Monday, October 18, 2010

The Last of the Rosy Beans

I accidentally grew some beautiful red beans this year.

Let me 'splain.

I got the seed at some remainders/seconds store here in the Salem of the South. Once the coveted haricots started bearing their slender spears of delight, I planted these red beans in the Italian garden. For some reason, I thought they were Kentucky Wonders.

Imagine my surprise when the beans that were left a couple of days too long on the plants started getting red streaks on their wide backs.


I finally--after harvesting two messes of them--checked the box of seeds to look for the package. Rosa, they are called. Italian flat beans that eventually turn completely red on the outside. The inside is a big white bean with red streaks.

I've saved seed for those and the haricots, also this year's super prolific okra.

We ate the last of those rosy beans tonight, alongside some tender pork steaks cooked in red wine, with mushrooms.


  1. Byron and Peg, I do so enjoy this blog! As Byron knows, I'm the worst kind of back-pew pagan, very seldom making it to A'ville for a ritual or a party, more of a meditator than a cast-er, nonexistent psychic knack...but one place my paganism comes out every day is through food. Whether it's the farmer's market, the garden, the cooking, the preserving, the quest for local sources, the composting, or the fraught question of whether tofu from California leaves more ecological footprint than Warren Wilson beef, the source of life is everyday-sacred. And I love to cook it, eat it, think about it, read about it: so, thank you, kitchen witches! Lovely blog. And, Byron, I hope we'll make nettle soup this coming spring.


  2. Thanks, Catherine! Gosh, I miss you.