Every Saturday for many years we would set out on Adventures. While some folks would have simply labeled these outings as running errands….they were much more than that to us. “It’s all in the attitude,” she would tell us. Mom was an avid reader with an active imagination. She had a pen in her hand most always, planning her next move. Even when her body was too tired to participate fully, she was the greatest cheerleader to her kids and grandkids as they set out on trips and adventures of their own.
On the particular Saturday that inspired this post….our mission was to find a good old fashioned baked bean pot. Growing up in New England every pot luck dinner or back yard cookout had a big pot of homemade Boston Baked Beans. And that was my mom’s signature recipe. Over the years in an effort to simplify her life she passed down or let go of many things, her bean pot being one of them. So when I was ready for her to teach me this family recipe…..well, let’s just say an adventure ensued. “Today we shall find a bean pot and it will be a good day.” Ha! Thrift stores, antique markets, yard sales, and at least a hundred miles later….success. There she sat on a cluttered flea market table (the bean pot, not mom), nestled up to a wooden tobacco pipe rack, and nearly hidden by a rusted handsaw; striped with the unmistakable shades of brown and ivory reserved for bean pots and french onion soup crocks. We passed her back and forth, inspecting for cracks, scraping away molasses stains, all the while grinning from ear to ear. She was perfect and it WAS a good day.
Now on to this fantastic family recipe… Boston Baked Beans.
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