“Make new friends but keep the old; those are silver, these are gold.” 

It’s been somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 years since I first learned those lines, along with the rest of Joseph Parry’s poem, yet they still flit through my mind with a particular cadence. It’s poetically fitting that yes, though I’ve memorized countless rhymes and verses in the intervening decades, I’ve still kept this old stanza tucked safely away. 

Sentiments like these are not often heard in early Januarys. The new year is here! We must be looking ahead to new plans and attitudes, resolving to make ourselves newer and better, focusing on new habits and strategies. The year is new and everything else must be as well. 

Then again…really? Admittedly, you had to get out a new calendar — well, probably, although some are two-year or school-year, so maybe not. We are in 2026 now instead of 2025, but that might be the only absolute change. Nothing magical happened between 11:59 p.m. and 12 a.m. of New Year’s Eve, as far as I am aware. (I wouldn’t know, I was blessedly asleep.) 

I have nothing against looking ahead; 2026 sounds like it will hold lots of new, exciting, meaningful things. New Year’s resolutions tend to be great in theory, and they are even better if actually kept. If there are areas of your life that you feel you should address and the new year gives you the impetus to make attainable goals and get started, by all means, go for it! 

Once again, however, I didn’t make any resolutions this year…and shocking a revelation as it may be, that’s not actually because I have all my ducks in a row. It’s more just because at this point in my life I’m content enough with my ducks running around like chickens with their heads cut off. 

Another reason is because I’ve also been thinking more along the lines of the poem, not just in friendship but in many aspects. We rarely talk about keeping the good “old” parts when we set new resolutions in January, but maybe we shouldn’t cast off or discount everything that isn’t new and shiny. Maybe some things we’re already doing and already have are gold. 

If I look around, I can see a lot of things our family could change and set some important goals for. Some things about myself and our household drive me crazy. Yet at the same time, I’m also deeply satisfied with what we’ve got here. It’s gold. 

I thought of the poem in Ohio the other week when I got the chance to meet up with a group of friends — we’ve been friends for 25 years, life has taken us to different places, and we’ve all changed a lot. I’ve made a whole lot of new friends since we all met as little girls; I honestly don’t interact with these friends much in between our annual-ish gatherings, yet there is something uniquely golden about still having them in my life. 

I feel that way about many things — I can be exasperatingly sentimental — so it should come as no surprise that some dishes and recipes have that golden aura about them. Well okay, I guess it could come as a surprise, since I am constantly looking for and trying new things. But sometimes nothing will quite satisfy hunger like a golden oldie, whether it’s a dish from childhood, an it’s-always-made-this-way recipe, or one out of your own regular rotation. 

So hello 2026. Let’s bring on new things, yet not be afraid to keep some old. 

Archetypal Ham and Beans Soup

I had a ham bone, and I had no questions about what I wanted to make with it: the goal was classic, nostalgic ham and beans. I wanted lots of flavor, but not new ones. This simple crockpot meal was just the ticket: salty, meaty, brothy, beany. I’m looking forward to the leftovers tomorrow — another example of the “old” being just as good as making something new. 

Prep tips: Can you buy just a ham bone? I don’t even know; I just always use what’s left over from a whole ham (plus some of the meat). Serve with cornbread, of course. 

• 1 pound great northern/navy beans

• 1 ham bone, preferably pretty meaty

• 1 onion, diced

• 2 large carrots, diced

• 3 bay leaves

• thyme and sage, fresh or dried

• 1 teaspoon each salt and pepper 

• more ham, diced

• ½ - 1 teaspoon liquid smoke

Soak the beans in a (turned off) crockpot overnight (or at least 6 hours), with 2 tablespoons salt and water to cover by several inches. Drain the water, and add fresh water to cover by 1-2 inches; add in the ham bone, onion, carrots, herbs, and s&p. Cook on low for 4-6 hours, or until the beans are fully tender and falling apart. Remove the bone, pulling off and returning any ham to the pot, along with as much extra ham as you feel like. Add liquid smoke, and adjust seasoning to taste. Return to a simmer until ready to serve.

Lettuce Eat Local is a weekly local foods column by Amanda Miller, who lives in rural Reno County on the family dairy farm with her husband and two small children. She seeks to help build connections through food with her community, the earth, and the God who created it all. Send feedback and recipe ideas tohyperpeanutbutter@gmail.com.