I have a friend whose favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. She hosts a feast for family and friends, and cooks the meat; guests provide everything else. Her response to the classic “What can I bring?” is “Whatever says Thanksgiving to you.” One of these years, I hope to get there. When I do, I’ll make succotash.
At its simplest, succotash stars corn and lima beans, with butter, salt and pepper in supporting roles. There are fancier versions, too, but whatever the recipe, it appears that succotash joins fruitcake in the category “holiday-related foods that people either like or despise.” Are the limas the villain?
I have always eaten succotash, but I’ve never been crazy about limas. It was probably the name that first appealed. We eat first with our eyes, it’s often said. We also feel the texture of food first as a word in our mouths.
Succotash. It’s a fun word to say, the hard quick K sound at the turn in the first two syllables, where the tongue does most of the work; the long aashhhh at the end of the third, where the jaw drops and returns a little, the mouth opens wide and then narrows in a forward motion, as if it’s closing around a forkful of something good.
I was probably also intrigued by its American Indian origins, and fancifully imagined Indians bringing succotash to the first Thanksgiving, in wooden serving bowls they carved from the leftovers of their hollowed-log canoes. In fact, succotash probably wasn’t on the menu at the first Thanksgiving. But Algonquin Indians did give us the word. According to etymology sources, it made its way into English around 1750 from the Narragansett word msickquatash, meaning “boiled whole kernels of corn.”
In The Victory Garden Cookbook, however, Marian Morash says, “The original succotash, developed by early colonists, was a hearty chicken and corned beef stew containing potatoes, turnips, and whatever dried or fresh corn and beans were available.” Her recipe calls for those five essential ingredients, plus bacon or salt pork.
If I can’t be sure about the dish’s history, I can hold onto certainty about what limas have going for them beyond taste. They’re good sources of fiber, protein, and assorted vitamins and minerals; they help in lowering cholesterol.
In an informal, statistically insignificant “What do you think of succotash?” poll I conducted on social media, many respondents quoted Daffy Duck’s exclamation “Sufferin’ succotash” in documenting their own suffering, being forced to eat succotash as children. But might it be the succotash that suffers, sitting there overlooked on the table, like the kid who dreads getting chosen last for the dodgeball team — every bit as athletic as some of the others, but nowhere near as popular.
Succotash makes a cameo appearance in the poem “The Veggie Life, ” in which Michael Steffen considers the etymology of the word “vegetable, ” the genealogy of potatoes, and the suffering of another green vegetable.
The Veggie Life
Cabbages, beans and bell peppers vie
for the glossy centerfold of Nature’s Hand
where this month the vulgar Hubbard squash
reclines with succotash of questionable origin.
I’ve grown to prize passivity; I’ve learned the word
“vegetable” comes from Medieval Latin—
vegetabilis, and vegetare which means “to animate, to grow, ”
though I can think of half a dozen ways to squander
an afternoon as Destry Rides Again, Dietrich and Stewart…
and my doctor friend Lenny who calls to tell me
that broccoli has a nervous system, that it suffers
when you pick it. If form follows function,
it stands to reason that pain is the fate of all “brainy” things—
cauliflower, coral and raspberry clumps, the florets that sizzle
in my spiced tahini. I’ve heard potatoes
described as “thuggy and plotless, ” but never “aristocratic”
as it says on page seven’s “The Stately Spud, ”
where tubers possess an enviable pedigree,
popular back to 4000 b.c. when Incas made urns
in the shape of russets—
long reds, round reds and Yukon Golds,
best for sautéing, excellent in frittatas.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for ambition,
but some days I’d rather steep in my own kettle.
Give me chamomile, cowboys, cornelian cherries.
Let me sink, once again, into purposeless sleep.
— Michael Steffen
How to Make Succotash
Classic Succotash
INGREDIENTS
1 bag frozen (not canned) sweet corn plus the remains of that partial bag in the back of the freezer
1 bag frozen (not canned) baby (not Fordhook) lima beans
2 tablespoons butter
salt and pepper to taste
DIRECTIONS
Put corn, limas and butter in a saucepan with not quite enough water to cover everything.
Heat to boiling, then lower heat, add a little salt and pepper, and simmer for a while, stirring periodically.
Serve, if possible, in a bowl handed down through the family.
Second-Day Succotash
INGREDIENTS
leftover succotash
half an onion
an equal proportion of roasted red pepper
a Roma tomato or another small tomato, or, if you’re patient with chopping, an equivalent volume of cherry or grape tomatoes
olive oil
DIRECTIONS
Chop the onion, pepper and tomato. Saute in olive oil. Add succotash. Stir until sizzling hot.
Photo by Kevin Dooely, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Laura Lynn Brown. Poem used with permission of the author.
Read more Eating and Drinking Poems
Read more Thanksgiving Poems
__________________________
How to Read a Poem uses images like the mouse, the hive, the switch (from the Billy Collins poem)—to guide readers into new ways of understanding poems. Anthology included.
“I require all our incoming poetry students—in the MFA I direct—to buy and read this book.”
—Jeanetta Calhoun Mish
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Sandra Heska King says
“some days I’d rather steep in my own kettle.”
I love succotash. And lima beans are my husband’s favorite veggie. However, he prefers the canned… probably how his mom served them. I love serving foods in the dishes she handed down.
Laura Lynn Brown says
I think that’s the first time I’ve heard of limas as someone’s fave. Maybe I should amend the recipe to “frozen, unless you really prefer canned.” It seems there are a lot of people who won’t eat limas in any form because they had to eat canned limas when they were kids.
SimplyDarlene says
was red pepper once
dented black on half? was corn
lifted from chowder
gone bad? repurposed veggies –
succotash (and goulash)
clean out the fridge meals.
if i grimace, pass
along laden bowls, excuse
my child memories.
Laura Lynn Brown says
Love it.
Are all -ash foods concocted of leftovers? Are there any other -ash foods?
Sandra Heska King says
Found one. It uses leftover flour…
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/lavash-recipe.html
Laura Lynn Brown says
Lavash! Cool. Also hash. And, arguably, calipash.
Sandra Heska King says
I’ll pash on the calipash, thank you. 😉
Bethany R. says
“But might it be the succotash that suffers…” I appreciate your empathy, Laura. It’s about time someone stuck up for succotash.
Rick Maxson says
Thank you for this Laura. Succotash is one of my favorite veggies. I prefer the baby limas, but I do love big limas too and particularly “butter beans.”
Laura Lynn Brown says
Again, I should amend the recipe for those who prefer the bigger limas or who happen to have those in the freezer or pantry.
Monica Sharman says
Less popular, athletic foods? I like the idea. 🙂
When I imagine Daffy speaking, I hear “thufferin’ thuccotash.”
Laura Lynn Brown says
Indeed. And Sylvester the Cat said it before Daffy, I believe. I also learned, though I did not put it in my piece, that that phrase originated in Victorian times. “In the mid-1800s, during the Victorian era, there was a rejection of all profanity and so the common people developed a wide variety of malapropisms …”
Rick Maxson says
Suffering With Succotash
It is the way of payback,
the distant nomenclature
for parts: the rare burlesque
of a New York Strip, or cute
loin, nasally enunciated
as you unfurl the pressed roll
of a white lap napkin, your suit
comparably cut and pieced.
It is their nature to scratch
at the bark, and so it falls
along the walls of veins,
the white coat explains,
ears draped around his neck,
the pen silently tracing
the map of your heart.
So it’s kale and romaine,
if you want to live. You
recall the Terminator’s
titanium hand outstretched,
the surprised Sarah Conner
succumbing to fear and trust.
Take heart, no pun intended,
he says. A plethora of delicious
sobriquetical cuisine awaits you:
Ratatouille, Caprese, Chapathi,
and there is always succotash.
L.L. Barkat says
Oh, dear Rick! This made me smile (although I was a little sorrowful for the poetic goodbye to tenderloins). As a famous girl once said, “Vegetarians eat more than lettuce.” http://30dayfoodblog.com/
Rick Maxson says
Chef Sonia’s website does offer visible solace to the furloughed beefeater.
How I was tempted to use the line: from forth the fatal loins of these tornadoes” but nothing worthwhile came after, so I succumbed to succotash and stayed on theme. 🙂
Laura Lynn Brown says
Are there possibilities in “from forth the fatal loins of these tomatoes”?
Rick Maxson says
Ha!
So much depends
upon
the red to
matoes
glazed with ol
live oil
beside the chopped
basil
Laura Lynn Brown says
Love it.