Inferior Beans

Long ago, I knew everything about beans. Just ask my children.

I knew how to soak ‘em, slow-cook ‘em, mash ‘em, and use ‘em in a panoply of recipes. We had lentil soup, lentil burgers, and lentil loaf. I made pork and beans without the pork, and ham and split pea soup without the ham. If it was a cheap dried bean, I bought it: kidney, pinto, navy, lentil, pea, garbanzo, black. I learned that beans plus whole grains equal complete protein, just like potatoes plus dairy do. We had a fiber-rich, healthy diet.

After years of beans, I took a break. (Hah, hah—did you get it?) No, seriously, I got tired of beans and turned to frozen dinners, fast food, sugar, and caffeine. My waistline increased along with my perpetual state of alertness.

In recent years, I’ve turned back to beans. Hummus is a new favorite. But my all-time favorite bean now is the coffee bean. I don’t buy them whole or grind them myself. I go for variety: a different roast, blend, or brand every month. The beans worth drinking, though, are not cheap. I was reminded of that this morning.

Last week, I succumbed to the price tag and purchased an inferior blend, one of those that come in the plastic canisters. I broke it out this morning, and the first cup convinced me that spending more is worth it. There is this lingering bitter taste that feels like it is glued to the roof of my mouth. My stomach isn’t particularly happy, either. I’ll take my losses (five dollars and some odd cents) and go back to the small bags of ground beans, many of them local to the island. No more inferior beans for me.