It's confession time.
As the baby sister on this blog, I have an embarrassing childhood nickname to admit to (thanks to S, and her active childhood imagination) in order to fully explain the significance of me eating beans tonight. The nickname, in its most basic form, was, well, Bean.
More of a name replacement than a nickname in actuality, throughout the years it received variations of Beanie, Beaners, Beanalise, and perhaps the most embarrassing as thought of by my HS XC coach, Beanalicious. My grandfather used to tell me to call my sisters Asparagus and Broccoli in retaliation, but they never had quite the same ring to them.
The only positive that embarrassed-kid-version-of-me found in this family name was that it could be used to bolster my arguments against certain foods and help me stubbornly hang on to my pickiness. If any form of bean were set in front of me, I would say"I can't eat that, it's cannibalism!" quite smugly.
I'm hear to share is because I, Beanalise, not only consumed beans tonight (gasp!) but also cooked them for myself.
Of course, this recipe and trying of beans was not my own doing, like most of the dishes that have led to the demise of my finicky habits. (such as the salad my grandmother made me my freshman year of college), but was Katelyn's. I won't say that I am a fully converted bean-eater just yet, but this Bean has both spilled the (nickname) beans and eaten them. This dish is perfectly fresh, bright, flavorful, and filling.
(The simplicity of this recipe means I am going to share it in an equally simple form, as well as give an insight into how recipe sharing goes in this family- quick text messages about that-one-time-you-made-beans-and-I-actually-ate-them. Here's a screen shot, ha)
As the baby sister on this blog, I have an embarrassing childhood nickname to admit to (thanks to S, and her active childhood imagination) in order to fully explain the significance of me eating beans tonight. The nickname, in its most basic form, was, well, Bean.
More of a name replacement than a nickname in actuality, throughout the years it received variations of Beanie, Beaners, Beanalise, and perhaps the most embarrassing as thought of by my HS XC coach, Beanalicious. My grandfather used to tell me to call my sisters Asparagus and Broccoli in retaliation, but they never had quite the same ring to them.
The only positive that embarrassed-kid-version-of-me found in this family name was that it could be used to bolster my arguments against certain foods and help me stubbornly hang on to my pickiness. If any form of bean were set in front of me, I would say"I can't eat that, it's cannibalism!" quite smugly.
I'm hear to share is because I, Beanalise, not only consumed beans tonight (gasp!) but also cooked them for myself.
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| it helps that the beans were in this delicious dish |
Of course, this recipe and trying of beans was not my own doing, like most of the dishes that have led to the demise of my finicky habits. (such as the salad my grandmother made me my freshman year of college), but was Katelyn's. I won't say that I am a fully converted bean-eater just yet, but this Bean has both spilled the (nickname) beans and eaten them. This dish is perfectly fresh, bright, flavorful, and filling.
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