The Milagro Bean Field

I like beans, especially with bacon or ham, because they are a family dish. People who don't like them must not know how to fix them!

My mom remembers weeding beans when she was a child, and her mother would always have a pot of beans simmering at the back of the stove every Friday, when family members would stop by their house for dinner. I remember my grandma sitting at the table sorting beans one by one, and I thought she was counting them.

We lived too far away for more than a visit one week or two each year, so I like to imagine beans linking long-ago Indian ancestors through my grandma and mother through me to my son. As with most of my cooking, though, beans make him gag.

Two months ago I had an excess of energy and sprouted some beans (pinto, anasazi, and green beans) and corn kernels. My parents have always told me about growing up on farms and how their parents did things. They are long time subscribers to Farm and Country and Mother Earth. My sister and nephew are the horticulturalists in the family, and I don't even like mowing the yard. But with all the turmoil in the world and recession and dithering in Washington, I thought I should plant a garden. Within a month of my great effort, Michelle Obama put in the White House garden, so apparently we're part of trend.

In the picture you'll see the first row, back in April.