Cocktail Recipes, Spirits, and Local Bars

13 American Foods We Bet You’ll Never Find Anywhere Else on Earth

13 American Foods We Bet You’ll Never Find Anywhere Else on Earth

These regional American favorites don’t turn up on any international menus

Good luck finding Cincinatti chili in Madrid.

“American” food is having a bit of a moment abroad. Dishes that until recently could only be found, well, in America are now turning up on menus all around the world, and are being discovered by millions of new fans. But you can travel to every country and visit every restaurant that serves an American-inspired menu, and we bet that these 13 All-American dishes will never turn up.

13 American Foods We Bet You’ll Never Find Anywhere Else on Earth (Slideshow)

Visit a touristy part of any major city and you’ll find a restaurant or two that claims to be “American.” They tend to serve cheap, bizarro versions of the most basic American favorites, like burgers, hot dogs, and pizza, but no actual Americans would be caught dead in one of these establishments, let alone actually enjoying the insipid offerings. Thankfully, however, in recent years it’s become more and more common to find restaurants that serve classic American fare that’s just as good — if not better — than what you’ll find stateside. In London, for example, you’ll find legit barbecue, solid fried chicken, and more top-notch burger joints than you can count.

The trend may be spreading to more and more international restaurants, but some dishes are steadfastly sticking to their own American region, barely making their way out of the area where they originated. These are little-known dishes even in much of America, so don’t expect to see them turning up in a London fried chicken joint any time soon. These are dishes worth celebrating, and worth traveling for — whether it’s traveling from New York City or from Paris.


Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.

But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores dried and canned chiles are a common staple and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.

Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

—————
Would you like more Homesick Texan? Well, I’ve started offering additional recipes for paid subscribers to help with the costs of running the site. While I’m not taking anything away, if you’d like to support Homesick Texan and have access to exclusive, never-seen-before subscriber-only posts, please consider becoming a member annual subscriptions are as low as $25. Thank you for reading, your consideration, and your support!
—————


Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.

But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores dried and canned chiles are a common staple and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.

Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

—————
Would you like more Homesick Texan? Well, I’ve started offering additional recipes for paid subscribers to help with the costs of running the site. While I’m not taking anything away, if you’d like to support Homesick Texan and have access to exclusive, never-seen-before subscriber-only posts, please consider becoming a member annual subscriptions are as low as $25. Thank you for reading, your consideration, and your support!
—————


Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.

But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores dried and canned chiles are a common staple and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.

Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

—————
Would you like more Homesick Texan? Well, I’ve started offering additional recipes for paid subscribers to help with the costs of running the site. While I’m not taking anything away, if you’d like to support Homesick Texan and have access to exclusive, never-seen-before subscriber-only posts, please consider becoming a member annual subscriptions are as low as $25. Thank you for reading, your consideration, and your support!
—————


Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.

But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores dried and canned chiles are a common staple and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.

Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

—————
Would you like more Homesick Texan? Well, I’ve started offering additional recipes for paid subscribers to help with the costs of running the site. While I’m not taking anything away, if you’d like to support Homesick Texan and have access to exclusive, never-seen-before subscriber-only posts, please consider becoming a member annual subscriptions are as low as $25. Thank you for reading, your consideration, and your support!
—————


Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.

But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores dried and canned chiles are a common staple and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.

Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

—————
Would you like more Homesick Texan? Well, I’ve started offering additional recipes for paid subscribers to help with the costs of running the site. While I’m not taking anything away, if you’d like to support Homesick Texan and have access to exclusive, never-seen-before subscriber-only posts, please consider becoming a member annual subscriptions are as low as $25. Thank you for reading, your consideration, and your support!
—————


Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.

But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores dried and canned chiles are a common staple and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.

Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

—————
Would you like more Homesick Texan? Well, I’ve started offering additional recipes for paid subscribers to help with the costs of running the site. While I’m not taking anything away, if you’d like to support Homesick Texan and have access to exclusive, never-seen-before subscriber-only posts, please consider becoming a member annual subscriptions are as low as $25. Thank you for reading, your consideration, and your support!
—————


Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.

But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores dried and canned chiles are a common staple and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.

Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

—————
Would you like more Homesick Texan? Well, I’ve started offering additional recipes for paid subscribers to help with the costs of running the site. While I’m not taking anything away, if you’d like to support Homesick Texan and have access to exclusive, never-seen-before subscriber-only posts, please consider becoming a member annual subscriptions are as low as $25. Thank you for reading, your consideration, and your support!
—————


Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.

But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores dried and canned chiles are a common staple and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.

Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

—————
Would you like more Homesick Texan? Well, I’ve started offering additional recipes for paid subscribers to help with the costs of running the site. While I’m not taking anything away, if you’d like to support Homesick Texan and have access to exclusive, never-seen-before subscriber-only posts, please consider becoming a member annual subscriptions are as low as $25. Thank you for reading, your consideration, and your support!
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Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.

But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores dried and canned chiles are a common staple and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.

Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

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Would you like more Homesick Texan? Well, I’ve started offering additional recipes for paid subscribers to help with the costs of running the site. While I’m not taking anything away, if you’d like to support Homesick Texan and have access to exclusive, never-seen-before subscriber-only posts, please consider becoming a member annual subscriptions are as low as $25. Thank you for reading, your consideration, and your support!
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Ranch style beans recipe

Fifteen years ago, I was on my way to the Austin airport to catch a flight to New York City when the friend I’d be staying with called and said that we’d be attending a dance performance that evening in the East Village. Admission was free, she said, but the organizers requested a donation of two canned goods for a food pantry. So before walking out the door, I grabbed a couple of Ranch Style Beans as my offering.

Ranch Style Beans are a Texan staple and they’ve been satisfying people since 1872 with their take on classic chuck-wagon fare. It’s a distinctive flavor—the beans aren’t fiery but they do have a depth and brightness that can be very addictive. When I lived in Texas, we ate them often—either topped with cheese and rice, as a base to bean salad, alongside enchiladas or even in my mom’s King Ranch casserole.

But beyond the deliciousness and versatility of Ranch Style Beans, there’s the appeal of that iconic black can with its distinctive Western-style font and illustration of a man with his tongue sticking out stating the beans are Appetite Pleasin’. (Of course, the latter is a recent development for if you’re as old as I am, you remember when the beans were Husband Pleasin’.) I love that can and I’ve read that if Andy Warhol had been a Texan he would have painted Ranch Style Beans cans instead of Campbell’s Soup cans. I believe it.

In the 15 years since I’ve moved to New York City, I’ve seen this city become more hospitable to fellow homesick Texans. We now have a Texan-style barbecue joint selling Kreuz sausages and excellent brisket you can find Ro-Tel tomatoes at several grocery stores dried and canned chiles are a common staple and Austin-based Whole Foods is now here selling decent brands of tortillas, chips and salsas. But despite the advances this city’s made, there’s still one thing missing: my beloved Ranch Style Beans.

To help with the drought, every time I go home I load up on a few cans. And my mom has even been known to put them in my Christmas stocking, which is always a very welcome gift. But when I recently came to my last can with no trip home in my immediate future, I realized that I should just figure out how to make these beans on my own.

The recipe is a closely guarded secret, so I was flummoxed on what to do. And then I read one fan’s observation that Ranch Style Beans are simply pintos swimming in a chili gravy. At last, it all made sense! I decided I’d cook a pot of pintos in a chili gravy and see what happened. When making my chile gravy, I used the ingredient list on the back of my remaining can as my guide. Sure, there were some vague terms, such as “spices” and “natural flavor,” but the basic building blocks were in the open: tomatoes, chile peppers, paprika, vinager and beef fat. And of course, pinto beans.

Even though the can didn’t specify what type of chile, I went with anchos as they’re the base of your common chili powder. I rehydrated the anchos and then blended them with some tomatoes, vinegar, cumin and paprika. And instead of beef fat, I opted to use beef broth instead.

While the beans cooked, the house smelled gorgeous and the broth tasted right. But it wasn’t until after a few hours when I ladled out a bowl that I realized that this bowl of beans far exceeded my expectations. I threw in some sour cream, warmed up a flour tortilla and had a most satisfying meal. And even though it’s been 15 years since I gave away those beans, I’ve often wondered if the New Yorker who ended up with them enjoyed them. I hope that they did.

—————
Would you like more Homesick Texan? Well, I’ve started offering additional recipes for paid subscribers to help with the costs of running the site. While I’m not taking anything away, if you’d like to support Homesick Texan and have access to exclusive, never-seen-before subscriber-only posts, please consider becoming a member annual subscriptions are as low as $25. Thank you for reading, your consideration, and your support!
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