Every corner diner worth its grease had a big pot of ham and bean soup simmering on a back burner ready for workers on a 20-minute lunch. Cookie called it “Noah’s Boy” (for his son, Ham).
The soup was more than a menu item. Into the pot went the hambone and other leftovers, a great way to eke value out of excess food.
That bone was critical. Our boneless society forgets how much flavor it added. The marrow would melt, creating a deeply rich but not fatty broth.
Although its ingredients changed daily, a good ham and bean soup had some constants. The broth was chicken based. The hambone was a shank. The beans always were navy. And the celery slices were cut thin and cooked to a transparent light green.
If you were lucky, or the cook was your friend, your bowl would arrive with a nice chunk of ham. This is why the soup was served with a large spoon and a fork.
On cold days, the simmering brew created mist on the diner’s windows. Its incredible aroma drew customers inside, knowing that for 35 cents, they’d enjoy a satisfying lunch that would “stick” until supper. Cornbread was 10 cents extra.
Every corner diner worth its grease had a big pot of ham and bean soup simmering on a back burner ready for workers on a 20-minute lunch. Cookie called it “Noah’s Boy” (for his son, Ham).
The soup was more than a menu item. Into the pot went the hambone and other leftovers, a great way to eke value out of excess food.
That bone was critical. Our boneless society forgets how much flavor it added. The marrow would melt, creating a deeply rich but not fatty broth.
Although its ingredients changed daily, a good ham and bean soup had some constants. The broth was chicken based. The hambone was a shank. The beans always were navy. And the celery slices were cut thin and cooked to a transparent light green.
If you were lucky, or the cook was your friend, your bowl would arrive with a nice chunk of ham. This is why the soup was served with a large spoon and a fork.
On cold days, the simmering brew created mist on the diner’s windows. Its incredible aroma drew customers inside, knowing that for 35 cents, they’d enjoy a satisfying lunch that would “stick” until supper. Cornbread was 10 cents extra.
