Mouse Food

Lulu would love to chew on the leftover bone but I think it has too many splintery pieces for a schnauzer. 

Yesterday, I was thinking about my upcoming rituximab infusion and wondered if it made any sense to do a few things before that I wouldn't be able to accomplish once I'm in my lovely little benadryl-induced snore session Thursday.

A logical line of reasoning. Yes. Unusual.

But I didn't want to do anything yukky like housecleaning. I supposed that I could write a few posts ahead for Reasonably Well, but then that really wasn't my authentic writing style, I thought. Which style? The one in which I sit down in front of my keyboard and blab blab blab about the day's events. It's a hard-to-come-by talent and I have worked diligently to refine this lazybutt method. Besides, I didn't want to strain my brain by actually planning something.

Super hubby John had just finished the laundry, so I didn't need to do that......hm.

It was another glorious fall day with windows opened wide and blue skies overhead. Ah. A perfect day to make soup, I decided. I seemed to recall that after the last rituximab go-around, a warm bowl of soup seemed satisfying. I could make a batch for dinner, then save the rest for Thursday night.

Unbelievably, I had a lovely pork hock in my refrigerator. (But that's a story for another day, people). And one of those neato bags of beans in my pantry. The kind that has a zillion different beans and a suspicious looking foil "seasoning packet". I always toss the packet. Who knows what's in there?

Ah. Specifically fifteen kinds of beans. 

So I grabbed my favorite soup pot and under the watchful eyes of all of my Halloween kitchen cats, began making a cauldron-full of comfort. And no. I was not wearing a black pointy hat or dumping in gross things like eye of newt.

Lots and lots of Halloween cats. 

John and I both love this soup with it's hearty broth, especially if we have a chunk of really good homeade bread to dip into the steaming bowlful.

Don't make soup the way that I do, which is to rinse the beans, throw them in a pot, dump in a big can of diced tomatoes, some sea salt, a couple crushed cloves of garlic, and a big coarsely chopped sweet Walla Walla onion. Then cover the whole thing with water, put the lid on the pot, and set the stove burner to medium.

I don't think that this is the way one should properly cook beans. My mother always soaked hers overnight and was very fussy about froth while they cooked. I'll bet Julia Child soaked her beans, too.

Whatever.

So I let the mixture come to a specific temperature, which is known around our house as "boiling the snot out of it", which is actually not a full boil but a gentle constant bubble. John's term. Not mine. Good grief in a bucket.

And, overall, it works.

Mmmm. This tastes really good after about three hours of cooking, but after re-heating it a day later it tastes fantastic.

I suppose we should come up with a name for this yummy supper. Right now I just call it That Bean Bag Soup.

Addendum: Guys. The lovely pork hock went into the pot first. Then the other stuff. Oops. See what I mean when I say DON'T follow this recipe??