Southern-Style Butter Beans

So here’s the thing —
These butter beans? They’re not glamorous. They’re not gonna end up on the cover of Bon Appétit. But they’ve shown up at more family reunions, Sunday dinners, and post-church potlucks than I can count. And every time I make them, my kitchen smells like someone loves me.

That’s not a metaphor.
That’s bacon, garlic, and butter doing their job.

I remember standing on a chair next to my mama at the stove, watching her stir a pot of these beans like it was a sacred ritual. She’d hum some old hymn, flick the spoon to taste, nod quietly like the beans had whispered something to her. That’s the kind of recipe this is — the kind that doesn’t yell, just wraps you up in a soft “here, baby, sit down and eat.”

Why You’ll Probably Fall in Love with This Pot of Beans

  • They’re cozy — like soft socks and your favorite old hoodie.

  • Everything cooks in one pot, which feels like a small miracle.

  • Bacon. Enough said.

  • The broth turns rich and buttery and perfect for sopping up with cornbread (or even a biscuit you accidentally overbaked).

  • They feed a crowd or one tired person who wants something warm for the week ahead.

What You’ll Need (And What You Can Fudge)

Listen, this isn’t one of those recipes where you need to measure to the atomic level. Here’s what I usually toss in — with a few if-this-then-that swaps just in case your pantry’s running on vibes.

The Beans:

  • 1 lb dried lima beans (aka butter beans). Big, pale, flat beans. You can use frozen in a pinch, but dried ones taste like they tried.

The Flavor Makers:

  • 4 slices thick-cut bacon, chopped. If you only have regular bacon, use a couple more slices. If you’ve got a smoked ham hock, throw that sucker in.

  • 1 yellow onion, diced. Doesn’t need to be fancy — just not one that’s already sprouting in your pantry.

  • 1/2 cup shredded carrots. I know, I know. It sounds odd, but it melts into the background and makes everything just a smidge sweeter. Trust me.

  • 2 cloves garlic, minced (or more, if you’re feeling dramatic).

  • 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme. Or a sprig of fresh if your garden’s still hanging on.

  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder & onion powder. Layering flavor is how we roll.

  • 2 bay leaves. Don’t ask what they do — just add them.

  • 1 stick (1/2 cup) butter. Yes, the whole thing. No, we’re not cutting corners.

  • 4 cups chicken broth. Low-sodium if you like to season as you go. Water if you’re in a tight spot, but broth’s better.

  • Salt and pepper, to taste — meaning taste it a few times and trust your gut.

How to Cook ‘Em (Or, The Lazy Southern Way That Still Tastes Like Love)

Step 1: Soak ‘em… or Don’t

If you’re a planner: Soak the dried beans overnight in a big bowl of water.
If you’re like me: Toss the beans in a pot, cover with water, bring to a boil, turn off the heat, slap on a lid, and walk away for an hour. Boom. Quick soak.

Drain and rinse them either way. Let them start fresh.

Step 2: Bacon Time

Grab your heaviest pot. A Dutch oven if you’ve got it, something that says, “I’ve seen things.” Cook the bacon pieces over medium heat until crispy and the fat smells like Sunday morning.

Don’t you dare drain that fat. That’s the flavor talking.

Step 3: Veggie Time

Toss in the onion, shredded carrots, garlic, thyme, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, and pepper. Stir everything around in that bacon fat until it smells so good you consider eating it with a spoon. Don’t do that. Yet.

Step 4: Everybody In

Add the beans, bay leaves, butter, and chicken broth. Then add just enough water to make sure the beans are covered by about an inch. Give it all a stir.

Step 5: Simmer and Chill (Well, Not You — the Beans)

Turn the heat down until it’s just barely bubbling — we’re talkin’ a soft simmer. Put a lid on it just a little off-kilter and let those beans take their sweet time. Stir now and then. Keep an eye on the liquid — add more broth or water if it gets too low.

They’re done when the beans are soft and the broth is thick enough to make you want to lick the spoon. Usually about an hour to 90 minutes, depending on how generous the bean gods are feeling.

Switch It Up (You Know You Wanna)

  • Add a splash of hot sauce if you like a little heat. (Crystal or Texas Pete, don’t @ me.)

  • Toss in chopped greens in the last 10 minutes — kale, collards, even a bag of spinach.

  • Feeling indulgent? Add a splash of cream at the end. No one’s judging.

  • No bacon? Use olive oil, a splash of liquid smoke, and call it a day.

Storing the Love

  • Fridge: These keep for 4–5 days easy. Tuck into a container and they’ll be even better tomorrow.

  • Freezer: Ladle into freezer bags or containers, squeeze out the air, and stash for up to 3 months.

  • Reheat: Stovetop is best, but microwave works. Just loosen with a little water or broth if it gets too thick.

Pro tip: Serve leftovers over rice or with a fried egg on top. You’ll feel like a genius.

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