Add the kale, and cook for 1 to 2 minutes, until collapsed, then add the tomatoes and bring to a simmer. Add the wine, if using, to scrape up any stuck bits, then simmer until it disappears, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the garlic, and cook for 1 minute more. Cook, sautéing, until the vegetables brown lightly, about 10 minutes. Season well with salt and black or red pepper. In a 2 1/2-to-3-quart (ideally oven-safe) deep sauté pan, braiser, or shallow Dutch oven, heat the olive oil on medium-high. Prepare the beans and vegetables: Heat the oven to 475 degrees. “I do not like beans.” “You’re going to love these.” “I won’t eat them.” “You should try them! You’ll see! There’s tomato sauce, and look at all of that cheese on top… It’s just like pizza.” “Pizza beans!!” (Do I even need to tell you that this did the trick?)Īnd thus this is the story of how I showed up to a potluck with a dish tagged “Tomato-Braised Gigante Bean Gratin,” but there isn’t a person there who will remember them (fondly, I hope) as anything but “Pizza Beans.” Alas, it would be more accurate to say that I decided to make this dish you see here-a mash-up of a giant-beans-in-tomato-sauce dish from Greece and American-style baked ziti, with beans instead of noodles-because, well, it was really what I was in the mood to cook that day, and cravings trump rationality pretty much always around here, and especially when I am 6 months pregnant.īefore I left, I baked off a smaller amount for my husband and son for dinner, and my son - perhaps predictably for the then-kindergarten set - threw a fit. I’d like to pretend that it’s just because I’ve got an unshakable confidence in my cooking, or, at the least, kitchen, uh, “meatballs” of steel. This rule is probably doubly important if you’re invited to a potluck at a big-deal editor’s apartment with a dozen food writers you’re totally intimidated by, each of whom will arrive with his or her own signature dish. Not the rack of lamb you’ve been eyeing, not the soufflé or anything else that’s going to send you into a vibe-ruining tizzy. Most of us know the number one rule of cooking for a crowd: don’t make anything new or scary. Here’s the full story, excerpted from the book: This is one of my favorite recipes from the book, one that has been particularly hard to keep to myself (seriously, check out these two comments from 2014, when I first made it and brought it to a potluck and then couldn’t tell you about it yet, rather rude, I know.) I also get to share another video shot in my tiny kitchen by the very talented Ben Pliss.
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