15 grams of protein. 6-12 grams of insoluble fiber. 4-5 g of soluble fiber. Plus vitamins and minerals, particularly potassium.
These all come from a one cup serving of cooked dry beans. The amounts of different nutrients vary based on the type of beans under discussion: black beans and kidney beans are very rich in iron, while lentils are a very good source of molybdenum and folate.
But we all knew this, right? Beans are healthy, beans are cheap, we should all eat more beans. Clearly nobody needs to hear any of this information again. Remind me why I thought this post was a good idea?
Oh. This is why. On average, a given American eats less than six pounds of beans in a year. That's about forty cups of beans annually, significantly less than a cup per week. We're all concerned about the burgeoning problems with cardiovascular disease, obesity, living wage, you name it--and we eat maybe a cup of beans in a week? Nonsense, I say! Balderdash, I proclaim! We can all do better, I aver! And so we shall, if I have anything to do with it.
After I got married, however, economics demanded that I find a way around this aversion. I'd already taught myself to like mushrooms (true facts: I was motivated by a desire to identify more closely with hobbits), so I had some idea where to start: since my main aversion to beans was to the texture, I could simply eat foods with beans in them and swallow said beans whole. This is easier to do with black beans or navy beans than pintos or kidneys, but it can be done. There was a period of about a year when I ate chili or baked beans without chewing at all.
In the mean time I also came at the problem from the other direction: altering the texture of said beans. I could stand and even enjoy hummus, and refried beans were also tasty. I found that lentils disappear almost completely into a curry. With these tolerances as a starting point I could gradually work my way toward beanier and beanier textures: less than perfectly smooth refried beans, sneaking a few very small white beans into a soup, a curry that was bulked up with a ton of lentils instead of just a few. Over time I found that I could even (prepare yourself) bite into a bean without gagging. I was as shocked as you. And then, as I learned more about bean preparation and what makes a good batch of beans, I even found that I could enjoy beans.
If you're like me and enjoy cooking large batches to save work, you'll probably already be planning a day's cook by the evening before; putting some beans in a bowl of water is a fairly painless addition to this routine. I'll also make more than my chili or stew strictly requires so that I will have some "emergency beans" ready to drop into nachos or mush up and add to the farce for meatloaf. When I'm soaking for the next day's cooking, I'll generally add something to the soaking liquid to help speed the mitigation of phytic acid: some 'bucha, perhaps, or a little whey from a container of yogurt. L. Acidophilus knows that phytic acid is nobody's friend, so it goes to work straightaway and greatly accelerates the breakdown of this anti-nutrient.
Come cooking time, I highly recommend giving it all the time it can possibly want. Lectins, an inflammatory and disease-causing plant substance, are destroyed by even a brief boil, but undercooked beans don't digest well so you lose a lot of that fiber, protein and nutrition we've been working so hard to retain. Drain the soaking water (it may still contain some phytic acid), add your liquid (it doesn't have to be water) and put it on the stove at a simmer.
I almost always cook beans in bone broth. For one thing, it helps the taste, giving the beans a meaty presence they otherwise lack. It also adds to their nutritional value and digestibility, plus being anti-inflammatory in nature. They benefit (at least in terms of flavor and texture) from some added fat, so if I don't have trimmings from a couple of pork chops or drippings from a roasted chicken available I'll add a couple of tablespoons of rendered lard or even a little olive oil or canola oil. They help give the finished beans a creamy texture. Often I'll drop in a bay leaf, and depending on the intended use I might add a dried chili pod. Some salt, perhaps some pepper, and then they get to simmer as long as they like. It won't do to rush them. When a bean squishes easily between a spoon and the side of the pan, they're done. I'll add them, liquid and all, to my batch of soup or curry, perhaps saving a cup or three for later as previously mentioned.
All that being said. You don't need bone broth, herbs, spices or even fat to cook good beans. With a proper soaking and a long, gentle boil, perhaps a little salt and a diced onion if available, you can prepare perfectly good dry beans to stretch that soup, mush into your meatball mixture or stir into cooked rice for the frugal classic staple. A tablespoon of bean puree can add nutrition and fiber to your bowl of tomato soup for lunch, or a much larger amount can disappear into the cheese sauce for a dish of macaroni or scalloped potatoes. You'll stay fuller, longer. Your digestive tract will work more efficiently. And you'll be able to get by with fewer of the more expensive ingredients.
These all come from a one cup serving of cooked dry beans. The amounts of different nutrients vary based on the type of beans under discussion: black beans and kidney beans are very rich in iron, while lentils are a very good source of molybdenum and folate.
But we all knew this, right? Beans are healthy, beans are cheap, we should all eat more beans. Clearly nobody needs to hear any of this information again. Remind me why I thought this post was a good idea?
Oh. This is why. On average, a given American eats less than six pounds of beans in a year. That's about forty cups of beans annually, significantly less than a cup per week. We're all concerned about the burgeoning problems with cardiovascular disease, obesity, living wage, you name it--and we eat maybe a cup of beans in a week? Nonsense, I say! Balderdash, I proclaim! We can all do better, I aver! And so we shall, if I have anything to do with it.
Why Don't People Eat Beans?
I can't speak for everyone, but I can give anecdotal evidence based on my own experience, and the two main reasons I've found are 1. Beans don't taste that good and 2. Folk are unsure how to prepare them.Taste
I've been guilty of this and have found quite a few people who feel the same: an absolute inability to eat beans. I would smell chili and think it smelled fantastic, and the first beany bite would be gagged down with many a grimace; a second bite was seldom attempted. For me it was the texture. The beans always seemed mushy, mealy, their skins unpleasant and their insides more so. I just couldn't abide them.After I got married, however, economics demanded that I find a way around this aversion. I'd already taught myself to like mushrooms (true facts: I was motivated by a desire to identify more closely with hobbits), so I had some idea where to start: since my main aversion to beans was to the texture, I could simply eat foods with beans in them and swallow said beans whole. This is easier to do with black beans or navy beans than pintos or kidneys, but it can be done. There was a period of about a year when I ate chili or baked beans without chewing at all.
In the mean time I also came at the problem from the other direction: altering the texture of said beans. I could stand and even enjoy hummus, and refried beans were also tasty. I found that lentils disappear almost completely into a curry. With these tolerances as a starting point I could gradually work my way toward beanier and beanier textures: less than perfectly smooth refried beans, sneaking a few very small white beans into a soup, a curry that was bulked up with a ton of lentils instead of just a few. Over time I found that I could even (prepare yourself) bite into a bean without gagging. I was as shocked as you. And then, as I learned more about bean preparation and what makes a good batch of beans, I even found that I could enjoy beans.
Preparation
To start with, a major obstacle to most people's bean preparation is the soaking that beans require. It means you have to realize, as many as twelve hours in advance, that you're soon going to be consuming beans and that you need to start soaking them now. There are methods that are intended to shorten this cooking time (like the boil-rest-cook "Quick Soak Method" espoused by Bittman) but I don't recommend it. soaking doesn't just reduce cooking time and improve final texture--a good soaking of 8 hours or longer dissolves and mitigates phytic acid in the beans, making more of their nutrients bio-available. A shortened soak time leaves phytic acid in the beans, so that they (and the other foods you eat with them) provide less than the intended amount of nutritional benefit.If you're like me and enjoy cooking large batches to save work, you'll probably already be planning a day's cook by the evening before; putting some beans in a bowl of water is a fairly painless addition to this routine. I'll also make more than my chili or stew strictly requires so that I will have some "emergency beans" ready to drop into nachos or mush up and add to the farce for meatloaf. When I'm soaking for the next day's cooking, I'll generally add something to the soaking liquid to help speed the mitigation of phytic acid: some 'bucha, perhaps, or a little whey from a container of yogurt. L. Acidophilus knows that phytic acid is nobody's friend, so it goes to work straightaway and greatly accelerates the breakdown of this anti-nutrient.
Come cooking time, I highly recommend giving it all the time it can possibly want. Lectins, an inflammatory and disease-causing plant substance, are destroyed by even a brief boil, but undercooked beans don't digest well so you lose a lot of that fiber, protein and nutrition we've been working so hard to retain. Drain the soaking water (it may still contain some phytic acid), add your liquid (it doesn't have to be water) and put it on the stove at a simmer.
I almost always cook beans in bone broth. For one thing, it helps the taste, giving the beans a meaty presence they otherwise lack. It also adds to their nutritional value and digestibility, plus being anti-inflammatory in nature. They benefit (at least in terms of flavor and texture) from some added fat, so if I don't have trimmings from a couple of pork chops or drippings from a roasted chicken available I'll add a couple of tablespoons of rendered lard or even a little olive oil or canola oil. They help give the finished beans a creamy texture. Often I'll drop in a bay leaf, and depending on the intended use I might add a dried chili pod. Some salt, perhaps some pepper, and then they get to simmer as long as they like. It won't do to rush them. When a bean squishes easily between a spoon and the side of the pan, they're done. I'll add them, liquid and all, to my batch of soup or curry, perhaps saving a cup or three for later as previously mentioned.
All that being said. You don't need bone broth, herbs, spices or even fat to cook good beans. With a proper soaking and a long, gentle boil, perhaps a little salt and a diced onion if available, you can prepare perfectly good dry beans to stretch that soup, mush into your meatball mixture or stir into cooked rice for the frugal classic staple. A tablespoon of bean puree can add nutrition and fiber to your bowl of tomato soup for lunch, or a much larger amount can disappear into the cheese sauce for a dish of macaroni or scalloped potatoes. You'll stay fuller, longer. Your digestive tract will work more efficiently. And you'll be able to get by with fewer of the more expensive ingredients.
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