Butter Bean Stew with Tasso

Butter beans taught me patience. You can't rush them. They need time to turn from hard little pebbles into something creamy and luxurious, absorbing all the smoky goodness from the tasso along the way. That's the bayou way.

My grandmother Evangeline made this stew every winter when the cold wind came off the water. She'd start it in the morning and let it bubble away while she went about her day. By supper, those beans had become something magical: tender enough to melt on your tongue but still holding their shape, swimming in a broth that tasted like someone had been cooking all week instead of all day.

The secret is the tasso. If you've never had it, tasso is pork shoulder that's been rubbed with spices, smoked until it's almost jerky-like, and packed with more flavor than any ham has a right to possess. A little goes a long way. The fat renders into the stew, the meat falls apart, and suddenly your humble beans taste like something you'd pay good money for at a restaurant. At Lagniappe, we serve this stew with crusty French bread for sopping up every last drop. Nobody leaves a clean bowl behind.