I hate 3 bean salad.
You know the dish. That soggy, cloying concoction of tired ingredients wallowing in pools of harsh vinegar. Jaundiced wax beans and red ones the color of organ meat. Bleh. It’s the fruitcake of the potluck, the ubiquitous picnic guest.
Thank god my parents weren’t as impassioned about three bean salad as they were about mashed potatoes (a dish I’ll have to revisit here sometime, because even now I gag on it), or I’d still be sitting at that splintered table while a whole new generation of kids went diving into the pool.
(How about you? Which foods earned you a throne at the midnight table?)
So today I’ve set out to redeem the dish, mostly by overhauling it. I started by eliminating the things that my seven-year-old self just couldn’t stomach. Back then, it just looked like punishment on a plate; my grown-up palate, a bit more discerning, points at the sugar-exacerbated cider vinegar, for starters. Not to mention the mushy, mealy, sodiumized beans and the onion flavor like a punch in the mouth.
The Recipe
Instead I’ve gone with balsamic vinegar, which is softer and sweet enough by itself to cancel the need to add sweetener. In fact, this version is all about softness. I’ve replaced the pungent seasonings with spring onion, spring garlic, and garlic chives. These delicacies, available during an already-closing seasonal window, contribute a gentle, balanced allium flavor without making people avoid you for days after.
In lieu of the traditional hodgepodge of dried and miscellaneous Italian seasoning, I went mono-herbalistic: French Tarragon (and make sure it’s French and not Russian or Mexican). Though it has a striking flavor, French tarragon is incredibly versatile, pairing well with almost any salad dressing, as well as with most veggies, particularly asparagus, fresh beans and leafy greens like spinach and chard. Plus, I’ve never met a fish-tarragon combo that I didn’t like.
Tarragon is often described as having a “licorice” flavor, but that’s wrong. The flavor is distinctively singular – aromatic, piney, a bit acidic and earthy. Though it will thrive all summer, like so many garden things, it’s perfect right now, so snip away.
In the name of not blowing all my heirloom beans in one recipe, this multi-bean dish sports just one rare legume. The Vermont cranberry is, I suppose technically a kidney type bean, but when cooked it turns a very polite pink. There are many varieties of heirloom cranberry beans; this one, from Seed Saver’s Exchange, originated in New England and has been around since before the 1870s. Tastewise, it has a sweeter, milder flavor than many beans.
Finally, I threw in some fresh green beans and fresh peppers, for crunch. Neither is yet available from my garden, nor anywhere locally, so I did the next best thing and bought organic.
So here’s wishing you perfect picnic weather and perfectly edible dishes at your potluck! Happy Solstice (almost) and Happy Full Moon (just barely waning today). Get out there and howl at the moon in this cusp-of-the-season moment!
Three Bean Salad with Vermont Cranberry Beans and Tarragon
½ cup citrusy extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup balsamic vinegar
¼ cup course grain mustard
3 tablespoons chopped fresh French tarragon
1 spring onion – the white bulb and the chives
1 bulb spring garlic
2 small garlic chives, chopped
¼ teaspoon salt
2 cups cooked Vermont cranberry beans (you may substitute any red bean)
1 cup cooked garbanzo beans (aka chickpeas)
2 cups organic fresh green beans, ends snapped and beans cut into thirds and then steamed (see below)
1 sweet red Italian pepper, or several small sweet peppers, sliced thinly
In a bowl, whisk together the olive oil, and vinegar. Add the tarragon, onion and garlic bulbs, the chives and the salt. Whisk or shake to combine.
In a large bowl combine the cranberry beans, garbanzos, fresh steamed green beans and the peppers. Pour the vinegar-mustard-tarragon dressing over beans and stir well to coat. Chill and serve cold.
Enjoy, and then don’t miss the after-lunch swim. And remember, it’s a myth that you have to wait an hour after eating before you jump in the pool!
Tips:
To preserve freshness, texture and nutrition, lightly steam the fresh green beans instead of blanching them. If you don’t have a steamer, fill the bottom of a pot with water and place a small metal colander inside, keeping it just above the water. Bring water to a boil, then add cut beans to colander and let steam for five minutes. Remove from steam and immediately run under cold water to prevent further softening.
Cranberry beans have a sweeter, richer flavor than a lot of beans, but beware: I overcooked my first batch and they lost that sweetness and became bland, starchy and crumbly, so keep an eye on them while they boil.
To get the most flavor from your French tarragon, first chop the leaves into small pieces with scissors. Then place them in a mortar and pestle and lightly bruise the leaves to release flavor and aroma.
The stone ground mustard is the only sharp flavor in this dish, so adjust the amount to your preference. Because I preferred a milder dish, I used not quite ¼ of a cup, but you can use as much as 1/3 of a cup if you like it a bit stronger.
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Edward helps herself to my garlic chives. She (hey, it happens. She looked like a he when we got her) loves to help in the kitchen. |
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Tags: spring garlic, three bean salad, vermont cranberry bean
What got me stuck at the dinner table? Broccoli swimming in Velveeta. Never could handle the stuff. I was destined to grow up to be a food snob.
Peas. Peas, peas, peas. Still hate ‘em. Couldn’t try the minted pea soup, sorry. Peas. Bleh!
Aw, really? I love broccoli and Velveeta. It says childhood with all the fondness that three bean salad doesn’t. Do I need to work harder on food snobbiness then?
I will vote for that jello stuff with the fake/canned fruit pieces suspended in it at picnics. Or that light mint green looking pudding stuff with floating bits of who knows what. Does anyone remember these? I gag just thinking of the way that jello squished in my mouth. I think I only tried it once and I still can’t do jello shots b/c of the memory!
Ew, yeah. That might win the award for the Food that Wouldn’t Die. You’re right, too about the texture, Jill. Food is as much about consistency as it is flavor, and whoever thought the texture of that stuff was a good idea knew bugger all!
edward…. the girl kitty
too cute
as usual the recipe sounds fresh and full of wonderful flavors. i am a big tarragon fan….
Well, I never got stuck at the dinner table, because my parents didn’t make me eat stuff. Otherwise I would have spend my entire childhood there, because I was very picky.
I hate three-bean salad too. Your saying that gives me courage: I think I’ll try this one.
Lard & other cold, old scrapings from the bottom-of-the-roaster made into sandwiches we took to school. Puke. Couldn’t even swallow it. I recall the girl sitting next to me, a kind person, who said that she couldn’t swallow horrible-tasting things, either. This was about 1961. The students from a really large family had plain, purified lard on their sandwiches!
I appreciate your attempt to change the standard 3-bean salad, which never tasted like anything except slugging vinegar straight from the bottle…can’t afford the tarragon and the balsamic, though. Sounds fabulous.