Beans and the Modern Bachelor

About author / Josh Gunn

Bachelor chef; southern cooking; mixologist; university professor. Josh's recipes will delight (and sometimes terrify) you.

If there's a classic image of the bachelor seared into the collective American imagination, it's of some dude hunched over in a dirty, old armchair dressed in boxers and a t-shirt. He has a bad case of bed-head and he's eating—you guessed it—a can of beans (as I write this I’m having a flashback of The Who's trippy coda to "Armenia City in the Sky"---a little ditty titled "Heinz Baked Beans" that pits the working class bachelor against stuffy, upper-class tea-sippers).

You can battle anyone having this image of you when musing on your singleness by, first, not hanging around the house in your underwear; and second, by making your own, very good beans from scratch. What's especially exciting about making beans from scratch is that it's easy and very, very tasty. Moreover, they keep for a few days in the fridge, so you can enjoy them for many meals. Or, if you're like me, you can give them to your neighbors and they'll be so impressed they want to set you up with their "gran' babies." Okay, maybe a little too much information. Sorry.

Canned beans are popular because they can sit around in your cabinet for years. I saw this "scare piece" on a news program one evening years ago that warned that a chemical used in the canning process of many foods, which is apparently similar to estrogen at the uber-tiny molecular level, can cause some men to grow breasts! I think you'd have to eat nothing but canned food for a decade for that to happen, though (or quit smoking and gain a bunch of weight like I did many years ago).

No, the real problem with canned anything is that you lose some of the nutrients, and these steadily decline the longer the can stays in your pantry. Vegans everywhere will tell you that fresh is best! Heck, I even know some folks that only eat raw food; they cook pizzas in the summer by putting them out on the hot pavement, gnosh on celery all the time, wear sandals, pat on patchouli to cover-up body odor, and they don't shave neither!

Now, I suspect the majority of you loyal Dr. Bachelorheads are not ready to take "fresh" that far. And lets face it: a lot of my southern or Cajun recipes require you to cook the heck out of whatever you are making (e.g., see my smothered greens recipe). This week's bean recipe is no exception: all you're gonna be left with is flavor and fiber.

Flavor is a given goody, of course. And who doesn't need fiber? Fiber refers to the indigestible elements of plant foods that makes it easier for you to, um--you know--do your thing. Tube nutritionists all agree that fiber is good for you, but that we Americans don't really get enough of it. Fiber has been shown to improve cardiovascular health (it helps to reduce cholesterol) and even stave off some types of cancer!

Now, I know some of you who share my adolescent sense of humor are thinking something else entirely about our topic. As a wee tot I was also taught that song, "beans, beans, a musical fruit/the more you eat 'em, the more you" do that thing, you know. This week's recipe will certainly keep those little digestion critters in your large intestine busy, but just remember that despite the side effects of fiber, beans are good for you! Just try not to "report" this news when you have guests, okay?

Serves/Makes: 15

• 2 pounds dried beans (kidney or black-eyed peas work best)
• 1/2 package (1 lb size) bacon, cut into tiny bits
• 1 green bell pepper
• 1 small onion (sweet or yellow)
• 1/2 cup celery, chopped
• 2 teaspoons red wine vinegar (more if desired)
• 2 cans chicken stock
• 1 dash Cajun/Creole seasoning (like Slap Ya Mamma)
• 1 dash hot sauce
• hot white rice (optional)