Last Saturday I decided, on the rarest of whims, to cook up a big pot of “white beans.” That’s what my grandmother called them, and when I was a kid I loved those things. Several years ago I tried to re-create them, and it took weeks of experimentation before I got close. And once I finally nailed it… I quit. I guess it’s all about the hunt?
So, last week I was starting from scratch again. And it was an utter disaster. The whole thing turned to paste. My mother told me I cooked them too “hard.”
She also asked if I bought navy beans, or great northerns. And when I told her I’d opted for the northerns, she practically gasped. Apparently I was in violation of some code? I’m unclear. But she told me to NEVER buy northerns, and ALWAYS go with navy. In four months I will have forgotten that again, and the cycle of bean-themed heartache will repeat itself once more.
The house smelled great, though. It smelled like 1976 at my grandmother’s place, and my mouth was watering in anticipation. And what did I get? I big ol’ pot of refried beans, whiteish in color. It was disgusting. I practically needed a trowel to transfer them to a plate. I guess they tasted OK, but the consistency was ridiculous. Toney and the younger boy picked at them, so as not to hurt my feelings. But I could tell their hearts weren’t in it. I mean, it was a colorless glob. We could’ve repaired plaster with that shit.
But I’m thinking about giving it another shot tomorrow. Learn from my mistakes, and see what happens… I’ll keep you updated.
Have you ever attempted to re-create some beloved dish from your youth, without a recipe or anything? How did it go? And how many attempts did it take, before you got close? Please tell me about it in the comments.
And do you see how screwed up my life is? This would be a perfect Monday update, and Monday’s would’ve been better here. Everything’s a shambles, my friends.
But we’ll give it another try next week.
Have a great weekend!