Beans, beans, the magical fruit, the more you eat, the more you toot… for most people, this is just a little ditty that school kids sing. For me, it’s daily life.
The hubby and I and a group of friends threw a party last weekend. It was a mid-winter beach party with a band and everything. Each of us was supposed to bring an appetizer and a dessert and were assigned a main dish.
I got beans.
My MO for baked beans is to start with canned and doctor them up. I know there are those who swear by hamburger in these, but I use bacon – that’s just how I roll. When I got ready to cook on Saturday afternoon I was worried that we wouldn’t have enough. I phoned Bill and said, “Could you stop on the way home and pick up 2 more big cans?”
I fried up bacon, sautéed onions, added dried mustard and got the concoction simmering. When Bill came home he found me slaving over a huge pot of simmering beans amidst a mountain of empty cans.
“Why did you want me to get more?” He asked incredulously, and plunked two, cafeteria-sized cans on the counter. When I said “big” cans, I had in mind 24 oz as opposed to 12 oz (and as opposed to the 128 oz ones I got), but the more the merrier.
“I figure we’ve got about 75 people coming, and according to the info on the cans, I only have servings for 60.” I said worriedly “I would hate to run out.”
Bill gave me “that” look. He doesn’t even think he HAS “that” look, but he does, and he employs it far too often. “Not everybody is going to eat beans. And even if they do, as I remember, this is not going to be the only item on the buffet.”
I hate it when gets all “voice of reason”.
“Some might want seconds. Better safe than sorry.” I said loftily, brushing a sweat-soaked hank of hair out of my eyes. I commenced welcoming the beany newcomers to our legume hot tub party.
I was glad to have Bill to carry the 50-pound pot of beans upstairs to where the party was happening. I brought a crock-pot full to get things started, and a huge stockpot full with which to refill the crock-pot.
The party was great! Some of those who were supposed to attend couldn’t make it, but everybody there had fun. I danced my fool head off, making sure to check the bean situation periodically. They didn’t seem to be disappearing quite as quickly as I had hoped. I didn’t discover the full extent of the calamity until the end of the evening when we were cleaning up and the wine started to wear off.
Looked like maybe only 1 cup of beans (2, tops) had been eaten.
If we’d thought this out better ahead of time, we ladies would have come prepared to split up the leftovers. But we didn’t. Each of us took home whatever she brought. The only bright spot is that it’s a lot easier to carry a 50-pound pot of beans down the stairs than up.
I guess I should save some pity for the woman who left with 30 pounds of barbecue, or the one who had 10 packages of hamburger buns. Someone else ended up with enough lettuce to feed a herd of bunnies for a month, and yet another had tray upon tray of brownies, cutout cookies and lemon squares. OK, forget about that last woman – pitying her would just be crazy. When I think of the ½ pan of brownies I had left over… and did I bring them home with me? No, I did not. I offloaded them onto the dessert lady in some wine-induced determination to keep eating healthy. Instead of brownies…
I got beans. BOY do I got beans.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it; the last 5 days have been rough.
At first it was like living the cowboy life, with Cookie rustling up a mess ‘o beans over a campfire out on the trail. Git along, little doggie! As time goes by, though, I feel more like one of the pioneers in the Donner party, looking assessingly at the horses pulling the covered wagon as a possible entrée item.
It’s gotten to the point where I’m actually considering eating the Silken Tofu that sits on the back of the shelf in my refrigerator. (I purchased it in a moment of healthy fervor and fully intended to use it…at the time). Note to self: never go grocery shopping right after working out; you make bad choices.
I KNOW that beans are an excellent source of fiber. But lets not forget the impact a steady diet of beans has on the digestive system. I don’t wish to be indelicate, but if you were considering stopping by our house and you have any sort of respiratory issues, I suggest you postpone your visit. The air quality around here may not meet EPA standards.
There are only so many ways to eat beans. I oughta know. I’ve been wracking my brains to figure out how to work them into meals in new and exciting ways. The good news is that we’re down to the last, big container. The end is finally in sight for From Here To Bean-ternity.
Time to wrap up this post. I can’t hear myself think over the gurgling sounds emanating from my lower bowel. Besides, I need to get supper started. If you’re in the neighborhood you’re welcome to join us. We’re having Crepes Beanette.