In hope of reincarnation as a bean

What would you want to come back as? I’d want to come back as a broad bean. But any bean would do. Here's why. Plus three recipes for beans.

Hello you lovely lot. This is my monthly Tale - a story from life in the veg patch - which is free to all subscribers. This time, an essay and three recipes from the bean chapter of my cookbook, From the Veg Patch.

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Imagine for a moment that you were about to be reincarnated.

What would you want to come back as? I’d want to come back as a vegetable. No surprises there. Specifically, I’d want to come back as a broad bean.

Think about it. As a youngster, you’re snuggled up in a velvety pod against the chilly spring nights. Adulthood brings the gentle warmth of late May. And before you know it, June arrives and you end your days willingly engulfed by the sweetest shallot vinaigrette and served up to adoring fans at the first al fresco lunch of the summer. Oh yes, you could do far worse than to spend your existence as a broad bean.

That said, a runner bean would come a close second.

Though it would be an altogether different life. A runner bean has just one mission: to monopolise the beanpoles as quickly as possible, pausing only to flower energetically before snapping the conquered beanpoles under the weight of its harvest. You would be resolute, fast and strong if you came back as a runner bean. And your legacy would be assured too, preserved in piccalilli jars and reached for by greedy hands yearning for your fresh, green crunch in the depths of winter.

Yes, life as a bean would be a blessed life.

I grow them all – broad, French, runner, Helda, stringless, bobby,
in green, yellow and purple; though any colour other than green turns slimy when cooked and, I think, looks better in the patch than they taste on the plate. Best eaten raw, if at all – though raw is generally how I find myself eating beans anyway. You will find no greater contentment in life than wandering through the veg patch at dusk, munching on a freshly-picked green bean, warm from the summer sun, and surveying your ramshackle bean canes.

Everyone loves a green bean.

What’s not to? But runners and broad beans divide opinion. I think that’s because the sceptics have only ever tasted old beans and been (!) put off. An overgrown runner bean may win the longest bean category at the village show, but it will also be tough, stringy and bland – no medals for taste. (Why is it that medals are never given for taste at those shows?) Similarly, an old broad bean pod, its velvety interior squashed flat by chubby, adolescent beans, will offer nothing but leathery skins and floury flesh.

Ways with beans

All beans are at their most lovable when they are young and fresh in early summer. This is the time to savour them. Young broad beans will not require double-podding yet. (By which I mean popping out of their long green pods and then removing their pale individual jackets after a brief blanching in hot water.) Toss them in a sauce for herby chicken meatballs or mix them with pesto. As they grow, pop them out of their jackets for a verdant green bruschetta topping. Other summer beans can be lavished with feta, or, better still, charred on the barbecue and dotted with goat’s cheese. All are best served with a glass of chilled rosé and a view of the bean canes.

As summer wanes, the French (green beans) and runner bean harvests, which will keep coming until October if you keep picking, offer warmer suppers. Ensconce green beans in a rich carbonara or cook runner beans slowly in a glossy tomato sauce and serve with crusty bread.

When you are forced to admit that summer is over and the bean canes are looking ragged and spent, drag the tangle of vines to the compost bin, snip off the last of the aged pods and entomb them in piccalilli, where your love will remain evergreen.

Three bean recipes

A trio of bean recipes from my cookbook

Click on the link to get the recipes:

Broad bean and ricotta bruschetta

Bean and bulgur wheat salad

Griddled held beans with goats cheese

And if you liked those, you’d probably like the other recipes in the bean chapter of my book, From the Veg Patch.