Do you know beans about beans?

Do you remember the phrase "you don't know beans about ...?" Today, and ever since Christmas, when we were given a package of heirloom beans from Rancho Gordo, we've been discovering that we don't know beans about beans. Earlier today we were poking around and discovered a Northern Minnesota source for some heirloom bean seeds. We think we learned last Spring, when we were planning to plant a three sisters garden, something about the differences between bush (not a good fit for a three sisters planting) and pole (the kind that uses corn stalks to climb) beans.

Then there's the whole beans, legumes, and pulses classification scheme. Who knew? Well, obviously those who've been paying more attention than we have. Our limits were rapidly approached once we had distinguished between Boston baked beans, which came in and from cans, and dried beans which went into soups and stews. We're currently trying to discern if we're in the process of eating the seed beads, and how one can tell if a dried bean is plantable.

a pot of red beans cooking

Photo by J. Harrington

From what we can discover with our searches of the internets the past few days, Minnesota doesn't know beans about how reliant the state is on outside sources of food. The only real examples we've found so far focus on Northern Minnesota's Native Americans' efforts toward food sovereignty. That's progress, but since agriculture is such a large sector of Minnesota's economy, knowing how much we can feed ourselves is likely to become a more significant issue as climate breakdown affects places like California, a major source for food crops. In Minnesota, we find lots of indications of activity, but limited evidence of coordination or cooperation. Perhaps we're not yet looking in the right places?

The Bean Eaters

By Gwendolyn Brooks

They eat beans mostly, this old yellow pair.   

Dinner is a casual affair.

Plain chipware on a plain and creaking wood,   

Tin flatware.

Two who are Mostly Good.

Two who have lived their day,

But keep on putting on their clothes   

And putting things away.

And remembering ...

Remembering, with twinklings and twinges,

As they lean over the beans in their rented back room that is full of beads and receipts and dolls and cloths, tobacco crumbs, vases and fringes.

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