Yesterday’s Beans
Beans headlined my last-minute grocery list.
Elbows flared, an older man blocked my way. His stance was wide, his reach, long. He radiated ownership, as if these were his beans, and he examined each one, stem to tail.
I needed two handfuls, pronto.
Ragged shorts, crumpled canvas hat, one tube sock at half-mast—he didn’t look like a chef. Those focused hands might have belonged to an eccentric composer seeking the lost chord: the epitome of crunch, sweetness, savor. Shine.
I headed for Dairy, impatient yet curious. Was Mr. Persnickety entertaining a V.I.P.? Perhaps he was painting a still life, in oils, and he needed fresh props.
When I circled back, The Green Bean Guy was gone.
Today
Unable to forget TGBG, I wrote about him, then googled “idioms, beans.”
“(S)he doesn’t know beans” dates back to the early 1800s.
This felt personal. I waited for insight, or memory, any garden-variety gem . . .
Several years ago I cruised Produce with my father-in-law. Pressed for time, I power-walked aisles, bagged fruits and veges with only a cursory glance. Dad obliged my pace, albeit reluctantly.
“You’re very efficient,” he said, then added: “I love all those colors and good smells. And the free samples. I learn a lot from other shoppers, too.”
Dad was my mother-in-law’s caregiver for years. I looked at him with new appreciation. Amid multiple heart wrenching tasks, he had sustained their health (and perhaps his soul) by finding delight in a common, weekly errand.
Sunday
In his sermon, Pastor Eric said this:
The food we savor is one of the great sacred signs of the coming kingdom of God.
Dad’s with God now. Had we shopped that day at his joyous, leisurely pace, what might I have learned about him? And about God’s unhurried ways?
I might have gleaned lasting kingdom wisdom from The Green Bean Guy, too, perhaps a gourmet, or a Master Gardener.
Someday soon
Next grocery trip, I plan to loiter, strike up a conversation or two. Immerse in earthy delights.
Recipe: “Taste and see . . .”
Recipe: “Bean’s Vege-medley
2 handfuls of green beans, sliced, ends trimmed
1/2 c. fresh mushrooms, coarsely chopped
1/4 red pepper, sliced thinly
1 T. olive oil (or roasted sesame oil)
1 T. wheat-free Tamari sauce
1 T. rice vinegar
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
roasted sunflower seeds for garnish
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Combine liquid ingredients in bowl. Add veges and toss. Roast 15+ minutes, stirring occasionally. Taste for doneness. Garnish with sunflower seeds.
Sometimes the unexplained needs of strangers or those we love compel us to wait our turn—often, when we’re on a mission. What will we do?
Recipe Kleinerized from “Cristina’s Roasted Green Beans,” The Abascal Way to Quiet Inflammation.
Is it coincidence or a beacon to me that my retired husband has been craving green beans?..
Pretty sure it’s a coinci-con, or perhaps a bea-cidence? Give that boy his beans! Love you, sis!!!
vbg!
and a vbgbtyf
While on vaca in NY with my sister in law we had many, many conversations about ‘eating clean’ (she is a plant-based eater a.k.a. vegan). We went to their local CSA farm the second to the last day we were there and picked green beans and peas.
We ate the green beans for our last meal the night before we left….they were stir fried with garlic scapes (also from the CSA) and absolutely delicious.
She definitely savors her food–I can learn from that as well.
(and your pastor’s quote about food? I’ve been noticing that several food bloggers I like speak to the soul of food as much as the nourishment it brings us. Soul food 🙂
thank you! (and thanks for the recipe!
The Last Supper (of Green Beans)! Oh how inspiring to talk and then shop and feast with your vegan sister-in-law. I must learn what garlic “scapes” are. I’m not familiar with that term. We’ve been eating super clean these past three weeks to see if we can reduce inflammation and live more pain-free. Tomorrow I can add in one food and see how I fare.
I too love this idea of soul food savor, if possible, every day! Thanks for your encouragement to keep after it!