Hanging Out With The O.O.W.G., Shelling Some Damned Beans.

Once a year these cranberry beans (a.k.a. borlotti beans) come into season in Chicago. You need to hit the farmer’s market early, otherwise the pile will be thoroughly ravaged by the ancient yet robust Romanian and Bulgarian women who covet these beans. My Turkish Father, the Original Old World Gangster, starts hounding me about these beans in mid-July. Of course, he would rather I fight these tenacious ladies with my protein laden muscles. The OOWG keeps his hands clean- I do the dirty work. Even though I don’t even eat beans.

I got him 2 pound of beans and he made barbunya. (You can replace the carrots with potato if you want to do this OOWG style, otherwise the recipe is perfect). Don’t worry, it will not fit in any macro/paleo scheme. You poach these things in a shit load of olive oil, with tomatoes, garlic, onion, potato and tomatoes. They magically become creamy and and light, despite the fact that I think about .25L of olive oil is employed.

I will say this. You can make this with dried beans but nothing is as wonderful as fresh. That’s why we only make it once a year. It’s a thing in shebnation.

Lastly, if you were planning to schedule a colonic, might I gently suggest trying a serving of barbunya instead? You might be surprised at its cleansing properties.

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Pods.
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Mediterranean hands in their 10th decade.
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