bean there, done that

Getting names right is important.

For millennia, philosophers and their lesser kin, writers, have wrestled with the concept of true names. Whether language (especially the language of naming things) is a system of arbitrary signs or whether those words have an intrinsic relation to the things they signify.

Homer gives us the classic example when Odysseus lies about his name to the Cyclops, setting up one of classic literature's great puns. Odysseus then allows his pride to override his good sense, and discloses his true name. That is unfortunate for him and fortunate for us. He gets himself into a lot of trouble, and we have the pleasure of watching him make it safely home to the virtuous Penelope.

I imagined Odysseus sticking his sharpened stake into Polyphemus's eye this afternoon. I have spent too much time waiting for my concept book to arrive before I test drive my Instant Pot.

That, of course, is just an excuse. There is no real reason for me not to just whip up a pot of beans using its pressure mode.

I always have a couple bags of dried beans at the ready. In the past, I have also had a pot of cooked beans in the refrigerator. I need to revive that habit. Beans are a cook's utility player.

And so I thought I would. Cook up a bag of beans.  I pulled a back out of the refrigerator, but realized I needed a piece of pork to cook along with them. There was some bacon in the refrigerator. That would usually suffice, but I wanted a more substantial piece of piggy. Perhaps a piece of rump.

So, I headed off to El Tunco #2. My butcher always has good suggestions. And he did today, as well.

But a pile of freshly-sliced bola tempted me. Up north, it would be the same meat as a tip roast. When cut thin like this and cooked quickly, it is one of the tenderest beef cuts available in Mexico. I use it for stir-fry and French-dip sandwiches (when I was eating bread).

The beef trumped the pork. And, though it is possible to flavor beans with pieces of beef, it is not my favorite. Looking at the bola in the case gave me an entirely different idea.

I was going to make carne con chili rojo.

And, no, I did not get that wrong. I was not making chili con carne -- the dish I once thought was quintessentially Mexican, but is not. Well, sorta not.

Chili con carne is about as Tex-Mex as a food can be. The origin of dishes is always difficult -- as we discovered in whipping up dreams with fajitas.

The dish we know as chili con carne has Mexican roots, but it is almost as unknown here as a chili burger -- a Los Angeles invention -- is in Mississippi. Initially, chili con carne appears to have been a working-class meal amongst Mexicans in southern Texas and northern Mexico. Even though the connection is not certain, its roots seem to be related to a dish made by every Mexican grandmother -- carne con chili rojo, meat with chili.

The classic dish is made with braised chunks of meat stewed in a spicy chili sauce. Like most foods for home kitchens, it is simple and tasty.

But I was not interested in a classic dish. I have eaten it several times in restaurants. What I wanted was something new.

My plan was to cook each step in the Instant Pot. I could brown the beef using the sauté setting, remove the beef and prepare the chili salsa. Once that was done, I could return the beef to the pot, and pressure cook the whole thing.

But I ran into a problem. The beef is far too thin to go through that process. It cooks in about 15 seconds on a grill. It certainly does not need pressure cooker treatment.

Then, there was the salsa. Because I like experimenting with my sauces, I need to plan out how to layer my flavors as I add them. If the salsa is in the pressure cooker, I cannot adjust the flavors during the cooking process.

The pressure cooker function on the Instant Pot may have a possibility as the home of a good boeuf bourguignon, but that will be another day.

As for my carne con chili rojo, it turned out perfectly. My salsa included grilled tomatoes, garlic, and chilis (serranos and habaneros) along with onion, homemade hoisin sauce, rice vinegar, and wasabi. Cooked in a wok. I told you I like fusion dishes.

I also scored on some young asparagus. To keep my fusion theme going, I decided to try one of my favorite green bean combinations. Ginger. Garlic. Blistering. Soy sauce. After all, almost anything a cook can do with green beans, he can do with asparagus. They turned out just as good as the meat. And were a great complementary companion.

Omar and my friend Ozzie are blessings when it comes to food. Most of their friends have no interest in new foods. If it does not fit in a tortilla, they will pass.

Omar and Ozzie like Mexican food. It is what they have eaten all of their lives. But they are  also perfectly placed to be my best food critics.

They gave my Asian version of this Mexican classic, a thumbs up.

In this case, no matter what its name is, it was a success.

Now, for those beans --