Farmer Gary and I don’t usually make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s just four days after February 10, the anniversary of the day we met. That’s our holiday.

Still, I wanted to make something special to warm Gary’s innards, as he’d been outside shoveling soybeans yesterday. Something that says “I love you madly,” but in a bowl.

Bean soup it was.

As Lent approaches, Gary and I swap “giving up” stories from our youth. Although Gary went to public school in the nearby town of St. Meinrad, nearly all of the teachers were nuns. The entire student body went to Mass every morning. He remembers no-meat Fridays and the confusion over the grade-school cafeteria serving up Pork & Beans on a Friday in Lent.

“One of the kids asked Sister about the ‘pork’ in our Pork & Beans,” he remembers. “She just said to spit it out and leave it on your plate.”

We still can’t figure out how spitting out bits of ham would coexist peacefully with the “don’t waste food” rule. Or the more existential thought that the essence of pork remained, in every mouthful.

Regardless, Bean Soup was a treat during Lent. Gary’s mom, Rita, made huge batches in her pressure cooker. It was delicious.

When Gary asked her for the recipe, so I could make it at home, she dictated: “Oh, you know … beans, onion, water, potatoes, salt, pepper …”

If you’ve read this blog much at all, you know I’m a recipe person. The descriptive phrase “to taste” makes my blood run cold. I need exact measurements and instructions.

But here we are.

Over the years, I’ve tried at least a dozen different online recipes for Bean Soup. Gary has appreciated each effort, but when I’ve asked if it’s like the soup of his youth, the answer is always the same: Not quite.

Gary is the most decent person I know. Never once has he played the comparison game between mother and wife. Or son and son. He appreciates the effort and enjoys the soup.

But still, with Rita – and her recipe – gone nearly two decades, it’s worth the effort a few times a year to try and capture the flavors he remembers. (For the record, I’d never tasted Bean Soup until Gary and I started dating.)

And so, on Valentine’s Day, I pulled out our slow cooker and got to work.

As I write this, it’s February 15. The soup is still cooking. Slowly. I have a feeling my husband dreamed about his soup last night as the aroma wafted through the entire house.

Just because the soup wasn’t quite ready on Valentine’s Day doesn’t mean Gary didn’t get a gift from an admirer yesterday. Our darling outdoor cat, Yow-Yow Kitty, left a … um, harvested … chipmunk on our doorstep for him.

Although we’ve already told you about Yow-Yow Kitty, you’ve yet to hear his beautiful “yow.” Here is our tuxedoed friend, asking if Gary can come out to play:

Before I forget which ingredients went into the slow cooker yesterday, here’s the list:

Gary’s Best Bean Soup

16 oz. Navy Beans, right out of the bag
4 cups Bone Broth
3 cups Water
4 ounces Ham, sliced into smallish pieces
1 White Onion, chopped and sauteed in 1 Tablespoon butter
2 hearty glugs of Worcestershire sauce
Seasonings to taste (I used about 2 Tablespoons of Lovely Seasoning, a spice mix developed by Irish Chef Stuart O’Keeffe, my way of slipping in a bit o’ my heritage)
5 Potatoes, in skin, cut into small pieces

The only instructions are to rinse the beans and pick out anything that you wouldn’t want to put in your mouth. Set the slow cooker to Low. Start with the liquids and beans. Add the other ingredients in the next few hours as you have time to prep them. Since the beans need a really long time to cook – and Farmer Gary prefers them to be mushy – I adjusted the original setting to 9 hours and at bedtime added another 12. Two more cups of water then, too, as the beans were swelling at last. If you’d like a thicker soup, use an immersion blender toward the end. (I took photos of this last “immersion” step, but the process looked too disgusting to post here.)

Here’s a pre-immersion look:

Gary hungrily circles the slow cooker the same way The Old Man did with the Christmas turkey in A Christmas Story. “You’ll get worms!” I holler. “Oh, and you’ll shoot your eye out!” for good measure. (RIP Melinda Dillon, Ralphie’s beloved mom, who passed away recently.)

Gary couldn’t resist sneaking a taste this morning when I wasn’t in the room. The sublime torture of smelling his bean soup simmering all night long got the best of him.

A bit later, I came upon a note he’d written to me, declaring “You winned” (I don’t remember which of our boys coined the adorable “you winned” phrase, but it stuck).

Although it was never a contest, Gary wanted me to know – in writing – that he’d just slurped the best spoonful of Bean Soup he’d ever tasted.

I know Gary will savor his soup, no doubt even for breakfast tomorrow. Every drop, though, will be gone before next Wednesday, the start of Lent. After all, we had enough confusion as kids – and I know he would consider it a mortal sin to throw out even the tiniest piece of ham, even to his buddy, our well-dressed outside cat.

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