Legume in C#

"What's that smell!?"

Yep. Those were the first words out of my building supe's mouth when I opened the door (he was there to fix my cable TV connection).

"Red cow beans," I told him.

He wrinkled his nose, ignored me and went about his business, which he wrapped up quite hurriedly, probably wanting to escape my apartment and the strong odor emanating from the pot on my stove as quickly as he could.

I'm a big admirer of beans, beans of all varieties, including those that are technically not really beans. Kidney beans. Pinto beans. Black beans. Butterbeans. Navy beans. Lentils. Crowder peas. Ford Hooks. Black Eyed Peas. Field peas. Limas. And whatever else there is.

Seldom do I actually get around to cooking up a pot of beans all the way from dried to table-ready. I normally just buy a can which I open, heat, and eat in five minutes. But there does come the rare moment when I decide to cook a bag of dried beans from start to finish.

I usually put in some onion, garlic, dried chili (the HOT kind), soy sauce, sesame oil, oregano, salt and pepper. It all gets quite involved and takes at least half a day. So you see why I don't do it too often.

Now, unlike my supe, I relish the smell of cooking beans. But I understand where he's coming from. They do fill the air with a slightly heavy, harsh, bitter odor. If you don't know how to disentangle the delicate, rich odors concealed therein, and to focus on each of them like the various notes in a musical chord, you are likely to respond the way my supe did.

My favorite note from the bean chord is the full, woody, oaken-like riff that comes flowing out after the beans have been cooking for at least an hour. There's something incredible rudimentary and solid about it, like thick, rough-hewn, dark-varnished hardwood beams in a hunting lodge. It's sturdy and comforting, beyond any doubt of cracking or breaking.

The absence of sweetness is a blessing. Were any there, it would give the broad richness a cloying, nauseating scent. Fortunately, beans spare me that. They stick to their proven formula and deliver time after time. A pot of beans will never give you disco, Bach, or Elvis. Maybe zydeco is their musical equal. A lot of accordion with smidgens of gospel, blue-grass, and bullfrogs croaking on cypress knees.