Beans. Tell me the word inspires sonnets and reverie, and I'll call you a liar. Who gets excited about beans?
Um, hi. I do.
Pretty, highfalutin beans have recently caught my fancy, and I can justify their expense for one reason alone: even at their priciest, heirloom beans still cost less than many forms of animal protein. A pound of beans from Rancho Gordo, a Northern California purveyor, costs $5-$6. Even with shipping, they're still cheaper per pound than the same amount of good meat or fish. (*I have no relationship with Rancho Gordo and pay for all my beans myself. Obviously.)
Plus, you feel like you're treating yourself to something special. Look into those "yellow eye" beauties. Don't you feel a tug? I just want to cuddle them and read them bedtime stories. Pull up the covers and tuck them in tight. On their birthday I'll take them to tea at the Plaza.
Preparing dried beans is not hard. You soak them overnight (if you want) and then just boil them gently until they're tender. That's it. Want to use a pressure cooker? Fine. Want to make them in the slow cooker? Fine. Want to use the quick-soak method and skip the overnight business? Fine. Want to buy pretty beans from Whole Foods or your little Italian market or the bulk bins at your local co-op? Fine, fine, and fine. What do I care?
The point is, there's a whole universe out there besides kidney beans, black beans, garbanzos, pintos, and cannellinis from a tin. I use canned beans all the time, too (hello hummus and white beans puttanesca), but that doesn't mean you can't play the field.
Instead of putting on rubies or emeralds, instead of adorning yourself with silken finery, toss colorful beans into your pot and accessorize your life on the cheap. Got some glass vases? Who needs fresh flowers when you can fill them with dried beans?
