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Created by Chef Remy
Tender lima beans slow-simmered in smoky bacon drippings with the holy trinity, finished with a swirl of cream and butter until they're so silky you'll want to eat the whole pot with a spoon
Lima beans don't get the respect they deserve. Folks think of those gray, mealy things from school cafeterias and they turn away. That's a shame, because a properly cooked lima bean is one of the finest things you can put on a plate. Creamy, buttery, with a sweetness that plays beautifully against smoky pork and Cajun spices.
My grandmother Evangeline made these every summer when the limas came in fresh from the garden. She'd shell them on the back porch, a whole bucket of pods at her feet, and by suppertime the kitchen smelled like heaven itself. Bacon fat, onions going soft, and those beautiful pale green beans swimming in a pot of seasoned stock. Simple food. Honest food. The kind that feeds your soul as much as your belly.
The secret is patience. You can't rush lima beans. They need time to break down, to release their starch into the cooking liquid, to become that thick, creamy consistency that coats every bite. Start with good bacon, build your flavor in layers, and let the pot do its work. When those beans turn soft enough to crush against the roof of your mouth, you've done it right.
Quantity
6 strips
cut into 1/2-inch pieces
Quantity
1 medium
diced
Quantity
2
diced
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| thick-cut baconcut into 1/2-inch pieces | 6 strips |
| yellow oniondiced | 1 medium |
| celery stalksdiced | 2 |
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