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Green Bean Succotash

Green Bean Succotash


  • 8 ounces green beans, trimmed
  • 1 cup frozen lima beans, thawed
  • 1 cup fresh corn kernels (cut from 2 medium ears)
  • 3/4 cup diced red bell pepper
  • 2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter
  • 1/2 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning

Recipe Preparation

  • Blanch green beans until crisp-tender, about 4 minutes. Transfer to bowl of ice water to cool; drain.

  • Heat oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add green beans and sauté 1 minute. Add lima beans, corn, and bell pepper. Sauté until vegetables are crisp-tender, about 4 minutes. Mix in butter and Old Bay; season to taste with salt and pepper.

Reviews Section

Trout with Green Bean Succotash

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1 cup baby lima beans, fresh or frozen (thawed, if frozen), cut into 1-inch pieces-spray

1 lb fresh green beans, cleaned and washed

2 cups fresh corn (from 2 medium cobs)

3 medium tomatoes, cored and diced

1 tbsp fresh dill, chopped (¼ cup whole dill leaves)

4 4-oz trout fillets, skin and bones removed


1. Bring 4 cups water to a boil in a medium saucepot. Add lima beans, cook for 3 minutes, then add green beans and cook for 7 to 8 more minutes. Add corn and cook for another 3 to 5 minutes.

2. Drain and rinse bean-corn mixture under cool water. Then toss with tomatoes in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, mix together oil, dill, lemon juice and zest, salt and pepper. Pour over vegetables and gently mix.

3. Set oven to broil on high. Place trout on baking sheet misted with cooking spray, then spray trout with cooking spray and broil for 5 to 10 minutes, until fish turns white and flakes with a fork. Serve trout with bean-corn mixture immediately.

Green Bean Succotash - Recipes

Oh Boy Succotash. One of the most fun words to say in all of history!

But this isn't just any Succotash, this replaces those nasty (in my opinion) Lima Beans with good old green beans. But then it goes even further. the recipe features Roasted Red peppers, Garlic, Shallots, Even a can of protein rich Cannelloni beans and all naturally sweetened with Cherry Tomatoes.

This is one LOADED up side dish filled with layers upon layers of vegetable goodness.

I made and served this dish up as part of my Thanksgiving holiday spread. The Health nuts I invited loved every bite. Good enough to please my one vegetarian family member as her main course. This is a keeper, sure to show up at family get together events again and again.

The recipe came from a WONDERFUL inventive new cookbook, Taste & Technique: Recipes to Elevate Your Home Cooking. I was asked to read and review the book.

This is one of those books that are just as much fun to read as it is to cook from. James Beard Award-winning and self-made chef Naomi Pomeroy's debut cookbook, featuring nearly 140 lesson-driven recipes designed to improve the home cook's understanding of professional techniques and flavor combinations in order to produce simple, but show-stopping meals.

In the introduction, "It's my hope that this book will encourage you to get into the kitchen, take cooking seriously, and feel good about it."

The book is a progression of steps, simple sauces, simple techniques, gradually adding steps and tips to move through simple dishes to outstanding show stopping dishes worthy of being served in any restaurant,

I could not recommend this book enough as a gift for anyone interested in improving as a cook. No matter what level you start at, you will indeed "encourage you to get into the kitchen, take cooking seriously, and feel good about it."

In short, again. I LOVED THIS BOOK!

Here's the legal stuff. "I received this book from Blogging for Books for this review." But the review and opinions are 100% accurate and mine!". I did indeed cook the recipe as printed and it worked on every level I could ask. Wonderful Look, appealing texture and delicious taste. I look forward to making many more of the beautiful dishes offered! Love this book and highly recommend it!

  • 12 ounces green beans, trimmed, cut into 3/4-inch pieces (about 3 cups)
  • ¾ teaspoon salt, divided
  • 2 large ears fresh corn, husked
  • 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 2 small summer squash or zucchini, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
  • ¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
  • 2 scallions, finely chopped

Place beans in a large saucepan add water to cover. Add 1/2 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat to maintain a simmer and cook until the beans are tender, 20 to 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, cut corn kernels from the cobs: Hold an ear by its stem end in a deep bowl. Use a small sharp knife to cut off the kernels, letting them fall into the bowl. Then scrape down the cob with a small spoon, scraping the "milk" and remaining corn pulp into the bowl. (Discard the cobs.)

When the beans are done, drain, reserving the cooking liquid.

Heat oil and butter in a large, heavy skillet over medium heat. Add the corn and "milk." Stir to coat well, then add squash (or zucchini), the beans and 2 tablespoons of the bean- cooking liquid. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the corn and squash are tender, 8 to 12 minutes. Add more bean-cooking liquid if necessary to keep the mixture from sticking to the pan. Season with the remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt and pepper. Sprinkle with scallions and serve immediately.

Summer Succotash Gratin

Preheat the oven to 425° and position a rack in the center. In a large, deep skillet, melt the butter in 2 tablespoons of the oil. Add the onion and garlic and cook over moderate heat, stirring, until softened, 5 minutes. Add the bell pepper, corn, green beans, fava beans and Aleppo, season with salt and black pepper and cook, stirring, until the beans are crisp-tender, 3 minutes. Add the stock and simmer until evaporated, about 3 minutes.

Transfer the vegetables to a large baking dish and let cool slightly. Stir in the basil, chives, cream and eggs.

In a small bowl, toss the panko with the shredded cheese and the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil. Season the topping with salt and pepper sprinkle over the succotash and bake for 10 minutes, until heated through.

Turn on the broiler and broil in the center of the oven for about 3 minutes, just until the top is golden. Let the gratin stand for 10 minutes, then serve.

Shrimp and Edamame Succotash

Bursting with summer flavors, this Shrimp and Edamame Succatash is a fun twist on the traditional and makes the perfect weeknight dinner.


  • 2 slices of bacon, chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/2 cup onion, minced
  • 1 cup corn kernals
  • 1 red pepper, diced
  • 1.5 cups frozen, shelled edamame
  • 1 pound shrimp, raw, peeled & devined
  • 1 tsp paprika
  • 1 Tbsp melted butter
  • optional toppings: basil & goat cheese


  1. In a large saute pan, cook bacon, onion, garlic and peppers over medium heat for 5 minutes.
  2. Cook edamame according to package directions. Add to pan along with corn and cook 3 minutes more.
  3. Set aside.
  4. Place shrimp on skewers, brush with melted butter and sprinkle with paprika. Grill 2 minutes per side.
  5. Plate succotash mixture, top with shrimp and add fresh basil and goat cheese if desired.


If you don’t want to grill your shrimp you can easily cook them in the pan. [br]Feel free to sub your favorite bean for the edamame.

Did you make this recipe?

This meal comes together really quickly. I grilled my shrimp, or rather hubby did, but you can easily cook them in the pan if you don’t feel like grilling!

Don’t like edamame? Use lima beans another bean you enjoy. Feel free to add fresh tomatoes, squash or other summer veggies if you want!


  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 cup sliced shallots
  • 1 tablespoon sliced garlic
  • 2 1/2 cups chopped green beans
  • 1/2 cup fresh corn kernels
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1/2 cup torn fresh basil
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Nutritional Information

  • Calories 163
  • Fat 11g
  • Satfat 2g
  • Unsatfat 9g
  • Protein 3g
  • Carbohydrate 15g
  • Fiber 4g
  • Sugars 6g
  • Added sugars 0g
  • Sodium 252mg
  • Calcium 5% DV
  • Potassium 10% DV

  • 1 1/2 cups frozen or fresh shelled edamame (see Ingredient Note)
  • 1 tablespoon canola oil
  • ½ cup chopped red bell pepper
  • ¼ cup chopped onion
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 cups corn kernels
  • 3 tablespoons dry white wine or water
  • 2 tablespoons rice vinegar
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil or 1 teaspoon dried
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • Freshly ground pepper to taste

Cook edamame in a large saucepan of lightly salted water until tender, about 4 minutes or according to package directions. Drain well.

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add bell pepper, onion and garlic cook, stirring frequently, until vegetables start to soften, about 2 minutes. Stir in corn, wine (or water) and the edamame cook, stirring frequently, for 4 minutes. Remove from the heat. Stir in vinegar, parsley, basil, salt and pepper. Serve immediately.

Make Ahead Tip: Cover and refrigerate for up to 2 days.

Ingredient Note: Edamame are easy to digest and are exceptionally high in protein (1/2 cup has 16 grams). There are several kinds available today--frozen and fresh, in the pod and shelled--in large supermarkets, natural-foods stores or Asian markets.


Marin County Farmers Market is sort of the country cousin of the Ferry Building market in San Francisco. Many of the same vendors are at both venues, and you are likely to see San Francisco chefs looking for great products in Marin. The market is smaller than its San Francisco counterpart, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have the same excellent selections. Because of the driving distance, there are far fewer tourists so that gives the vendors a chance provide the best products and catch up on what’s going on in the restaurants. Not only is there talk of food but also of family.

The market meets Sunday morning on the grounds of the Marin County Civic Center in San Rafael. The Center itself is a Frank Lloyd Wright- designed futuristic building looking like an enormous pink space ship just landed in the parking lot.

On our last visit to San Francisco we took a Sunday break after a grueling week of restaurant preparation. Our plan was to cross the Golden Gate Bridge, visit the lighthouse on the Marin Headland, and then go to the market for the fixings for our evening meal. Our plans were changed by the heavy summer fogs at the Golden Gate, but the weather cleared completely as we drove inland to San Rafael.

Once at the market, we loaded our grandson in the stroller and started down the long rows of busy stalls. The choices were almost overwhelming. Northern California is becoming famous for producing seasonal sweet strawberries in sharp contrast to the woody flavorless ones which have come to be the standard on supermarket shelves all year-long. Berries were in abundance, so we bought more than enough for desert. Our grandson soon had a sticky red face.

Stone fruits of all sorts. Root vegetables of every color and variety. Then we saw the most beautiful display of fava beans. They were freshly picked, and the pods were thick and completely filled out. Who could resist? We bought a big sack of them.

Fava beans shelled and husks removed, ready to cook

Fresh green peas in the shell and ears of corn were in nearby stalls, so my daughter made an on-the-spot decision to make a succotash.

Green peas shelled and ready to cook

There was a good display of mushrooms, though not the royal trumpets I was hoping for. Nevertheless a basket of cremenis found a home in our bags.

It was surprising to me that the summer squashes were already in good supply, and one vendor had large squash blossoms for sale. Another decision – squash blossoms stuffed with a bacon, squash, and mushroom filling.

Squash blossoms with sepals and stamen removed, ready for stuffing

Stuffed squash blossoms frying

My daughter found an artistic display of Persian cucumbers with their corrugated pale green skin and twisted shapes. Baskets of heirloom tomatoes were not far away, so a tomato and cucumber salad with radishes and leaf greens made the menu.

Persian cucumbers and heirloom tomatoes

We found some juicy pork shoulders at the Prather Ranch stall, and so my son-in-law decided to grill some.

Pork shoulders ready for the grill

By then the little one had fallen to sleep, and the grownups were hungry. It was hard to choose from all the food stalls: Indian curries, paella, hamburgers, hot dogs, etc, etc. We finally decided on baked-to-order pizzas. After we finished our meal, we loaded back in the car and headed home.

It had been a successful day, but we were also looking forward to the meal ahead.

Pizza cooked to order at the farmers market

Fava Beans

If you have never had fresh fava beans, you should be aware that their preparation is labor-intensive. You start out with what looks like a huge pile of pods and wind up with a little bowl of prepared beans. It is a good idea for the cook to recruit a prep assistant. In this case, that was me. If you have never had fresh fava beans you should know that the reason folks are willing to go to all the effort is that they taste so good.

We started with about 2 pounds of unshelled fava beans.

  • Shell the beans
  • Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a rolling boil
  • Pour the shelled beans into the boiling water
  • Return to the boil for one minute – no longer
  • Drain the beans and chill them immediately in a previously prepared large bowl filled with ice and water. The salted water and blanching will keep the beans green and not mushy.
  • Chill the beans for at least 15 minutes and then drain them
  • Using your fingers and a sharp paring knife peel off the stiff, translucent husk from the bright green beans, being careful not to crush the beans
  • With a small knife, remove the tiny white sprout from the beans. You can skip this step, but the sprout can give a bitter taste to the beans.
  • Combine all of the husked beans in a small bowl and set them aside for later use

Fava Bean, Grilled Corn, and Green Pea Succotash

  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1 small onion, small diced
  • 1 pound fresh green peas, shelled
  • 2 ears of corn, shucked, cleaned, and kernels cut off
  • 1 batch of prepared fava beans
  • sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
  • butter for finishing
  • squeeze of lemon
  • Heat a cast iron skillet over a medium-high flame. Add the oil and butter and continue to heat until the butter has stopped foaming.
  • Add the diced onion and cook, stirring frequently, until the onion is soft and translucent. Be careful not to burn.
  • Add the green peas and corn kernels.
  • Cook for five minutes, stirring frequently.
  • Just before you are ready to serve, add the fava beans and stir until completed heated through, another 2-3 minutes. If you add the beans too early in the process they may become mushy.
  • Correct the seasoning with salt and pepper. Stir in the extra butter and squeeze of lemon and serve immediately.

Persian cucumber and heirloom tomato salad

The finished plate – ready to eat

With two professional chefs and an amateur but eager prep cook, the dinner came together surprisingly quickly. Things got plated out. We relaxed with a glass of wine. Perfect end to a perfect day. And thank goodness for a modern dishwasher (the electric kind)

Fava bean succotash

Behind an antique two-pump gas station on the seaward side of Highway 1, up a path of stone steps laden with native plants and the fog-driven ghosts of Henry Miller and Anais Nin, before a stretch of enormous redwoods, sits a 1930s wooden farmhouse that for the last five years has been home to Big Sur Bakery & Restaurant.

You watch condors wheel through the lower atmosphere and hear the deep symphonies of surf somewhere, below layers of earthbound clouds, and think -- who wouldn’t come here if they could? Exchange the hot clutter of city life for perfect air, a wild ocean? Quit your job to paint in a grotto, write sonnets under a redwood, play a piano in the back of a flatbed truck like Jack Nicholson in “Five Easy Pieces.”

Five years ago, Michelle Rizzolo, Philip Wojtowicz and Michael Gilson did just that: quit Los Angeles to move up to Big Sur to open a restaurant. No plan, no ownership experience. Just the high romanticism of youth and maybe that thought: Who wouldn’t come here if they could?

Dodge a school of parked motorcycles, a listing RV, a pair of pristine BMW convertibles, and you’ll hear the espresso machine and smell the asiago bread before you see the restaurant’s cozy, cabin-like interior. Through an open doorway into the kitchen, you can glimpse pizzas going into the enormous wood-burning oven. As the servers prepare for the dinner crowd -- a mix of devoted locals, passers-by surprised by the exquisite menu and the BMW-owning set referred by the nearby resorts. White tablecloths flutter in the breeze rising off the coast. A waiter, one of the kids who comes up for the summer to surf or paint on his days off, lights candles. Wild quail scatter before approaching weekend cars. Mount Manuel looms to the east, through wild blackberry bushes and the broken shards of old-growth forest.

You have a palpable sense of discovery, like you’ve stumbled upon a sudden clearing in a tangled world.

Inside the restaurant, Rizzolo, a tiny brunette with wide blue eyes, arranges the bread she bakes every morning on wooden trays for the tables while chef Wojtowicz, an intense man with a surf-burnt face and Rizzolo’s husband of a year, partner for over 10, starts dinner service. The old building hums with conversation and the music of glassware and cutlery the rising smells of roasting vegetables and simmering sauces roll in from the kitchen like scarves of evening fog rolling in from the Pacific. It seems like an idea of dinner more than dinner, the way Big Sur often seems like a Platonic ideal of place, too refracted through the cathedral of sky and branches to be real.

But the food is real: a marriage of local ingredients and serious technique. Wood-grilled wild King salmon or Niman Ranch rib-eye are paired with mix-and-match vegetables -- roasted carrots, baby beets and fennel fingerling potatoes with fresh garbanzos, peppers, onions and arugula. A pair of quail roasted in the wood oven leans into a succotash of favas, green beans, corn, peas and dried cranberries. Grilled fat sardines, fresh from Monterey Bay, top herbed frisee and cherry tomatoes.

And then there’s the pizza -- large pies with beautiful crisp crusts that are paper-thin in the middle, and thick and blistery on the edge. One, with a bright, golden sauce made from summer squash, is topped with zucchini, prosciutto and sage. Campers and bikers tend to go for the house-sliced pepperoni, sometimes raising eyebrows at the $14.50 price tag.

The gas station makes it real too, as do the his-and-hers wooden outhouses. The first few months after Rizzolo, Wojtowicz and Gilson moved up here, the floor was very real -- that’s where they slept until they could find housing. Two Culinary Institute of America-trained chefs who had moved to California from their native New Jersey to work in some of L.A.'s top restaurants -- Melisse, Joe’s in Venice, the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills, and then Campanile when Mark Peel and Nancy Silverton both ran the kitchens. And their friend from Joe’s, a long-time server with dreams and, now, the means to open a place of his own. Who wouldn’t if they could?

At the time, the decision hadn’t seemed so momentous: Rizzolo and Wojtowicz had been driving a loaner car (theirs had just been stolen outside of Campanile) when they saw Gilson standing on a Venice corner, in overalls from his day job as a landscaper, holding two chain saws. He’d just quit the landscaping job to move north and open his own place did they want to come? Imagine: the landscape, the sea, the miles of opportunity. The three of them ate dinner that night at Campanile (it was Thursday, grilled cheese night), drove to Big Sur over the weekend. Rizzolo and Wojtowicz gave notice at Campanile two days later.

They had no idea what they were doing, really, sleeping on the floor of the old building Gilson had leased, half house, half-abandoned pizzeria. Until that afternoon on a Venice street, Rizzolo had never even heard of Big Sur Wojtowicz only knew of it from reading Kerouac. Gilson, a sandy-haired, wind-burnt man from Manhattan Beach, had been going up there to surf for 20 years (“it was my own New Zealand”), but he’d never cooked, never owned a restaurant. Nonetheless, six weeks later, they opened for business.

“We felt so disconnected,” says Rizzolo. After all the camaraderie from chefs in Los Angeles, they’d escaped, they thought, maybe too far. They began in a kind of vacuum, with no one to give them advice or feedback, working around the clock to open so that they could make rent on the property. “You start with bread,” says Rizzolo, a pastry chef and baker, “it’s flour and water.” And you start with fire. In their case, a massive Alan Scott wood oven, which the previous tenant, the pizzeria owner, had had built for $14,000. The first thing they put on their nascent menu, after the morning breads, was pizza.

That initial year was difficult, between learning the ropes and trying to strike a balance between the locals, sometimes a hard sell, and the inexact science of gauging the appetites and frequency of tourists. Staffing was difficult, so many would come and go, lured by the seasons. But they learned while they cooked, baking pastries for the morning crowd and burnished pizzas for the campers and tourists, and evolving a sophisticated dinner menu for resort-goers and local patrons with deep wine cellars.

Still, they wondered, especially in the winter, which “can get kind of crazy and weird,” after weeks of rains, no cell service, the power suddenly out, the winding highway impenetrable. “The road,” says Gilson, “is a big issue. It collapses every once in a while and no one can get through.” Such isolation can drive you a little nuts -- think Jack Nicholson with a repeating typewriter instead of a beautiful piano.

“Who would know,” Rizzolo asks rhetorically, “if we were cooking bad food? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” This feeling of playing to an empty room repeats when you talk to the trio for awhile, and you can feel a tension just below the surface, like a current under slow waves.

It’s the flip side of the vacation ideal, of the beautiful notion of a great escape -- the sudden unsettling thought that you’re off the radar, your boat possibly adrift. “You really can’t get away from yourself,” observes Gilson. “It’s a myth that a lot of people have.”

And you can’t get away from your food either, at least if you’re a driven chef with a lot of ambition and not much distraction besides coastal weather and the occasional electrical blackout. Far from trends and direct competition, with the urban world pursuing questionably high-minded notions of cuisine, Rizzolo and Wojtowicz have cooked. And gotten comfortable in their own kitchen. “It makes you really confident,” says Rizzolo, “in a roasted chicken.”

Roasted, that is, in the wood-burning oven and served with a garlic gravy and mashed potatoes with sauteed salsify, mushrooms and wilted greens.

Or in the candied ginger scones that locals line up for in the morning at the bakery counter. Or the pains au chocolat. Or citrus sticky buns. Or the potato-herb frittata that’s put out in an enormous cast iron skillet and sold by the slice for breakfast.

None of this is cheap -- dinner for two can easily run $125 without wine. But that’s par for the neighborhood, where the competition is Nepenthe, Ventana and Post Ranch Inn.

When not riding the surf or playing in his rock band at open-mike night at the Miller library, Wojtowicz is most at home above his wood-fired grill. And he’s got plenty of local bounty to play with: “Everybody has fruit trees,” he says. “In season, people will come by with 20 pounds of chanterelles, or we’ll get a call from the wharf from somebody with a boatload of salmon.”

Rizzolo likes to play too, roasting apricots for a rich sorbet and including hazelnuts in a deeply-flavored flan. The food seems to show intense concentration, in both the flavors themselves and in the chef’s notion of what the dish is in the first place.

As if someone had a lot of time and space to think -- maybe in a pre-dawn kitchen, the ocean fog breathing on the windows, the trees and sky bearing down -- of what they were doing and why they were there. If they had gone too far off the map. If it had been worth it. Or if they hadn’t gone far enough.

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