The Perfect Pot of Pink Beans

I recently stumbled across the perfect recipe for Pink Beans after following my usual culinary ritual of tossing and shaking little bits of this and that into the pot. 

When I gave the habichuelas the final taste test after 45 minutes of simmering and praying to the Dominican Abuelita ancestors, my taste buds did a jig as I breathed in the unmistakable aroma del Cibao and puffed my chest out. It was in fact the smell AND taste of success. 

I recently disowned 95% of my immediate family, including my grandmother, and it feels good, and I didn't want to give up the taste of Authentic Dominican Comida de la Doce style Beans just cause they don't know how to act. 

Now, regarding my treacherous maternal grandmother, she would sniff at this recipe as it calls for, GASP- CANNED Goya beans. A true Dominican, campesina Mama would never buy beans in a can.

They stink up the house with the dreaded pressure cooker to soften bags of dry beans, or have enough of a routine that they know 24 hours in advance they are going to make beans, and put them to soak the night before. 

This recipe is for people who decide they want beans at 10:30 am and haven't ever prepared a Comida de la Doce in they mfin life. 

This is what you need: If you manage to score these ingredients from a stinky, sketchy C-Town or Bravo supermercado, these beans will taste better, I SWEAR.  

1 15.5 oz can of Goya Pink Beans 

1 TBS Goya Extra Virgin Olive Oil 

1 chunk of peeled Auyama (West Indian Pumpkin)

The good end of the rotting Green Pepper forgotten in the corner of the crisper (about 4 pieces or oz)

1 small Yellow Onion or the good pieces of a larger one that is starting to go bad as well (about 4 oz)

chop it up into big chunks 

2 cloves of Garlic (smush under a 'Psycho'-style knife or slave over a mortar and pestle, food processor if you're nasty)

1 tsp of Oregano leaves NEVER POWDERED

              

1 tsp of fresh Cilantro leaves CHOPPED

2 pieces of fresh Culantro leaves 

             

1 packet of Sazon Goya (little magic orange packets) (blasphemous, I know)

1 8 oz can of Goya Tomato Sauce 

1 cup of Water (wash out the empty can of beans, no need for a measuring cup, I'm slightly ashamed for owning one/it's from the Dollar Tree/fuck it I'm bougie)

Sprinkle of Salt 

Medium sized pot (handle optional)

Preheat the pan and olive oil 

Saute the peppers and onions while you scrounge for the rest of the ingredients, remind yourself to watch more Food Network and Tasty cooking videos.. 

Add the garlic, culantro, cilantro, auyama, tomato sauce, Sazon packet, water, and the beans

Stir stir stir 

THEN get a potato masher or a fork and SMUSH the beans ---

This will produce thick, extra delicious bean sauce (soupy, skimpy beans are disgusting and have a super undesirable texture)

Simmer simmer bring to a bubble/slight boil 

Stir stir stir 

Simmer for about 15 more minutes and watch the sauce thicken to a beautiful creamy texture 

Serve over hot white rice and save leftover portions for next day burritos or just hella seconds of rice and beans.  

When I prepared these beans I wasn't sure what I was doing, I just knew I really wanted some rice and beans that day. I put love and hope into all my dishes as I never thought I would learn to cook, much less make the delicious food I now proudly serve my baby girl. We keep our culture alive when we learn to cook our favorite dishes from home. Everything tastes better when Mom makes it, but in my case as in others whose Moms have passed, we have no choice but to honor her memory by perfecting at least few of her dishes. In my case I am in pursuit of the perfect Arepita de maiz and her perfectly Fried Egg, and last night I created a pot of beans that brought a tear to my eye. I know she would drink it like a soup and praise the fresh taste: "Dominicans cook fresh! We cook from scratch! This is excellent, Daughter!" she would surely exclaim! in her accent as thick as that sauce, and slurp up every last trace from the extra big bowl in her lap as she devoured her latest novela or Caso Cerrado. 

As I gain small successes in the kitchen the emotions run bittersweet as I can't help but imagine myself going next door to offer my mom a plate. 

She suffered from severe clinical depression and it was difficult for her to feed herself. We lived directly next door to each other in adjacent apartments and I would share a plate with her whenever I made or ordered dinner. A covered plate is considered a sin in Dominican culture and no matter what transpired within our Narcissistic mother/subjugated daughter dynamic I could never withhold food from my mother. 

I grew into the age of leaning over your mom's shoulder and taking mental notes while she made your favorites, as my mother spiraled deeper into a depression that kept our stove cold and our kitchen dark. I was robbed of the luxury of watching and learning. We languished under the shadows of soul crushing domestic violence. My soul itself was eclipsed by horror. 

At some point in life I decided I wanted to be a mom and I swore that I would have my very own signature dishes that my children could request and feel comforted by. I got really good at making salmon first, but was convinced I'd never be able to cook "Dominican". 

This "Bean Triumph" is in fact much more than just a culinary achievement. The Beans symbolize me claiming my personal power while preserving and embracing my culture while rejecting and neutralizing decades of underhanded insults that I would never even be able to peel a platano.  

I spent so many hours in other people's kitchens. I walked for hours and miles over the course of a decade, to warm, bustling kitchens where I was welcomed with open arms and I didn't even have to do the dishes.

Now, I am 6 days away from turning 40 and I have a cozy kitchen full of culture, spices, matching plates, fancy pots, Love and nary a measuring spoon in sight! I feel joy and pleasure when my daughter comes in and asks for seconds of something delicious I made especially for her. Her fat little belly and baby voiced "Mommy, I'm full", fullfills ME and I praise Life in that moment of fleeting grace. 

J.S 

Brooklyn, NY 2020