Come, my peeps. Let us take a break from the judgement-impaired people currently whoring their children’s personal life stories for a cheap 15 minutes of fame. (All together now: “But I wanted an OOOOOOORRRRRRPHHHAAAANNNN!”) Let us take a respite from the tabloid drivel that passes for news for certain “news” organizations (motto: “We don’t care if it’s the TRUTH! We just want viewers so we keep our jobs!”). And let us talk about something IMPORTANT. Something GOOD. Something REAL.
Yes. That’s right. I am talking about BEANS.
The simple bean, source of comfort. Source of energy. Source of farts. I mean, seriously. Who doesn’t love a good bean, I ask you? (And if you do not love a good bean, well shush now. I have had all the angst I can stand for this week.)
Beans are healthy, economical, and oft times, tasty. So in that vein, I decided to embark on a new culinary adventure. I am making — wait for it — BAKED BEANS.
I know. Crazy that I have never made baked beans before, yes? But the truth is, I do not like baked beans. Well, that is not entirely true. I have never liked CANNED baked beans, which is all I have honestly ever had. But everybody raves about baked beans, REAL baked beans, so I thought to myself, “Self? Why not try it?”
And I decided THIS would be the week. (Look at me menu planning! Am I not domestic? Am I not economical?)
So I looked at recipes, and there was one in a Canadian Living cookbook. I purchased beans. I put a reminder in my calendar in case said beans needed to be soaked overnight. (They did not. Whew.) I preboiled the beans. I let them sit. I boiled them for a half hour until tender, despite the annoyances of beans boiling over onto a ceramic cooktop SEVERAL times. I was READY.
And then… it all came to a screeching halt when I realized I had no canned tomatoes for the damn thing.
So. I have a buttload of beans in a bucket on my counter. I have chopped this and that in a container. I have ketchup. I have molasses. All sitting there, looking forlorn. With no medium into which they may be stirred to become tasty baked beany goodness.
At least not today. Maybe tomorrow, after a trip to the store.
So now, not only do I have no idea what to make for supper, but I have a fridge full of not-baked-beans.
I knew there was a reason I didn’t like baked beans. I don’t get these kinds of hassles from kidney beans.