Calico Beans

At the prompting of my daughter, I made calico beans for supper last night, a family favorite for three decades, a fall and winter staple in our homes since we first encountered them long ago. Sometime around college or early grad school, I helped my friend Dave Jones help his family move some things, and his mother fed us lunch, something that was not chili and not our Kentucky-native soup beans, but something that was new and equally appetizing.

I met Dave at Berea College. We both worked at Boone Tavern, and we seemed as different as could be: I was from small-town Kentucky, he was from Pennsylvania; I was an English major, he was a hotel-management major; he was out-going and confident, I was an introverted mass of insecurities. As so often is the case, though, we ignored the differences and became friends anyway, which resulted in hours of D&D and Trivial Pursuit, a full summer of exploring every possible trail on the Pinnacles, countless hours (probably days) of philosophical (for college students) discussions, and one amazing recipe.

 The best recipes have three components, and chocolate is not always one of them. The best recipes are simple, result in tasty food, and connect us to memories. Calico beans fit all three criteria. (Please note that the three components may very well change, depending on the situation. Nothing is hard-and-fast.)

Calico beans does not have a recipe so much as guidelines. Begin with hamburger. I use a pound-and-a-half to two pounds. Brown the meat, scrambling it in the process. Drain the hamburger. Add a pound of kielbasa or smoked sausage cut into quarter-inch slices and heat through. Add ketchup (three-fourth cup to a cup), mustard (quarter to half a cup), and brown sugar (one cup, more or less); all the seasonings should be adjusted for personal taste. Mix the meat and seasonings together and let warm through. Add five (or more) cans of beans; use a variety—this is what makes the dish calico, more like the cat than the cloth—mottled.

 I usually use kidney beans (light and dark), pinto beans, great Northern beans, cannellini beans, and either lima or garbanzo beans (because we prefer only one kind of bean with the mealy texture at a time). Add salt and pepper to taste, then add enough water to cover everything. I made last night’s feast in a Dutch oven, but the beans cook well in a crockpot, also. I bring everything to a boil, then simmer for at least an hour. Last night, things simmered for about four hours, which, as Huck Finn observed, lets the flavors all swap around.

We eat our calico beans with cornbread, but I suppose crackers would suffice; however, cornbread trumps crackers almost every time. The leftovers make great lunch food, so make a big pot. Last night, the daughter was happy with her meal, and we all enjoyed our first calico beans of the season.  We tend to alternate the calico beans with chili and some other soup-like meal every week throughout the fall and winter, and the sweet flavor profile of the calico beans offers a different taste to complement the spicy chili and the savory soup. It is pure comfort food.