If there’s one thing I’ve learned since I’ve started cooking, it’s that you can essentially make the same thing over and over again without getting bored just by swapping out some stuff. For instance, what’s the difference between corn salad and chili? Really just the amount of corn, type and quantity of spices, and how much you smoosh it with an improper stirring utensil as you desperately try to prevent it from burning (because you didn’t use anything to prime the pan). And now thanks to the spacetime continuum, it’s just too damn late. There’s a few emoticons I should really put here, but the stupid newspaper hasn’t been upgraded for that yet.
Here’s this crappy old one, I guess: = (
Yeah, that one sucks.
::cough:: So among all of the hot-swappable foodstuffs, I’ve found that beans have the greatest impact and variety. Let’s take a look at what’s available:
Black Beans: On the smaller side, dark in color, and taste wonderful. I don’t like them.
Black-Eyed Peas: These always creep into lists of beans, but I think it’s pretty obvious that they’re peas. Besides, people tend to only eat them with ham and whatnot. That’s just gross. Did you know ham used to be inside a pig? A big old smelly, mud-rollin’, pink, hairy, fartin’ pig.
Canelli Beans: These are the beans people use when they want their food to seem fancier than a food that would have beans in it. Don’t get me wrong – these beans aren’t fancy by any stretch of the imagination. They’re just so damn bland that they’re practically invisible, and let whatever other weird sh*t is in your plate get all of the attention.
Chick Peas: Another pea. What the hell is wrong with you people? Oh well, they’re responsible for falafel. I suppose that means I can grant them honorary bean status. By the way, spellcheck wants to change “falafel” to “fella.” What a dingdong it is.
Great Northern Beans: These beans are not really great, nor particularly northern. Well, they were conjured up by American Indian farmers, but that last sentence wouldn’t have been as cool if I had taken that into account. These are sort of like Canelli beans for people with no class, only that’s probably not true. They’re probably really quite different. I just don’t care. LEAVE ME ALONE.
Kidney Beans: These are the best. Taco salads and chili should not exist without them. They’re called “kidney” beans because they’re shaped like rhododendron. Not really, but I like that word. Just look at it.
Lima Beans: I gotta be honest, these are weird. It’s like eating little green potato testicles. Delicious AF.
Pinto Beans: The basis for refried beans, these little buggers are responsible for 12% of all reported cases of spontaneous diarrhea in the United States. Sort of like how the Ford Pinto used to explode when you ran over a paperclip, these beans make you explode just for running.
You may be thinking to yourself, “Johnny, not all of these can just be swapped out,” but I’ve got two things to say about that. 1. I could take a dump in my food if I wanted to. Being about to do something and it being a good idea are not mutually exclusive, my friends… and 2. If you put enough spice into something, it won’t really matter much what that something is.
While on the surface this line of thinking may seem to negate the entire point of this article, it actually comes to one of the most important epiphanies I’ve had since beginning to analyze and try to improve my eating habits: enjoying the cooking process is way more important than enjoying the food. For me, I have to keep it entertaining. If that means switching out beans that will end up tasting identical because I have no earthly clue what I’m doing, then so be it.
Not understanding this important fact is why I’ve probably got Bagel Bite DNA floating around my squiddley-spooch, and will only partially decompose after death. Let this be a poorly-concocted lesson to you.
By Johnny Beaver