haricot beans | Real Food Lover

Cut-up turnip tops and into the pan they go

After a lively exchange on Facebook about how to cook turnip tops, I set to con brio.

I also consulted Jane Grigson‘s The Vegetable Book and, as always, she came up trumps with Broccoletti di rape. They eat turnip tops in Italia, you know, and appreciate their health-giving qualities.

Then I winklerfied all the information and this is what happened:

I started the whole process by frying onions because once I have done that – I am committed.

I washed the fresh turnip tops bought the day before at Bristol Farmers’ market from the wonderfully abundant organic Wrington Greens stall.

Leaves so young and fresh, I had no need to remove their stalks – just gathered them on a board and chopped them once or twice.

Then tipped them into the gently frying onions (see pic above) and stirred it all a bit.

But what to add? It’s amazing what is in the fridge. I found haricot beans, cooked at the weekend, perfectly edible and ready to go.

And of course the ubiquitous brown rice, cooked the night before.

Several grinds of black pepper, a smattering of nutmeg, a crunch or two of rock salt, a splatter of soya sauce, and about 5-10 minutes later, the dish was ready to eat.

Voilà , a plate of mean greens and beans…

turnip-greens-with-fried-onions-and-haricot-beans

Haricot beans and pumpkin

A pan on stove with beans and cut up pumpkin and sweet potato

As a cook, I’d say my forte is ‘gunge’. OK, it’s never going to win a beauty contest but the concoction is reliable and balanced. What more do you want from a lifetime companion?

I had covered the dried organic haricots beans with water, soaking them overnight. The next day, I struck a light under their pan’s bottom and let the beans simmer away in bubbling hot water for a good hour and a half.

I fried a whole onion (sliced) in olive oil and added a dried chili, finely sliced. Wait. Chili is important. I did not discover it until mid-life. If it passed me by, could it have passed you by too? If so, I beg you to experiment with the fiery creature. Let me know how you get on.

I then attacked the half of a butternut pumpkin loitering in a forgotten corner of the fridge and after peeling and de-seeding it, then cutting it in cubes, I hurled it into the frying onions. After that, I felt calmer. After adding more olive oil, I let it slowly braise with the onions (with Neil Basilo’s tips for unctuousness ringing in my ears), stirring it occasionally to stop the mixture sticking.

Typically, I then lost my focus and did something else. Not good for a dish. It feels neglected and doesn’t give its all. Realising the pumpkin had gone too soft, I quickly peeled, cubed and boiled a sweet potato in another pan. This flirtation with another veg produced fresh bright orangeness (although I felt a bit disloyal to the overcooked pumpkin). Then I assembled them all with the drained beans (see above).

When the time came to serve, I heated it all up again extremely hot with brown rice from the night before (always blast cooked-again food with bug-obliterating heat).

Having morphed into a kind of risotto and topped with some fresh organic leaves, the dish didn’t look half bad (see below) and tasted even better.

Voilà – a classic gunge. Everyday fare. Might not get a fanfare. But treats you fair.