Senate bean soup.
Being an antipodean, I had no idea such a soup existed, though the idea of pork and beans has frequently punctuated my life. After reading the recipe and the story behind it, in the NY Times, I felt a call to action. The whisper of several powerful forces. . . Winter, pork, memory, simplicity. . .
I used my mum’s old slow cooker. An old Tiger brand thermal cooker from the 1990’s. A pot within an insulated pot. . . I used the inner chamber to heat and cook all the ingredients (400g dried navy beans, 3 carrots, 2 potatoes, 2 ham hocks, a onion, five garlic, half a tablespoon of paprika, a large pinch thyme, pepper, salt, a knob of butter and 2L of water) and then left it overnight. After an 8 hour sleep the soup was still steaming and 65 degrees C. At this point mash the potatoes and a small portion of beans, stir into the soup; break up the pork meat and remove the bones and skin. The soup will gleam with goodness and connective collagen. . .
As I pulled the meat from the bones and rubbed the softened ligaments and tendons into the soup, I thought about glue and connective tissue. . . The interstitial layer. . . That mysterious and ignored gap or space between the named and solid organs and muscles. The solid, graspable, dissectible parts have all been labelled and named, and yet nothing works without the interstitium. We only think about the spaces in between when they are dysfunctional – burdened with too much fat, fluid, fibrosis or mis-folded proteins (as in the cause of amyloidosis).
Our days are mostly interstitial. Filled with spaces between meals and work and named activities. It is a place of contemplation, for refining ideas and daydreaming about the connections between bean soup collagen and time. Sadly much our interstitial time is being filled with screens and notifications. Will this encroachment create its own form of pathology?
It would be more tenuous to say that wine has connective tissue. . . and yet, isn’t this what we look for? Wines with flow and pace, ease, something that is playful and supple and long, complex and yet jointed and graceful. Perhaps I’m conflating the adjectives and connective tissue of a tasting note with the qualities of a wine, but more and more this is what I’m seeking. The in between. The gaps. I want more than meat and bones, I want a drink that has spaces for unforced contemplation.
2024 Elanto Balnarring Chardonnay. Peach and marzipan, a flinty nose mixed with pollen and a freshly washed woollen jumper. There’s a suggestion of bristle, but mostly this is rounded, hefty. It feels a little too stuffed and heavy. Perhaps it’s the oak, maybe it’s the taster. . .
2024 Elanto Balnarring Pinot noir. Mornington Peninsula. I can see the charm, but I wanted something softer and more perfumed. Something loose and ethereal, a wimpy wine? This is suave and unified, stylish but again hefty; assertiveness with a metal edge.
