Beany Musings









Sigh…teh pea is having a little teary moment as she putters and gets ready for Independence Day tomorrow…

As she was puttering along, she started finalizing her menu plans for the big day…Barbecued ribs from her very own pig, with peach barbecue sauce, grilled chicken with pepper and garlic, butter broiled brussels sprouts, corn muffins, potato salad, and baked beans…

It was the baked beans that brought a tear to her little green eyes…because if she is going to have baked beans on the Fourth of July, she has to put them in one of her bean pots. And, yes, she has *three* bean pots.

Granted most people don’t even have one bean pot, or if they do, they aren’t quite sure that it even is a bean pot. Her bean pots have a story, as do most of the unusual things she has lurking around the pod.

Once upon a time, before she and mr pea were even married, he took her on a road trip to meet his family who lived in Boston. His cousin Binky was graduatiing from Harvard, and the whole family was going for the event, and she got to tag along. Now, mr pea has the most adorable set of aunties ever, and she got along with them just famously.

While we were there we didn’t have a chance to do much sight seeing, owing to how busy the family was with the impending commencement festivities and all, but we did see a few sights, and at every place we went…every gift shop window, store and venue, there were bean pots. Brown, chubby adorable bean pots, and they just *enchanted* your humble legume. She *wanted* a bean pot. But, alas, they were very expensive, and all of them had some sort of saying or writing on them. Mr pea was going to break down and buy her one, because she wouldn’t shut up about them, but she couldn’t find a plain one. He wanted to know what was wrong with a bean pot that had a funny saying about beans on it, and she had to patiently explain that if she was going to cook her beans in a bean pot, she needed a plain one, not a souvenier one. Of course, he had no idea that the reason she wanted one in the first place was to cook beans in it…and he made fun of her for quite a while over that. No one cooks beans in a bean pot he says. Her tart rejoinder was to remind him that they called it “Beantown” for a reason, and they most certainly did…but, she digresses.

She never did find an unmarked beanpot during the entire visit to Boston, and she came home richer in new family, but poorer in proper bean cooking equipment.

That Christmas, a big box came for her, from Boston, and, inside were three bean pots, antiques all, and not a letter on any. There was a wee tiny bean pot…brown and tan, that would just hold enough baked beans for two. There was a middle sized bean pot…and it would hold enough for a family, plus company or a little left over for lunch. And, there was a jumbo great-granddaddy bean pot that would hold enough for a potluck supper or family runion and probably leave leftovers.

Mr pea’s Auntie Bobbie had remembered how teh pea had *loved* the bean pots, and found her some, without writing, and sent them to her so that for any bean need she might have, she would have the proper bean pot. Talk about love 🙂 Her bean pots sit in a row on the top shelf of the pantry.

Sadly, Auntie Bobbie passed away this spring, but, this pea likes to think she will be having Barbecue with us tomorrow, and a big scoop of baked beans.

Comments are closed.