Corn, Bean, and Barley Soup

Posted March 01, 2010

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This is very basic and lovely food. Plus, kids will give anything the benefit of the doubt if they can see corn in it.

Beans and barley, dry.

Beans and barley, soaked, when I still thought everything was going fine. "Why oh why didn't I use canned beans?" I beseeched the heavens above.

These things are not in the original recipe, but it's very difficult for me to proceed with a soup recipe if I haven't sauteed onions and celery first.

Just the sight of this color makes me excited about spring.

Meanwhile, Mr. Helpful was lounging helpfully nearby. Recently I grabbed Birdy and said, "Mmm, I'm so in love with that new front tooth I'm going to have to marry it!" And she said, "Uh oh! Then you'll have to divorce Craney first!" True. But now she refers to her tooth as "your wife."

Since we were out of bread, plan B was popovers. Only in taking this picture did I notice that we were out of milk too.

Hence Plan C. Frozen waffles.

But this may not be the last time I serve waffles with soup.

And only after I lit the candles did I realize. . .

. . . it was still light out! Hallelujah.

"You sound like an ad for a pressure cooker." This is Ben at the dinner table, and he's right. I do. I cannot stop talking about it. "I know," I say. "But seriously? Those beans were never going to soften without it. I mean, I cooked them for, like, a hundred hours in a regular pot and they were still tough as fingernails! They were like bean fossils from the Pleistocene era! They were like meteoric detritus from some other galaxy. And then four minutes in the pressure cooker and--poof!--perfectly cooked."

"The amazing pressure cooker!" Ben says in his commercial-announcing voice. "But wait--there's more!"

There is more. In fact, I talk about the pressure cooker for another full minute before I promise to stop. But this dinner has turned into a strangely epic mishap, and I am traumatized. It's ironic, too, given that I was cooking it for this column precisely because it's the easiest, most nourishing late winter meal I make. I swear. But have I mentioned how the beans wouldn't soften? They wouldn't. I cooked and cooked and cooked them, until the barley started to disintegrate and the whole soup was like pink-tinted oatmeal studded with stubborn kidney-bean-shaped pebbles. "Forking beans," I said, in more of a rhyming-with-duck kind of a way. Also I said, "Aaaaagh!" And, "Kill me!" I actually lay down on the floor at some point.

Have I mentioned the migraine headache? No? Oh. I had a migraine headache. Which wasn't helping. Besides the way it makes you feel like your actual brain is sloshing around painfully inside your skull like the last, injured olive in a jar, there's the nauseatedness. I could smell our family's mildewy gloves, for instance, from upstairs. (Note to self: Don't get pregnant again.)

So, please know: typically, the recipe is very straightforward and easy, this soup, and should not require that you dirty every pot in the house and also manage an airlock and a steam valve and a "bringing up to full pressure" situation. Let me just say, though: I am fairly new to pressure cookers, but boy do I love mine. It makes me think I was crazy all those years to cook beans without one. It's not just that it's quicker; it's that the beans are always so creamy and perfect. "The amazing pressure cooker!" If you cook beans, get one, seriously. Email me and I will talk you through it. I'm not kidding. It's not actually scary at all, and I have not ever once felt like our house was going to rocket into the atmosphere on a geyser of steam.

Anyways, with the soup made, I just had to slice some bread! Only we were out of bread. So I would just stick some popovers in the oven! Only we were out of milk. In the end, I toasted frozen waffles (we make tons on the weekend and freeze them for easy school-morning breakfasts) and buttered them, and the kids were delighted. With a little smear of the herb mixture, Ben declared that his waffle tasted exactly like garlic bread. Sure, there have been silverer lingings. But after all that soup-making hoopla and headachey ick, it felt impressively undreary.

Corn, Bean, and Barley Soup with Herb Drizzle
Serves 8
Active time: 20 minutes; total time, including soaking: 2 hours (ideally)

This recipe is based on one from Deborah Madison's The Savory Way, a vegetarian cookbook that I love, from the Greens restaurant in San Francisco that I also love--restaurant and city both. I was initially attracted to the soup because she uses words like "sustaining," "deeply nourishing," "effortless," and "prehistoric" to describe it. Prehistoric! Without the herb drizzle, it's like eating hot cereal--good or bad, depending on your feeling about hot cereal; I don't personally recommend skipping the herb drizzle. I also serve it with the addition of roasted pumpkin seeds (recipe here) for a bit of crunch.

1 cup dried kidney beans (or 1 25-ounce can (or 2 15-ounce cans) kidney beans)
1 cup barley
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
1 quart chicken broth (or veggie broth, or more water)
6 cups water
Salt
2 cups frozen corn kernels

Either soak the beans and barley together overnight, or forget, and use the quick-soak method: cover them with plenty of cold water in a pot, bring them to a boil, turn off the heat, and leave them to soak for an hour or so. If you are using canned beans, don't soak them!

Now, warm the oil over medium-low heat in a soup pot and sauté the onion, garlic, and celery until they are softened and getting translucent--around 5 minutes or so. Add the soaked beans and barley (again, not if you are using canned beans! Don't add them!) along with the broth and water, then cover the pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Lower the heat, set the lid partially ajar, and simmer the beans and barley for half an hour. Now stir in 2 teaspoons of kosher salt (half as much table salt), then partially cover the soup again and simmer until the beans and barley are completely tender--from half an hour to 4 years longer. Stir in the corn and--finally!--the canned beans, if that's what you're using, then simmer another 5 minutes, taste for salt--it will needs some, and if you don't add it, it will be very porridgy--and serve with the herb drizzle and buttered waffles. Assuming you're out of bread.

Herb Drizzle

2 loosely packed cups parsley (leaves and small stems)
Small handful of celery leaves
1 clove garlic, smashed and peeled
1 teaspoon kosher salt (or half as much table salt)
Freshly ground black pepper
2 teaspoons white vinegar
1/4 cup olive oil

In a food processor or blender, whir together everything but the olive oil until fairly smooth. With the motor running, add the oil in a thin stream and whir until blended.

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Corn, Bean, and Barley Soup

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themumwhoflies says:

March 08, 2010

oooo, this is just the kind of soup I love! But I'm still afraid of pressure cookers. My husband has a funny story about scaring the crap out of his mom who was canning string beans in one. It involves a baloon and tossing the "tops" and "tails" onto the porch where she was sitting.
Ha ha.
Anyhoo, I'm with BJ: green chili's! Yes! And some La Victoria green taco sauce too!

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pfomby says:

March 05, 2010

I hope you popularize the pressure cooker! My mother still cooks for the family regularly in the pressure cooker she got for her wedding in 1962 or something. I've been too scared to carry on the tradition - surely the lid will blow off, I always think - but you've given me confidence.

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Jenifer_G says:

March 05, 2010

That soup looks awesome and the waffles make a weeknight supper tres exciting.

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Dalai Mama Dishes

by Catherine Newman

Catherine Newman cooks for the family

Dalai Mama Dishes

Catherine Newman cooks for the family

Corn, Bean, and Barley Soup

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