The regional table / Wyoming
Dutch-Oven Chuckwagon Beans
The chuckwagon is not folklore. It was a line item in a stock association's annual assessment, and the beans were what it carried.
Wyoming's round-up was an organised institution with a treasury, and the federal government wrote it down. Joseph Nimmo, Jr., Chief of the Bureau of Statistics at the Treasury Department, reported on the range and ranch cattle business of the United States on 16 May 1885, and his description of how the range was worked is exact: the stockmen "divide the country into round-up districts, in each of which there is an association, with officers and by-laws", the districts averaging some two thousand square miles, and "the members of an association make an annual contribution to pay round-up expenses, including the building of corrals and the maintenance of the round-up parties." Twice a year the parties went out — "the spring or calf round-up, and the fall or beef round-up" — and Nimmo lists what went with them: "Tents, wagons, camp equipage, and a cook are provided." The report carries an extract from the Wyoming Stock Growers' Association's own annual report for 1885 as its Appendix No. 20. The cook and his wagon were not colour; they were budgeted. The commons they worked closed within a lifetime, by statute: the grazing law now codified at 43 U.S.C. 315 authorised the Secretary of the Interior, "in order to promote the highest use of the public lands", to establish grazing districts out of "vacant, unappropriated, and unreserved lands from any part of the public domain of the United States". After that the wagon went out onto an allotment rather than an open range.
What that wagon was is in Philip Ashton Rollins's The Cowboy of 1922, which describes "chuck wagons," as mess wagons were called, taking "aboard their cooking outfits and food supplies" and rumbling out to the work place, each "made by imposing at the back end of an ordinary farm wagon a large box which contained shelves and had at its rear a lid that, hinged at the bottom and armed with legs, made, when lowered, a serviceable table." Rollins is no more sentimental about what came off it than the men were: on a drive, he writes, there was "no recreation except swearing, and the eating of the very dusty meals which the attendant chuck-wagon provided." The beans could go badly wrong, and one man said how. In The Trail Drivers of Texas, compiled by J. Marvin Hunter in 1920, the sketch headed "Trail Life," told by James Gibson of Alice, Texas, remembers a green cook set to make red beans, bacon, coffee and dried apples: "At first the coffee was all grounds, the bread like leather and the beans rattled down one's throat." That last failure has a chemical cause, it was published by the Department of Agriculture in 1900, and it is the reason this recipe starts with the water and not the beans.
Why this version works
Pork is a ration, not a garnish. The same Army manual rates the bean component against meat: beans and peas "with the right proportion of fat added in the form of bacon (about 20 per cent), are equal to meat in food value, and are a suitable substitute for fresh beef." Half a pound of slab bacon to a pound of dry beans is almost exactly that proportion, and it is what makes this a dinner rather than a side dish.
Soak, then throw the water away. The War Department's Manual for Army Cooks of 1916, written for cooking beans by the hundredweight, gives the sequence: "soaking the beans three hours, pouring off the water, scalding them in a second water which is poured off, boiling them an hour in a third water, then allowing them to simmer until done. This gives the beans a more agreeable flavor than if the water is not changed." Overnight instead of three hours is better still, and the discarded water takes a good deal of what makes beans hard company with it.
Acid at the end, never at the start. The molasses and the vinegar go in when the beans are already tender. Put them in early and the skins set; the pot then simmers for hours and gets nowhere, which is the same failure as hard water arriving by a different road. This one is not from a bulletin — it is what happens every time I have tried it the other way.
Soft water, or the beans never give in. Farmers' Bulletin 121, Beans, Peas, and Other Legumes as Food, by Mary Hinman Abel, published by the USDA in 1900, explains Gibson's rattling beans. Hard water is unsuitable "since the legumin of the seeds forms with these salts insoluble compounds with the result that portions of the vegetable remain hard, no matter how long they are cooked." The bulletin cites lentils boiled the same length of time in distilled and in limed water: the first cooked soft in an hour and a half, the second came out with only the skins swollen "over the kernel, which remained entirely hard." On the range the water came out of alkali creeks. In a kitchen, use filtered or bottled water and the problem disappears.