A couple of months after moving to rural Andalucía, in my desperation for heat – chillies, not sunshine, though both were in short supply that February – I developed a powerful craving for chilli con carne. My chilli, I should say, not the sloppy kind. Dryish, properly spiced, the sort that tastes even better the next day.
In England, red kidney beans come in tins of every conceivable size, cooked and ready to go. Rural Andalucía is not quite so straightforward. I did eventually find dried kidney beans, and it is a simple enough task to soak them overnight and then hard-boil for a full hour — which destroys the toxins and softens the beans. I soaked the entire one-kilogram bag, cooked what I needed, and froze the rest. Being organised, I labelled the freezer bag clearly: Soaked kidney beans – NOT boiled.
The craving returned in early February during the rainy season. I found the bag in the freezer, prepared my chilli the day before — because chilli, like curry, always tastes better the next day — and added the beans when reheating. I didn't want mushy beans, after all.
About a third of the way through eating my rather fine, rather hot chilli, I noticed the beans were a little on the crunchy side. Two thirds of the way through, the penny dropped. I rushed to the kitchen, found the freezer bag, and read my own handwriting.
A quick search confirmed I would be violently sick within two to three hours.
I was. For the next forty-eight hours.
Five months passed before I could face a kidney bean again. When I finally did, it was in a tuna and bean salad — pre-cooked beans from a jar, naturally — eaten cautiously in the sunshine. It tasted good. Good enough, in fact, that the beans made a second appearance at supper the same day.
The tuna and bean salad has since become a summer lunchtime favourite. Drained kidney beans, good tinned tuna, finely chopped red onion, fresh flat-leaf parsley, and the best extra virgin olive oil you can find. Nothing else needed. Eat outside if at all possible.
Footnote: Find more recipes and food adventures here.
Wonky photos, proper food, genuine adventures – The Flexible Chef
