of water
6 cups of beef broth
Salt and black pepper to taste

Method:
Soak the beans covered in water—either overnight or the quick soak method in which you place the beans in a pot, cover with water, bring to a boil, cover and remove from heat and let sit for one hour.

Drain the soaked beans.

In a cast-iron skillet heated up to medium high, cook the anchos on each side for a couple of minutes (or until they start to bubble and pop), turn off the heat and fill the skillet with warm water. Let them sit until soft and rehydrated, which should happen after half an hour or so.

In the pot you’ll be cooking your beans, heat up a teaspoon of canola oil and cook the onions for ten minutes on medium. Add the garlic and cook for another minute. Throw the cooked onions and garlic in a blender and add the tomatoes, brown sugar, apple cider vinegar, paprika, cumin, oregano, water and hydrated ancho chiles. Puree until smooth.

Add the pinto beans and beef broth to the pot and stir in the chile puree. On high, bring the pot to a boil and then cover; turn the heat down to low and simmer for two and a half hours, stirring occasionally. At this point, I check my beans for tenderness as depending on the freshness of the beans I find that the cooking time can be as short as two and a half hours and as long as four hours. When you're satisfied that the beans are done, salt and pepper to taste.

Feeds four to six.

Notes: If you can’t find dried ancho chiles, you can substitute either ancho chile powder or regular chili powder. I’d use 1/4 of a cup. These are not fiery beans, but if you want a bit more heat I'd throw in a bit of Cayenne. And I always add a pinch of baking soda to my soaking beans to help with digestion issues. You may do the same.

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Tacos al carbon

If you were in Houston in the 1980’s, it was hard to escape the ubiquitous tacos al carbon. Ninfa Laurenzo—of the eponymous Ninfa’s—made them her signature dish and as with her green sauce, many Houston Mexican restaurants soon added these tacos to their menus as well. Tacos al carbon became a defining characteristic of Houston Tex-Mex

But what exactly are tacos al carbon?

The term al carbon is the Spanish phrase for cooking over coal, so you should expect grilled meats inside a tortilla. If you have tacos al carbon in Mexico, you will indeed find a variety of meats wrapped in either corn or flour tortillas depending on where you are geographically. But in Texas tacos al carbon came to mean one thing: cuts of grilled beef, nestled in a fluffy flour tortilla.



But wait, isn’t that a fajita? Now this is where it gets confusing.

So what's the difference between fajitas and tacos al carbon? As I understand it, very little. Fajitas, which translates to little belts, are traditionally made with the tough diaphragm cut of beef known as skirt steak, which is a long and narrow, much like a belt.

The meat is often marinated and then grilled or griddled, and it’s served with a prescribed array of condiments such as guacamole, pico de gallo, sour cream and a stack of flour tortillas, all used to roll your own tacos. And yes, you can make fajitas, the dish, out of shrimp or chicken, but since the word itself refers to the cut of beef, technically it should be called something else.

Tacos al carbon, however, can be made with any type of meat, not just the traditional skirt steak. And unlike fajitas, the tacos are already made instead of being a do-it-yourself affair. I think this is the main difference, but even for me it’s a bit of a semantic stretch.

Small differences aside, I still prefer tacos al carbon to fajitas. Sure, fajitas are a quite the spectacle, but sometimes you crave a more refined presentation. (Or perhaps I prefer tacos al carbon because I burned myself on the sizzling fajita skillet one too many times!) But no matter how you serve it, it’s hard to resist a fresh flour tortilla wrapped around succulent beef so flavorful you can eat the two together unadorned.



I live in a small apartment without any outdoor space so there’s no cooking over coal for me. But if I get my cast-iron skillet hot enough and then slide my steak under the broiler, I get a nice charred crust that’s almost as good as what I could get on a grill. So yes, technically these aren’t true tacos al carbon (they're more like tacos a la plancha, which means tacos of the griddle). But I don’t mind because after one bite I’m back in that little restaurant on Navigation where the beef is juicy, the tortillas are soft and the green sauce is plentiful.

Tacos al carbon, small-apartment style
Ingredients:
2 pounds skirt steak
Juice of 4 limes (about 1/2 cup)
4 cloves of garlic
1/4 cup cilantro
1 jalapeno
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon black pepper
1 teaspoon of canola oil or nonstick cooking spray
Four green onions (optional)

Method:
To make the marinade, in a blender mix all the ingredients except for the skirt steak, canola oil and green onions. Pour over skirt steak and let it marinate for 2 to 8 hours in the refrigerator.

Before cooking, rinse off the marinade and let the steak come to room temperature. Heat on high for 10 minutes a large cast-iron skillet or grill pan (you may have to cut the steak in half to fit). Also, turn on the broiler in your oven. When the skillet is hot (to test I throw in a drop of water and it should immediately evaporate), grease your pan with either the oil or nonstick cooking spray and add your steak. Cook on one side for two minutes then turn and cook on the other side for two minutes.

After it’s cooked on both sides, place the green onions in the skillet with the steak still in it and place the skillet under the broiler for two minutes. Remove steak from pan and let it rest for 10 minutes. If onions aren’t charred enough, slide the skillet back under the broiler. After meat has rested, slice the meat against the grain and roll in fluffy, flour tortillas with green onions on the side.

Serves 4-6.

Notes: I don’t have a grill or outdoor space, so I don’t know as much as I’d like to about the subject, but to cook the steaks truly al carbon, I’ve been told five minutes per side should do the trick.

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Homesick Texan has been nominated for best regional food blog in Savuer’s First Annual Best Food Blog Awards. I’m pleased as punch about this nod as it just confirms what we’ve all known for a long time: Texas food is wonderful! Please be sure and check out all the excellent blogs nominated--it's quite a round up! And if you’re so inclined I’d love your vote, which you can place right here. Thank you!

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Chipotle macaroni and cheese with bacon

I’m roasting chiles and frying up bacon. What am I making, you might ask? What everybody wants to eat after being ill for a few days: chipotle macaroni and cheese. With bacon, of course.

OK, so this might seem a bit heavy for a re-entry into the land of the normal eating, but let me tell you—I’m hungry! And while the best thing I can say about not feeling well is that your skinny jeans are suddenly a viable option in your wardrobe, in the end I’d rather be well than ill. Though who wouldn’t? But let’s talk about chipotle macaroni and cheese, shall we?

My family, much like yours I reckon, has always made homemade macaroni and cheese. Sure, we’d have the box stuff on hand for after-school snacks or donations to the church food pantry, but in my house the real, homemade stuff was what was preferred.



Mom makes her macaroni and cheese in a variety of ways, but my favorite is a casserole of pasta suspended in a luscious sauce comprised of egg yolks, cheese and heavy cream. And just when you think it couldn’t be any more extravagant, she throws in diced, thick ham and tops it off with buttery breadcrumbs.

Yes, this is an excellent dish, but because of its richness I only advise serving it on special occasions. When it comes to a more everyday, simple macaroni and cheese, I turn to a method I learned in the New York Times.

This recipe requires little effort besides pouring cottage cheese blended with milk over dry pasta, tossing in some shredded cheese and baking it for an hour. No endless stirring a sauce or boiling a batch of pasta, which makes it a cinch to make. The Times version kept it plain, but I’ve made it my own by adding chipotle and garlic. And I top it with bacon and cotija, which adds contrast to the oozing cheese and soft pasta.



I realize that my macaroni and cheese may appear decadent as decadent as my monm's, but feel free to convince yourself that it’s a touch more healthy due to the cottage cheese and all. I do. But you know what? We’re nearing the end of a long, cold winter and sometimes you just need to pamper yourself. And for me, comfort comes clothed in chipotle chiles, cheese and bacon.

Chipotle macaroni and cheese with bacon (adapted from the NY Times)
Ingredients:
2 cups of dry elbow pasta
2 cups of milk
1 cup of cottage cheese
1 chipotle chile in adobo
1 teaspoon mustard powder
1 clove of garlic, roughly chopped
Pinch of cumin
Salt and black pepper to taste
3 cups of shredded cheese, a mix of cheddar and Monterey Jack
1/4 cup of crumbled cotija cheese (optional, but delicious!)
4 pieces of cooked bacon, chopped
1 tablespoon of butter

Method:
Heat the oven to 375 degrees.

Grease a 9-inch cast-iron skillet or a 9-inch square or round baking pan with the butter. Add the dry pasta.

In a blender, mix together the milk, cottage cheese, chipotle chile, mustard powder, garlic, cumin, salt and black pepper until it’s smooth. Pour mixture over dry pasta and stir until sauce is evenly distributed.

Stir in two cups of the shredded cheese, cover the pan with foil and bake for 30 minutes.

After 30 minutes, remove the foil and stir the macaroni and cheese a couple of times. Top with the remaining 1 cup of shredded cheese and chopped bacon and cook for another 25 minutes uncovered or until brown and bubbling.

Remove from oven, sprinkle with cotija and serve.

Note: If you’re not familiar with cotija cheese, it’s a Mexican hard cheese that’s like a cross between feta and parmesan. It’s become increasingly more common, so you can find it at many regular grocery stores and Hispanic markets. And if you live in New York City, I found at Mexicana Bakery in Jackson Heights at 86-06 Roosevelt a wonderful cotija coated in dried chiles. Also, chipotle bacon jam might go dandy with this as well!

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