Extreme Cooking 101

As the old saying goes: Beans, beans they’re good for your heart. But today, I am here to dispute this well known phrase. Rather than warming my heart, my run with beans so far in Guatemala has been more of a frustrating process.

Since my new home does not include food, I headed to Antigua’s outdoor market for the first time where the prices are the cheapest. Old women sat behind baskets full of beans, tomatoes, onions and other vegetables and fruits , yelling out the prices to any passerby. I walked up to two women that had three baskets of black, red and brown beans. As I stood deciding which color bean I wanted to buy, I realized I have never cooked beans in my life nor have I ever seen anyone prepare them before. When I have decided in the past to include beans in my meal, I always buy them canned.

I asked how much it was for a pound. 5 Queztales (about 62 cents), they said. What a deal! I walked away wondering why had I never bought dried beans before. They don’t cost much and a pound can last a long time. On the way out of the market, I had my daily run in with Larry, and he instructed me on how to prepare them. First, you soak them in water overnight. Then you boil them until they are ready. Easy enough, right?

Wrong. Apparently it takes years to conquer the skill of bean cooking. I went to work in the morning, leaving my beans as they softened in water. Step one, done. I returned later and began to boil the water in a pot that I later found out was a pressure cooker, a kitchen tool I had never used before in my life. I did not have the lid correctly closed tight and I needed to place a nob on top so no air would escape. Chiky, the lady I live with told me I needed to let it boil and then wait 45 minutes as it cooks. She warned I needed to be very careful when opening because if you do it incorrectly, it will explode in your face and scald you. They should warn you before buying beans that it can be a dangerous activity.

I waited 45 minutes and returned to the kitchen, but Chiky told me the beans needed to cook 15 or 20 more minutes. 20 minutes later she said they still need more time, maybe 10 minutes. And then again, another 10 minutes. I was getting hungry and impatient and when those 10 minutes were up I was ready to open up the pressure cooker, even though she kept telling me it needed more time.

I took of the nob on top, as I thought she instructed me to do and was about to open it, when Chiky screamed, “Karen, no!” She rushed the pressure cooker over to the sink and poured colder water before opening the lid. I was lucky she was around, or else there definitely would have been a bean explosion in the kitchen. It would not have been the first. The other American girl living here painted the walls with beans her first attempt in the difficult task of bean cooking. Chiky tasted them and said, they weren’t ready. But it was 9:30, and I did not care.

After all the time put into my beans, I ended up with slightly undercooked, bland black beans. I didn’t have garlic to make them more flavorful, so I added lots of salt. The pound of beans I was so excited to last me over a week are now the dread of every meal. Ask me what I ate today, and I will tell you the same answer every time: Beans. Eggs with beans. Tomatoes and zucchini with beans. Rice with beans. Beans. Beans. And more Beans. Healthy? Yes. Enjoyable? Somewhat. Getting old? Very quickly.

I now understand the gift Goya has given to families all over America. Just by opening a can and heating the contents, you can eat flavorful, well cooked beans in minutes. Forget hour long waits for a mediocre dish, I am sticking to pre-made. So next time you open a can of beans, say Thank you Goya for saving me time and frustration!