Magical beans that last a year
A Writer’s Urban Garden
Before the pandemic, my husband and I would pack up and escape gray, slushy Pittsburgh each January for a long vacation. This is how we ended up at the Sante Fe Farmers Market one cold Saturday morning standing before a small, elderly woman in a worn wool coat and jeans.
She seemed to want to sell and not sell us packets of beans. They were environmentally helpful, she explained. They stood up to drought and pests. Zuni Gold, she called them.
We nodded our heads, enthusiastic for the beans. They were a deep mustard yellow with white spots. The tiny seed packets had
called my name from across the building. Her table had no sign, no samples, no pizazz like the green chile pepper stands or the tables lined with blue corn doughnuts with lavender frosting and dried posole mix.
We said yes, we’d like to buy some beans. She nodded slowly, but then started talking to the people in line behind us. Perhaps we weren’t trying hard enough ( or maybe trying too hard?) to buy these shiny, alluring beans. At any rate, we tried harder and eventually walked away with packets of beans in our pockets, feeling a little foolish even though we hadn’t traded a cow for them.
And although “Jack and the Beanstalk” is a fable, when Jack trades his cow for a hat full of beans, you totally understand the deal if you’re a gardener. When his mother throws the beans out the window in a fit of rage and they sprout overnight into a huge beanstalk, it’s no surprise.
Beans are that way — magical. You plant them and then they sprout and climb whatever is nearby. When the pumpkins are being temperamental and the Swiss chard has bolted, stick a single bean in some dirt and you experience a kind of enchantment.
Zuni Gold, also called Four Corners Gold, is a small, nutty-tasting heirloom variety found mainly in the southwest, although it seems right at home here in my South Side garden. Every year, I set up a teepee of very tall bamboo poles that they wrap around. I let the green pods dry on the stalks as summer moves into fall and when they’re crispy brown, I harvest them to cook with throughout the winter, saving some dried beans to grow again next year. This is where Jack also made a good deal — beans are forever.
This year, I’m also growing some beautiful and prolific Monte Gusto yellow pole beans. I pick about a pound a day. Some people hand out zucchinis. I give half-pound bags of beans to anyone who comes near my house. I also cook with them nearly every night. I’ve been exploring Joshua McFadden’s marvelous seasonal vegetable-focused cookbook, “Six Seasons: A New Way With Vegetables,” and his recipes have saved me from legume monotony.
I’ve tried Roasted String Beans and Scallions with Pine Nut Vinaigrette, Grilled Wax and Green Beans with Tomatoes, Basil and Spicy Fish Sauce, and Crunchy Mixed-Bean Salad with Celery and Tarragon, just to name three. I’ve also pickled dilly beans and eaten beans raw, straight from the vine, standing in the garden staring out at the view from my perch on the Slopes.
This year’s bean explosion is how I came to throwing them on the grill for a quick and tasty dish. A glutton for beans, I have a second round of Monte Gusto beanstalks curling up some posts, about to start producing. Two other bean cages are still climbing with stalks, beans dangling like pretty pale yellow earrings every morning, waiting for me to pluck them free.