Weekend Bulletin: Local Man Thaws Leftover Beans

How's that for an attention-grabbing headline, folks?  I hadn't planned, actually, on mentioning the beans again, but on Friday, I used some of the ones I'd frozen to make something so delicious, and so EASY, that I felt compelled to share.

In British detective fiction I've read, certain characters — particularly when the authors are wishing to convey destitution or a slipping to a pathetic level of existence — often resort to quick meals of what the English call beans on toast.  In our country, there is not really a tradition of bean sandwiches at all, but I can imagine that noses would be upturned at the very mention of the idea.  (I believe my littlest sister was astonished when her elementary school classmates did not share her enthusiasm for the hot-dog-and-baked-bean sandwiches she begged my mom to pack her for lunch.  Perhaps she will chime in with the complete story in the comments.)

How did this noble combination of foods acquire such an ignominious reputation?  Well, probably because most people are thinking of this sort of abomination:

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I am here to help boost the image of the humble yet nutritious and tasty bean sandwich, with the following EASY recipe.  (Well, it's super-EASY if you have the beans already prepared.  Otherwise, stick with PB&J if you're in a rush.)

Step 1: Toast a slice of sourdough bread and smear it with dijon mustard.

Step 2: Sprinkle with grated cheese — something salty and pungent

Step 3: Spoon over some heated beans (with or without ham)

That's it!  Doesn't look like much, but these were so good — hearty and rib-sticking.  And surprisingly complex, with the counterpoint between the sourness of the bread, the hotness of the mustard, the saltiness of the cheese, and the sweetness of the beans.  This counterpoint was practically Baroque — I think I'll call these Bach-ed bean sandwiches.

I'm throwing in the following picture of me and Freddy to show how similar our coloring is these days.  You can hardly tell where beard ends and Chihuahua begins:

Here's a better pic of the beard, which my aforementioned (darling and perceptive) sister said makes me look "rock star-ish": 

Maybe I do look a little like Pete Townshend from The Who:

Or maybe my sister meant that I look like Pete Townshend now:

Hmmm....