I Dream So Beanie!

I had friends over for brunch this weekend and had planned a veritable feast with which to regale them. Among the various menu items, I’d included baked beans. I’m French Canadian so the idea of a brunch that wouldn’t include beans is simply unacceptable. However, if you’ve ever made baked beans, you’ll appreciate that this is not a quick endeavour. It involves much soaking and boiling and baking (oh my!). I bought the beans first thing on Saturday morning and was expecting my guests at 11am on Sunday. Piece of cake, right? Well, sort of.

Complicating my plan was the fact that my parents, oblivious to my needs, had gallivanted off to Europe on a hiking expedition. Which was great for them and all but what about my beans? I wouldn’t have expected my mom to bake them on my behalf (although I probably wouldn’t have turned her down if she’d offered) but it would have been nice to have her considerable coaching skills no further away than a phone call. Without my “Ma” to reassure me, I was adrift in a sea of beanie possibilities.

I came home from the grocery store and set the beans a-soaking. That much I could handle. I debated making a traditional batch of beans including either salt pork or bacon or the revised version my mom came up with when two of her three daughters became vegetarians (those days are over but the modified beans live on). Fearlessly, considering the lack of safety net, I opted for the traditional kind. You know, the kind I’ve never made. Phone calls to my sisters proved fruitless – while both supported the idea of beans, neither could help with the reality. Finally, I called my grandmother to save the day and, not content to provide me with one recipe, she called me back with a choice of six and gave me her sound counsel on how to work with the pork part of the picture. Thanks Grand-mere!

I followed the recipe she’d given me adding molasses, brown sugar, dry mustard, salt pepper and bacon to the mixture and put everything in the slow cooker to cook overnight. As a final touch, I laid three strips of bacon over the top of the beans so that the fat could seep through. (As one of the former pesky vegetarians who’d required the recipe modification in the first place, I find it as difficult to read that sentence as I found the action on Saturday). I turned on the slow cooker and set the alarm for 5AM when the beans would be done and then headed off to bed. As I lay there, trying to fall asleep, the smell of baking beans filled the air of our apartment. I tossed and turned with visions of fatty bacon filling my head. I could have agonized over the potatoes still to roast or the quiches to assemble. I could have saved some of my neurotic fixations for the salad but I did not. Instead, I lay there and dreamed of beans.

In my dreamy haze, I tried to talk myself out of what was clearly a waste of a good night’s sleep: “Self, if the beans don’t taste right, you don’t have to serve them.” Or “Self, you are nuts and I’m having you committed if you don’t stop thinking about those beans and go to sleep now!” I woke up every hour and would dazedly wander over to the kitchen to see what was happening. Were the beans burning? (No, not yet.) Would the bacon ruin them? (Hard to tell through the slow cooker’s steamy lid.) I rationalized that the smell was very much like I remembered the smell of baking beans so that had to be a good sign. Still, at 5am, it was a relief to turn off the beans and call the night over.

The rest of the brunch got made and by the time my guests arrived I was so hungry that there was no energy left for worrying about beans. We downed Bellinis by the gallon-full, gorged ourselves on quiche, salad, roasted potatoes, delicious, homemade baked beans and a sensational lemon tart contributed by one of the guests. It was divine! My guests left yesterday, almost eight hours after brunch had begun, drunk, full and happy. I may have foolishly lost a night’s sleep over beans, but the reward of sharing the fruits (or, in this case, legumes) of my labour with a group of good friends made it all worth it in the end. Here's to beans!