Monday, March 5, 2012

Have You Picked Your Beans Today?

I was standing at my stove stirring a pot of beans awhile ago, and memories overwhelmed me. I wondered if it would be possible to count the women who have stirred the pot of beans that they were preparing for their families. Every tongue, generation, state and country would make for a lot of pinto beans.

A minister came to our church years ago and was almost brought to tears by a pot of beans that an elderly lady in the church had prepared for him. Tears stung his eyes as he talked about his boyhood. He said he was quite sure he had eaten enough pinto beans in his youth to pave a country road.  Now that's a lot of beans! I may have eaten that many myself.

In church yesterday, a sixth generation friend of mine, offered to bring a bag of beans for a benefit supper that had 'already been picked.'

Do you know what picked beans are? I wish I could ask that question in person and see how many hands went up. When I was a kid at home, Mom would take a bag of pinto beans and a big bowl and find a good chair to sit in. Then she would pick the beans.

She would carefully pick and sort and search for small rocks that used to come with the beans. Along with the dangerous little rocks that could crack a tooth, there was tiny clods of dirt. All of these would be picked out of the bowl of hard, dry pinto beans and placed in a little saucer to be thrown away.

My Aunt Fannie always seemed to have a big, cast iron pot of pinto beans on the back of her old wood cook stove. She had a big family of her own to feed, but there was always room along her home made table for nieces and nephews. One side of her table had a long bench that ran all the way down the side to wall of her kitchen. That's where the kids always lined up for her tasty food. The sisters-in-laws would help out by peeling a huge bowl of potatoes. How in the world they ever peeled enough potatoes to feed that hungry crowd is a mystery to me. Potato peeling is one of my dreaded chores, and it takes me a long time to get enough peeled to feed my family.

When I see the aisles of canned vegetables in the grocery stores, I remember the jars of tomatoes, corn, and other veggies in the back room where Mom had canned food for the winter months when there was no garden to eat from. It is also a fact that Mom's are working at jobs to help bring in enough income to support their families. The times that it takes to cook dried beans is something they don't have the time to do.

I have a cast iron pot of beans simmering on the stove as I write this.

So ago ahead. Pick your beans and fry your tators for your family. Believe me, your kids grow up and fly away before you hardly have time to enjoy them!

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