Late night beans

So last Saturday night I came home quite late and was greeted by an already passed out (as in asleep) boyfriend. I had been anti-socially working late and he had been at a yeast centric cookout, by which I mean it was attended mainly by yeast geneticists. Anyways, I was quite hungry and we didn't have much food, but I russled up cans of beans and diced tomatoes. I sauteed some onions and garlic and dumped in the beans. I was going to add the diced tomatoes and some chopped cilantro and call it dinner. However, to my chagrin, the can labeled diced tomatoes actually contained tomato sauce! A curse upon your house, Muir Glenn Organics. Well, what was I to do? It was late and I really had nothing else going for me, so I dumped in the unwelcomed tomato sauce, let it simmer, and tried a little. It was really not what I was going for. But then I remembered ... I had chicken stock!

Having an open carton of Pacific valley organic chicken stock is a really wonderful piece of refrigerator insurance. Whenever things are going wrong, or just don't seem quite right, adding that stock usually helps. I'm reading this wonderful book right now called "A Taste of Country Cooking" by Edna Lewis. It's really a gem of a book. Edna Lewis grew up in a small farming community in Orange county, Virginia, in the early part of this century. She writes with  beautiful nostalgia about how her community's way of life was centered around the earth and the kitchen. One of her many wise recollections is that when there was a Virginia ham in the smokehouse, one could face any culinary challenge with confidence. I don't have a smokehouse, and if I did I doubt I could find a Virginia ham here in Berkeley, but I guess I sort of feel that way about my carton of stock. It makes so much possible. So I added a good amount of stock to my bean concoction and let it simmer a while. Then I stirred in the cilantro, put it in a bowl, and had it topped with feta cheese. It was very satisfying, if not what I had envisioned when I set out. After doing a few dishes I crawled into bed with a full stomach, and Oliver mumbled something about "have you been cooking?" I guess it smelled good, too.