Navy Bean Soup and Memories
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My parents grew up during The Great Depression. Dad said that his family did fairly well because my paternal grandfather was a gamekeeper for a pheasant farm. He remembered that his mother canned everything from fruit and vegetables to meats.
My maternal grandparents lived on a small farm with their daughters. My grandfather worked as a carpenter and also tended to the large garden. They grew plants and vegetables all their lives. It was a favorite place to roam when visiting their home in Pennsylvania.
Growing up in a small town in New Jersey, we didn’t have a garden each year. One year Dad grew tomatoes but never went beyond that. But we frequented farmer’s markets, roadside stands and “You Pick” farms for fruits and vegetables that my Mom would, in her words, “put up” for the year. She didn’t do as much canning as her own mother, but what she did was amazing. Pints of strawberry preserves, pepper jelly and applesauce were so much better than anything store bought.
Mom cooked everything from scratch and relied heavily on a pressure cooker. With the pressure cooker she could make roast beef quickly and without heating the kitchen too much. This was especially important because we didn’t have air conditioning in our home. She made so many things with a simple pressure cooker: blueberry dumplings, roast beef with potatoes, carrots and onions, corn chowder and my not-so-favorite Navy Bean and Ham soup. Seriously, I hated it when I was a kid. Dinnertime was excruciating when she made ham and bean soup. Excruciating from a kid’s point of view.
After my divorce, my boys and I moved in with my parents. They, like their mama, also hated navy bean soup, but they didn’t dare complain. At least they didn’t complain at the table. I’d hear about it when I tucked him in each night. “Ugh, why does Grandmom have to make that stuff?! It’s terrible!!”
After she passed away in 2017, the boys talked about all the dishes she made when we lived with her. They talked about them fondly and begged me to give them the recipes or make the same meals on Sundays when we got together. This week I thought of her as my youngest son was telling me that the grocery store was completely out of meat. He works at the store and has offered to pick up things when he finishes his long shifts so I don’t have to venture out into the crowds. It’s not that I’m at risk for the virus, I’m 58 with no history of respiratory issues. But all of my boys would rather have me stay home like a hermit to remain healthy. The boys I raised have turned into caring, giving, hard-working men that take care of their Mama and Dad. (Their step-dad, actually. They like him better than their own Dad.) I digress...
Son Three said there was ham left, most likely because it was large and more expensive than what many people have been grabbing. I told him to buy the ham and then check for dry navy beans. He immediately responded, “Ham and bean soup? Like Grandmom used to make? Great idea, Mom!’ I made a huge pot of soup using the recipe on the back of the bag of beans. Mom never had a recipe, she just tossed ingredients in and voila, dinner! I tweaked the recipe a bit here and there.
I watched my son dive into his bowl of soup with a smile on his face.”This reminds me of Grandmom. I love this soup!"
The boys no longer have their grandmother around, and it’s amazing to see how their memories have changed. What once was “yucky” soup is now a delicious meal that reminds them of a woman who loved them dearly. I wrote the recipe down and added it to our family recipe binder. With each recipe, I try to include a photo and a memory so we can continue to pass these moments along.
