Once de Mayo

Today’s post is brought to you by the letter P. You may recognize it from such words as Parsley, Pecorino, and my favorite word of late, Procrastination.

Last weekend’s kitchen adventures were spent in the service of Cinco de Mayo with a chicken and hominy soup and a recipe for beans that took the better part of a day to make, but were worth every last stinkin’ second.

But by the time the fifth rolled around, I just couldn’t bring myself to post anything about it.

What’s that word again? Oh yeah, Procrastination.

Which brings us to today.

The aforementioned soup.

Looking for a quick lunch to tide us over, I foraged in the freezer and came up with some chicken stock and shredded cooked chicken which turned into the underpinnings of a rich, smoky soup. I’m relying on my sometimes-faulty memory here, but I’m pretty sure I cooked some onions, garlic, and celery down in a little olive oil before adding the chicken, stock, and a can of plum tomatoes, which I broke up with the back of the spoon. I blended together a small can of chipotle chilis in adobo and added a hefty dose of that to the pot along with some hominy and chopped cilantro, gave it a good stir, and let it simmer for about an hour. It’s entirely possible I added cumin and oregano as well, but I couldn’t swear to it in a court of law.

Served with lime wedges, it really took the edge off our hunger, but didn’t fill us up too much before our mega-mega bean-filled dinner.

Not anasazi beans. But I caught them just as the mothership was approaching and thought it was too important not to document.

The centerpiece of our dinner was Cassoulita, or braised anasazi beans. The recipe was long and involved; therefore, you will have to follow the link for it, because that procrastination thing? It was caused by my desire not to type out this recipe, even though my changes were so minor as to be almost not worth mentioning. But here I go, mentioning them! I substituted mostly dried chipotle chilis and some other mystery dried chili our friend Tom brought us from New Mexico, where they obviously know their stuff.

The person who wielded
that Sharpie did not lie. All the other Sharpie-wielders of New Mexico, I gots no opinion of.

So the beans were mildly spicy, is what I’m saying, but awfully good.

They were also not photogenic in any way, which is why they’re blurred out. Go, shallow depth of field!

The beans went great with our grilled chicken and asparagus that night, but were even better the next day, refried with a bit of bacon fat and converted to some hot burrito action.

No picture of the hot burrito action. It was a burrito. Use your imagination.

Since I didn’t have quite enough of that smoky chipotle flavor last week, I used more of the frozen adobo mixture in a chicken marinade for lunch today. I pounded a couple of skinless, boneless chicken breasts (I KNOW!) to about 1/3 of an inch and marinated them in a mixture of chipotle/adobo, ground cumin, lime juice, honey, olive oil, and salt. Thinking that pounding the breasts to within an inch of their lives would speed the cooking process and keep them moist turned out to be the correct assumption. For once. I topped them with an avocado-lime-sour cream sauce, and Gil actually complimented me on the meal, so I had to pat myself on the back.

Now, have I mentioned how much I love grilled asparagus?

I make it All The Time…

because it is delicious…

and let us not forget healthy…

but mostly delicious, if repetitive.

Even Rufus agreed.


  1. ruuuufuuuuuusssssssss
    i love that dog
    he has a classy look
    of course i’m sure you’re ruining him
    gonna be so so spoiled…

    that soup? i want that soup.
    it all looks wonderful…
    but that first pic stopped me
    and i stared

  2. Hee. It’s funny — Gil’s Mr. Unconditional Love. I’m the disciplinarian.

    But yes, he’s quite spoiled. 🙂

  3. Amy:

    Beans, we don’t need no steenkeen beans! Oh, wait a minute, yes we do, especially if they’re made by you or Claudia.

    Does Rufus like those two hand cranial doggie massages?

  4. Hi Demo — Rufus loves those, but he’s such an affection-whore, he really doesn’t discriminate among massages.