Feijoada

This coming Monday, Brazil will celebrate Republic Day, the 132nd anniversary of the end of the rule of the Bragança dynasty (1822-89 in Brazil), and the establishment of the republic by Marshall Deodoro da Fonseca, who at that time became the first president (and as of this post in 2021, president #38 is in office).

Today’s dish, then, will be the Brazilian national dish: feijoada. It will become the first in a line of national dishes. To that end, if you scroll all the way down to the bottom of this post where you can see that I wrote it and what time I released it, you’ll also be able to click on a number of labeling tags, one of which will be “national dishes.” Click there to view all the recipes of several countries’ national dishes quickly and conveniently (or, if not technically their national dishes, then at least a dish very closely tied to them and their gastronomical culture) as they are published. As of the time this recipe was originally published, it is so far the only one in the category, but more will surely be added.

Feijoada can be an intimidating dish to an American home cook because it takes so long to prepare and has so many distinct ingredients and layers of flavor, but it need not be intimidating. (This is certainly not a weeknight meal.) Feijoada preparation has four main components: searing meat, sweating off aromatics, cooking beans, and braising meat. The name of the dish, “feijoada,” is derived from the star ingredient, beans (“feijão” in the singular, “feijões” in the plural). In the part of the country my family comes from (and thus where I learned the dish), the vast majority of feijoadas use black beans (as will be the case in this recipe), but pinto beans are an occasional and acceptable substitute. But in other parts of the country further inland or to the north, the situation is exactly reversed: a pinto feijoada is the norm, and a black feijoada would be exceptional. A “feijoada” can also refer to a party at which the most important food being served is this dish.

Begin with the first step, searing meat. I have talked about creating “fond” (in the English sense where this word means “sticky caramelized bits of flavorful stuff stuck to a pan”) several times in previous recipes. This step is first precisely because we want fond which we will deglaze later, enhancing the flavor of the dish. Pretty much anything good in a braise, soup, or stew works well here—German wursts (Weiss or brat), smoked ham hock, and bone-in short ribs, just to name a few. Whatever you choose, sear it off to get some good color and to build some fond in a large pot (I use my Dutch oven, which is 8 quarts, and I recommend something about the same size), but don’t expect to cook anything all the way through. Allow these meats—the bigger the assortment the better—to get some color, and then reserve them.

Then, sweat off at least one, if not two, diced onions. Follow with 3 large cloves of garlic that have been minced. “Onion first, garlic later” is critical: putting both aromatics in simultaneously, or worse, putting the garlic in before the onions will burn the garlic. And if you burn the garlic, you might burn your fond. If you burn your fond, clean your pan and start over. Preparing these aromatics before the meat is seared is a fantastic way to establish and preserve mise en place throughout this dish. Once the onions and the garlic have given up some of their moisture, but before they take on color because they have started caramelizing, deglaze with a dash of good vinegar. Typically, I use apple cider or red wine. (I also always have a good balsamic available, but it gets too fruity and too sweet over time in dishes like this. There’s a time and a place for an amazing balsamic, and, in general, that’s not in a feijoada.)

Reintroduce the meat. Add enough water to cover everything by at least an inch, bearing in mind that this should never dry out and will simmer on low to medium-low for 2-3 hours. Drop in a bay leaf. Bring everything to a boil, then back it down to a simmer, leaving it there for several hours, until the meat nearly falls apart and the beans are tender. Wait to season until the end of the cooking process. Some of the seasonings in whatever meats you put into the feijoada, if there was any cooking or processing done by anyone else before you, may be salted. If you salt too early, the liquids will concentrate and, given the amount of salt already in the food from the beginning, the end result will be excessively salty.

Feijoada is served with rice (steamed in a covered saucepan, 2:1, water:rice), oranges, and a salad. Often, a rodizio de churrasco (an enormous range of different skewered meats barbequed over a fire, cut by a waiter tableside, and served from the spit they were cooked on) provides even more protein than what is in the feijoada per se. Especially if the churrasco is served with it, farofa (toasted cassava flour with a whole array of mix-ins, including eggs, raisins, and onions) is non-negotiable as a side dish. Fresh-squeezed orange juice or a soft drink made from the fruits of the Guaraná tree are common drinks with feijoadas, especially at parties. Be careful drinking guarana if you don’t sleep well when you drink coffee—it has about twice as much caffeine as caffeinated coffee per volume. If you choose to drink the guaraná (no, this isn’t sponsored) my preference, and that of most Brazilians, is the "Antarctica" brand.

Enjoying a feijoada is meant to be an experience that lasts several hours; this is not an ideal weeknight meal. If you need a quick weeknight meal, then simpler rice and beans would be a good option. But if you’re willing to put in the work and wait long enough, it will be well worth it for the full feijoada experience. And lastly, remember that a feijoada is never a private occasion: it is meant to be enjoyed in the company of many family and friends, coming together as a community to celebrate something and enjoy Latin America's most populous nation's signature dish.

(Credit to Spark Recipes - SparkPeople)