Pinto bean soup is a staple of the South. And when I say "the South" I mean the oooold South. I grew up here in Texas and remember eating my Grandmommy's version as a child. She tells me about the version that her mother-in-law made.

Food is always better with a story. Am I right?

My Grandpoppy grew up in rural Arkansas. He was the baby of 7; 5 older brothers and 1 sister. I think they may have been "over" having kids by the time he came along. His parents let his aunt name them. She chose the name Wenford. Seriously? That's not even a word. Which is why he went by Ray, or Ben, or a myriad of other names (a funny story for another day). But he was an awesome grandpa and I love and miss him so much that we gave Max the middle name of Ford after him. Because I love Max enough not to name him Wenford. Also because Grandpoppy made me promise before he passed away that I wouldn't give any of my children his awful name. He was awesome.

They lived on a cotton farm when he was a child. His dad would go "to town" twice a year for supplies. It was a full day's journey each way. By wagon. As my dad says, they may as well have been living in the 1700's.

He was born in the early 1930s, and everyone was still trudging their way through from the Depression. He told my dad a few times that the only food they had to eat sometimes was pinto bean soup and cornbread. Sometimes just cornbread. This meal is cheap, and there were lots of mouths to feed. Their house had no electricity or running water. Grandpoppy would tell me that they could see through the cracks in the walls of their house straight to the outside.

Makes me realize that most of what I complain about does not actually qualify as a problem.

So his momma made the soup, and her momma probably made the soup, all the way back until goodness knows when. Everybody does it a bit differently. It's one of those "little of this, little of that" kind or recipes.

This is my version. Probably a smidge fancier than my Great Grandmother's was. And it is awesome, and it makes me feel connected to my Grandpoppy.

the goods:

2 lbs dry pinto beans
8-12 cups water
1 diced yellow onion
2 stalks diced celery
1 minced jalapeno, seeds removed
1 ham hock (or leftover ham, or 1/2 lb uncooked bacon)
1 tsp chili powder
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
2 heaping tbsp Dijon mustard
Tobasco sauce

STEP ONE: I will never for the life of me remember to soak my beans over night. It's just not in the cards for me. So this is the quick soak method. Works great.

Place your beans in a LARGE, heavy bottom stock pot (I use the grand-daddy version of this Le Creuset). Cover with 8 cups of water. You want to be sure your beans are covered, so add more water if you need to. Add the ham, onions, celery, jalapeno, salt, pepper, and chili powder. Bring it all to a boil and allow it to boil for 2 minutes, stirring occasionally. Then turn off the heat, put the lid on, and let it sit for one hour.

This is a great recipe for using up leftovers. The celery and jalapeno were diced in my freezer. I try to dice and freeze most any veggie before it goes bad to use later. Great money saver. Carrots? Throw them in. Garlic? Yep, that too.

Big fat digression - My ham was left over from Christmas (it's been less than 6 months; don't judge me). This is a magical ham. It was delivered to my door from Ham I Am. It was meant for the previous home owners, but the gift giver did not get the memo that they'd moved. I had just delivered a baby and was ~~eating all food in sight~~ pretty hungry, and desperately wanted to warm it up on the spot and eat it in one sitting. BUT I did the right thing and called the company as soon as I saw the box to find out if they could find the right address or number for the recipients. I knew they hadn't moved far and could come pick it up. Then the great folks at Ham I Am made my Christmas and told me that I could keep the ham and they'd send a new one out to the old home owners. It was a Christmas miracle! Honesty does pay.

And you guys, if you ever need a ham, order from Ham I Am. It was awesome. And it's fun to say. You'll talk like Dr. Seuss for a week. And it comes with this magic elixir called Hogwash. It's unreal.

STEP TWO: After your beans have soaked for an hour, turn the heat back on to medium-low and bring up to a simmer. You're going to want to simmer these beans for at least 3 hours. Upwards of 6 would be fine. Just keep an eye on it and add more water if the level starts to drop below the beans.

STEP THREE: When it looks like it's about done, add 2 heaping tablespoons of Dijon mustard and a few (dozen) dashes of hot sauce to your taste.

That's it. Serve it with lots of good old fashioned Tobasco sauce, a tall glass of iced tea, and my bacon jalapeno cheesy skillet cornbread. Or regular cornbread. What evs.

You see Max's tiny little fingers trying to steal my food?! Step back, kid, or WE WILL HAVE WORDS.

Henry ate two bowls. HENRY. That kid doesn't eat anything. This soup is that good. As simple and country as it is, I love making this for people. It's not fancy or frilly, but people come back for more every time.

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