The Goodness of Green Beans

by

Just as pork reigns supreme as the “meat of the mountains” and cornmeal holds pride of place when it comes to bread as a basic staple of life, green beans have to be reckoned as the vegetable, arguably above all others, identified with traditional mountain foodways. Solid arguments could be made for maters and taters, but for varied taste and ways of preparation, not to mention the myriad types of green beans, all things considered in my mind they’ve got a pride of place when it comes to the wonders of vegetables.

One constant in my life—as a both a gardener and when it comes to eating—is inconstancy. By that I mean I’ve always been given to endless experimentation in growing (and eating) varieties of beans—pole beans, half runners, bunch beans, greasy beans, shucky beans, shelly beans, cornfield beans, and more. Indeed, most dedicated mountain tillers of the soil in both yesteryear and today have been great ones for trying new seeds. However, once they found a winner, seeds from that particular variety would be religiously saved or bought each spring from the local feed-and-seed store. Occasionally the latter could backfire, such as the occasion when my father, after two decades or more of planting a prolific, tasty half runner bean known as White Princess, suddenly was unable to obtain seeds. Since I’d always relied on him to buy some for me as well, both of us were bereft and beanless. For me, the go-to replacement came in the form of a pole bean, with seed being gifted to me by a fellow, Ken Roper, who lived in the tiny North Carolina hamlet of Topton. He called them Nantahala Runner Beans and said they had a seed history stretching back the better part of two centuries. Since that point I’ve seen seeds from what I feel fairly certain are the same bean show up in regional heirloom catalogs.

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Personal experiences of a similar sort could likely be shared by most longtime mountain gardeners, and they all point to the importance of green beans in traditional mountain fare. Certainly they graced our family table with considerable regularity. Daddy was ever vigilant when it came to the ravages of bean beetles and harvesting beans as they matured. As a result we had green beans from the time of the first picking right up into autumn. Yet, eating them fresh was only one aspect of a bigger picture. Momma was never fully satisfied with her summertime and early fall canning until she had at least 100 quart jars of green beans lining the capacious homemade shelving in our basement. On top of that, there would be long strings of leather britches (dried green beans) hanging from rafters and beans were always a part of the soup mix she canned. Obviously they were a central item of diet in my youth (and beyond), and the recipes below represent some of the favorites among the myriad ways they can be prepared.

Holy Green Beans

Although Momma never used the term, after her death the family frequently referred to a big pot of green beans cooked in traditional mountain fashion as “holy green beans.” In other words, they had had the hell cooked right out of them, leaving only holy goodness. We got the humorous yet accurate description from a wonderful Black lady, Beulah Suddereth, who helped out some as Mom’s health began to decline and continued to do so after her passing. Whatever the origin of the terminology, in my boyhood household and indeed right through my parents’ long lives there was none of this tender-crisp, cooked-with-a-touch-of-olive-oil nonsense when it came to green beans. You strung and broke the beans and put them in a big pot with plenty of water. Two or three slices of streaked meat were then added and the pot set on a burner. Once the water was brought to a rolling boil, Momma would then reduce the heat and allow the beans to simmer, all the while absorbing some of the streaked meat’s salty goodness, for hours. Incidentally, basically the same approach was used for cooking various types of dried beans, crowder peas, cabbage, mustard or turnip greens, poke salad (the final go round after it had been cooked and drained twice) and the like.

  • Suitable quantity of fresh green beans (will depend on how many folks you plan to serve) washed, strung, and broken.
  • Water
  • 2 or 3 slices of streaked meat cut about a quarter-inch thick
  • Black pepper to taste (optional)

Place the beans and streaked meat in the pot, set to boiling, and allow to simmer for several hours. Check periodically and add water as needed. Do not include salt since the meat likely will have enough to take care of seasoning. If not, salt can always be added after cooking is complete.

Leather Britches

Mountain folks have always had a gift for descriptive language, and the words “leather britches” for dried green beans offer a fine example. These are just beans preserved through the simple means of removing their strings, threading the beans onto a length of thread, and drying them in the summer sun until sufficient moisture has been removed to give them a leathery texture and prevent spoilage. The beans were often hung in an out-of-the-way area in the kitchen to keep them handy for cooking and to make sure no moisture led to problems with molding.

  • Leather britches (dried green beans)
  • Water
  • Seasoning: streaked meat, bacon, or ham
  • Salt (be careful here, because the meats used for seasoning may well contain all the salt needed)
  • Pepper (black or cayenne flakes)

Soak dried green beans overnight before cooking. Discard water and rinse. Add leather britches to a large stock pot and cover with water. Add choice of meat to season dried beans. My favorite meat to use is streaked meat. For a mess of leather britches I add 2 or 3 pieces of meat. Cook greens beans for several hours until soft and tender. Additional water will need to be added as the leather britches cook down over a long period of time. Since the leather britches are dried they will take much longer to cook than fresh green beans. Leather britches have a totally different taste than fresh or canned green beans. The drying process gives them a deep rich and slightly smoky flavor. Some folks like to add a spoonful or two of chowchow to a serving of this traditional dish.

Tip: Leather britches may be made from any type of green beans, but Greasy Beans and White Half Runners work especially well.

Green Bean Casserole

In my family, casseroles of any kind have always tended to be something most frequently prepared for holidays, church suppers, family reunions, or gatherings of about any kind where food had to be transported. I’m not sure of the reasoning behind the practice. Maybe it was because a casserole was a bit fancier or perhaps it involved ease of transport, reheating, or some other factor. Whatever the case, green bean casseroles, along with those featuring squash, always seemed to be favorites.

  • 2 cans store bought green beans or a quart jar of home-canned beans, drained
  • 1 can cream of mushroom soup
  • 1 cup shredded sharp Cheddar cheese such as Cabot Seriously Sharp
  • 1 can crispy fried onions
  • 1 tablespoon salt (or to taste)
  • Fresh-ground black pepper
  • Crumbled bits from 4 or 5 slices of fried bacon (the real McCoy)

Thoroughly mix the drained green beans and condensed mushroom soup in a microwave safe bowl and then microwave on high until warm (around 3 minutes). Stir half of the shredded Cheddar cheese into the beans and mushroom soup mixture and microwave on high for an additional 2 minutes. Transfer to a baking dish and top with bacon bits and remaining cheese. Grind black pepper atop casserole. Place in an oven that has been pre-heated to 350 degrees and bake for 8 to 10 minutes (until cheese is melted and has just begun to brown). Remove, sprinkle French-fried onions, and bake for another 90 seconds. Serve piping hot.

Sauteed String Beans and Garlic

My late wife enjoyed green beans at least as much as I did, but her favorite preparation varied dramatically from mine. I belong to the streaked meat school of green bean cookery and love a pot of beans that has plenty of “shellies” (beans shelled taken from pods that had begun to turn yellow and are too tough to cook) while she preferred crisp young beans where the actual bean had barely begun to mature inside the pod. Here’s how she prepared them, and honesty compels me to acknowledge they were mighty tasty.

  • Fresh young green beans—figure a generous handful of whole beans per serving
  • 3 medium-sized garlic cloves
  • ¼ stick or more (as needed) salted butter
  • Black pepper

Wash and clean the beans, stringing if necessary although if they are young enough this probably won’t be required. The beans should be fresh (if one bends rather than readily snapping in half they aren’t fresh enough). Pat dry with paper towels and set aside while the garlic is prepared. Chop fine (do not use a garlic press or mince but instead rely on a small chef’s knife or an Ulu) and then sauté until crispy brown in butter that has been melted in a large skillet. Add green beans and continue to sauté, using a small spatula or tongs to toss and coat beans thoroughly. The cooking process should continue only to the point the beans are fully sautéed but still crisp. Do not cook until limp. Serve immediately as a side dish, perhaps with mashed potatoes, with roast pork, roast beef, or baked chicken.

About the author: Jim Casada is a full-time freelance writer whose interests include regional cuisine, foods from the wild, hunting and fishing, and the culture and tradition of the Smokies. His latest books include Fishing for Chickens: A Smokies Food Memoir and, with coauthor Tipper Pressley, Celebrating Southern Appalachian Foods: Recipes & Stories from Mountain Kitchens. For more details or to order signed copies, visit jimcasadaoutdoors.com.

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