A person whose opinion I greatly respect once wrote me a letter sharing a lot of nice things, among them noting my “deep, abiding love of beans.” And let me tell you: Truer words have never been written. (I may have cried a little, too. It’s nice to be seen.)
As someone who’s dabbled in vegetarianism on and off for years, I’ve never met a bean I don’t like. They’re appropriately filling and, when seasoned well, deeply flavorful—not to mention a third of the cost of meat. While I’ve always been one to stir a can of beans into soup or use to top a tray of cheesy nachos, I really first got into making huge pots of beans—from dried, not canned—when I started living on my own in New York. I always had a job (or jobs), but let’s be honest: I’ve never stopped being on a budget.
Back then, instead of going out to dinner (which was bound to cost a lot), I started inviting friends over to eat. And that dinner was, more often than not, a pot of beans. These days, I’m not having friends over, and while I yearn for a pandemic-free reality, I’m still eating on the cheap.
It varies depending on where you shop, of course, but this meal, this gorgeous pot of beans, is the opposite of pricey. A pound of dried beans—which can easily serve four people—typically costs under $2. And for $4, you can get some alliums, a lemon, and a head of greens (whatever’s on sale). I jazz them up with dried chile, olive oil, and salt from the pantry, plus a Parm rind from the freezer (free flavor; don’t toss ’em!). I think they’re best served with crusty bread, either bought fresh (about $4, and you won’t eat the whole thing tonight) or revived from the freezer.
Belly-filling, yet easy on the bank account.
As for the beans themselves, you can of course adapt as you’d like. I tend to use cannellini, great northern, white lima, pinto, or chickpeas in a pot like this, but really, anything goes. Unless they’re very large, I rarely soak beans in advance (prehydrating overnight can shorten the cooking time, which, great, but I always forget)—but if you’d like to do it anyway, just to feel something, then follow all of Step 1.
Some like to cook beans with celery or with a huge pile of herbs, but after many (many) pots, I’ve found that these additions don’t impart that much extra flavor. Sure, if I happen to have a handful of herbs on their last legs or a few stalks of limp celery hanging in the crisper, I’ll certainly toss them into the pot. But ultimately, I like to save buying those ingredients fresh for when they can be the star of the show. And this dinner definitely stars beans. —Rebecca Firkser
Nickel & Dine is a budget column by Rebecca Firkser, assigning editor at Food52, and major bean fan. Each month, Rebecca will share an easy, flavor-packed recipe that feeds four (or just you, four times)—all for $10 or less. —The Editors
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