Babies, Beans, and Bunny Sanchez
There’s not many challenges I shy away from, in life or in the kitchen, but dry beans are one of those challenges that seemed impossible—a technical challenge I was never fully prepared for. Picking the correct kind, soaking them—the slowness of it all—made it feel like me and beans were just not meant to be. Twenty-something-year-old me lacked the patience and the finesse. Since then, I’ve often thought how nice it would be to be the kind of woman who can make a killer pot of beans from a bag of seemingly dry rocks, but the few times I’ve tried it has ended in utter failure. Fast forward a decade and add two kids. Maybe now I am the woman who can tackle this mystery. Having children has pulled from me a deep patience I never knew I possessed, and has forced me to slow down—which made me think if I can have two kids, I can make a pot of beans, damn it.
Insert a friendship that’s born of wine, good hair, and a slight awe (on my part) of her mystical vibe. Bunny Sanchez with her instagram-worthy meals…made with beans. She makes it look so effortless and filling, leaving me to wonder, “What am I missing?”
When you have a newborn, time stands still. You’re in a seemingly endless fog of baby snuggles, nursing, and not enough sleep. Now add a toddler to the mix, and you get an entirely new experience of a world in between—a world simultaneously spinning and standing still. With my head in the fog and time on my hands, I decided to give dry beans another go. While documenting my journey into hopeful bean heaven, I learned a lot about where I had been going wrong in the past. My main takeaway is all of the ingredients added—matter. Picking some rando beans to be the star of your dish just won’t do. If you want spectacular flavor you better pick a quality bean. This is not unlike a nice cut of meat or a good glass of wine, not everything is created equal and that also goes for beans. I followed the recipe from the first blog post of FRANK and used a Rancho Gordo bean. I recommend you do the same. They were far superior to any bean dish I’ve eaten. I used fresh herbs but not very much, a few sprigs of thyme from our garden and a very tiny sprig of fresh rosemary. The lemon we used was a dud, making the bean broth’s aftertaste a tad on the bitter side (baking soda helped). Overall I was pleasantly surprised with the process and outcome. The beans were delicious! With fresh, warm, crusty bread, it was obvious that this could become a household staple. What a simple pleasure.
I found the patience that was needed was not nearly as daunting as I had made it seem all those years ago—especially when you don’t have to presoak! It seemed like it was all about timing. If you’re on the fence I say, go for it. Do it on a slow day, when you feel like eating something simple and delightfully delicious. Maybe your house is clean and the air outside is crisp. Maybe you light some candles for the ultimate Hygge vibe and turn on some good tunes. Or maybe you’re like me, where the kitchen is a mess and your hands are full of babies, but you still are up for a change and a challenge. Maybe my real takeaway is this: it’s always a good time for beans.
Submit your bean related essays, thoughts, conspiracies, and/or poem and pair it with a (plant based) recipe…or not. Selected pieces will be published on Frank Substack; authors will receive our deepest gratitude, praise, accolades, and a bag of beans.
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