Boston baked beans
I know a guy who’s Bostonian-adjacent, so it’s okay.
Just like a fine Orange County vodka, once you open your navy beans, you need to use the rest as soon as possible or they’ll go bad. Since I don’t want even Wal-Mart beans to go to waste, here we are again. Yet, I am dissatisfied with the caliber of these beans for the purpose of reviewing navy beans themselves. So instead, I’m going to do my best to elevate these plebian beans. Enter: sugar!
These aren’t going to be mushy beans lying in a pool of sugary-watered-tomato paste. At least, I hope not—especially since I have no tomatoes (they’re wildly out-of-season). I’m satisfied with the availability of the ingredients we’re going to need here, and though I won’t give away my sources for authentic Boston baked beans recipes, I will say that everything I’m working with feels high-quality and authentic. …except for the beans themselves.
0.25 cups (50 g) of sugar
1 teaspoon (5 g) of ground mustard
1 teaspoon (7 g) of iodized salt
0.5 teaspoons (1 g) of ground cloves
0.5 teaspoons (1 g) of ground black pepper
1 lb (454 g) of Great Value navy beans
2 cups (4.732 dL) of water
0.76 lbs (345 g) of bacon
1 large onion, chunked
0.5 cups (96 g) of muscovado
0.5 cups (169 g) of molasses
First we soaked our Wal-Mart beans in salted water (1 tablespoon of sea salt per quart of water, or 18 g per 946 mL) overnight, roughly 575 minutes. I rinsed the beans in cold water and then dumped everything together in an oven-safe thing before giving it all a good mix. Into my oven it went, pre-heated to 250 °F (121.11 °C), for twelve hours and 59 minutes. I actually wanted 13 hours, but my oven timer just wasn’t having it.
We occasionally cracked everything open and stirred it all up to submerge the Maillarded bits and make new ones. Eleven-something hours later, my home just smelled like baked beans; I’d expected some sort of wondrous, fog-like richness to the air, but the kitchen just smelled rather like good baked beans. Yet, we aren’t here to review kitchen odour…
Review
Compared to the before photos, my Boston baked beans came out extremely uniform in their dark-brownness. It’s no matter—I’m am American: I was born to eat uniformly brown food.
Given the pH of our molasses, I expected the beans themselves to hold up well to our half-day of baking, but of our three solid ingredients, I was surprised that only the beans held up. My bacon and onions vaguely maintained their shapes while only having the body of Jell-O. No biggie. I’m sure it’s all to be expected; I was just surprised.
Speaking of consistency, these beans are about as far from canned mush as you can get. Not only did the beans hold up like champs, but the whole concoction has a viscosity that can hold upright any utensil you please. Out of the oven, a serving spoon needed to be heavy-handed for scooping; after refrigeration, you’ll need a carving knife to dole out leftovers. It’s a wonderful thickness, and I couldn’t be happier with them. Boston viscosity: A+
Obviously, the beans hold up well in the mouth, being just the right amount of chewy. The flavor though, surprised me in its stereotypicality. At first blush, I wanted to say, “I’ve tasted these beans before. What the hell?” However, once they cooled enough, and especially on reheating & eating leftover servings, there’s a truth to the flavors that shines through. Yes, the flavor profile is similar to mass-produced BBBs you’ve had before (still not a flavor to complain about), but in reflection, those productions had very superficial tones that I’d wager are the result of inferior, counterfeit, or even dissimilar ingredients that are trying to emulate the real thing. Don’t eat these quickly: serve yourself small amounts and savor them. To do otherwise would be an injustice.
I’ve tried to make the best Boston baked beans I can, otherwise it’s not a fair review. Yet, can I be objective about the fruits of my own labor? Until such time as I care enough to consider this, here’s what you’re getting: they’re great. The combination of sweet and savory ingredients make the beans themselves just a conveyance for carbs and flavor, which is metaphorically bittersweet, but well worth it. 4.5/5 stars, with a small demerit for needing 13 hours to do right. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some leftover pizza that needs some extra baked beans.
