Anxiety Beans
I think the most daunting part of moving for me, besides the crippling anxiety and disorientation that comes with being in a new place, is not having any food in the house. I just moved to Brooklyn 3 days ago and basically all I’ve done is go to the grocery store. I didn’t come empty handed of course, I brought all my reclaimed spices and seasonings I had acquired while living at home, much to the surprise of my mother who was confronted with the realization that it wasn’t the soy sauce fairy restocking the pantry staples this whole time.
I’m in that weird in-between phase where I’ve just moved and I don’t have a job or a real schedule yet, so I just complete general “moving in” tasks, see friends when they’re free, and feed myself. After eating takeout for the first 2 days, I finally broke. I needed something hearty and homemade. Brothy beans. Alison Roman style. Maybe its because I’d been seeing them all over Instagram lately, or because it’d been raining since the morning I’d moved in, or because I thought that maybe (just maybe) if I simmered my beans long enough I could turn into Alison Roman, but it was non negotiable, I needed those beans.
I know she’s controversial, but she took my brothy bean-ginity. She introduced me to the idea that I, a mere mortal, could cook with dry beans and not just the beans from a can. I don’t condone the shabby chic brand of co-opting other culture’s traditional foods and cooking methods without crediting them or even acknowledging their existence. But, admittedly, whether or not I make these beans does not make or break the titan that is Alison Roman. What can I say, sometimes you’re just nostalgic for your first.
I watched the Youtube video about 3 times, browning the aromatics, adding the liquid; does she put the lid on to simmer? I rewound at least twice to find out. I wanted them exactly as she made it in the video, even though she stresses it's more of a template than a strict recipe. I wanted the certainty of eating something she’d eat herself.
With only hand me down stainless steel pots at my disposal and the ingredients I had hastily picked up from the store, I got to work. Brown the aromatics, add the beans, add the liquid, bring to a boil, cover?? Rewind the video, simmer without lid. She says around 2 hours in the video, but It took me closer to 3. As I rounded the 2 hour mark I began to panic. She mentions in the video that sometimes the beans never cook. They could fail to reach their edible, brothy potential all together, and you might’ve just wasted 3 hours of your life simmering to no avail. And then what? More takeout?? Please no.
Then I began to feel dumb. Why would I put all my stock in this one dish that might not even work out? All my eggs in one basket, all my beans in one pot. My roommate had left for a movie just after I’d added liquid to the pot. What if she got back and these things still weren’t ready? Then I'd have to answer questions like “you STILL haven’t eaten those beans??” I had felt this way the last time I made this dish. It took the beans way longer to soften than Roman had stated in the video and I felt ridiculous for putting so much time and effort into food that might not even be edible in the end. But when all was said and done, the beans had been simmered to perfection, and I couldn’t believe what vegetables and water had turned into with time, patience, and a little panic. Maybe I was after that feeling, prolonged uncertainty only to be reassured at the last possible moment. What if I sunk all this time and money into this move and my beans never soften?
Why move to Brooklyn without a job? Why start a blog surely no one besides my mom and boyfriend will read? Why simmer beans for 3 hours if you’re not absolutely positive they’re going to turn out the way you want? One reason: Because Alison Roman said so. Okay that’s clearly not it because she didn’t tell me to do those first two things, but there is something about following a recipe that’s comforting to me in times of stress and uncertainty. Even one like this, that’s not one hundred percent guaranteed, but then none of them are really guaranteed. You could leave the beans simmering too long and forget to add liquid, you could burn the shit out of your aromatics, but if you take the time and care, you’ll end up with something delicious (almost guaranteed). Not to be all “it’s all about the journey” but also, it kind of is (sorry). All I can do is follow the recipe to the best of my ability and hope it turns out alright. That’s what I’ve been doing so far, and whaddaya know: beans.
