Rombauer writes that dried beans are “on the dull side and much like dull people respond readily to the right contacts.”
In my experience, dull people rarely react to anything; once a schmuck, always a schmuck, I say. But dried beans respond beautifully to moisture and heat. With care, these wallflowers dance on the table.
Dried beans are cheap and can be stored for a long time, but after a year they aren’t able to absorb enough moisture to be palatable. They’re also easy to cook, but it’s a matter of procedure.
On a sack of beans, you’ll find a warning stating something like, “Beans are a natural agricultural product. Despite use of modern cleaning equipment, it is not always possible to remove all foreign material. Sort and rinse beans before cooking.” This is a crucial step.
Spread the beans in a single layer on a cookie sheet and pick out everything that isn’t a bean. You’re likely to find pebbles, little clods of dirt, sticks, and stems, none of which should find your way into your mouth. Put the sorted beans in a colander and rinse them twice, then pour into a container and cover with water. Remove any beans that float. Pour the cleaned, sorted beans back into the colander to drain.
Some people hydrate beans by soaking them overnight, it takes much less time if you cover beans with water, 3:1, bring to a hard boil for five minutes then shut off, cover, and soak for an hour. I always use a flame-buster and a moderate heat when cooking beans. If you scorch a pot of beans, throw them away and start over.
Do not add salt. If you add salt in the cooking water before the beans are cooked, the skins will be tough. Salt when the beans are cooked through. This might not seem a big deal, but it is. Also do not add tomatoes until the beans are done; it takes much longer for the beans to cook if you do.
Different types of beans cook differently, but generally speaking, a cup of dried peas or beans will make two to two and a half cups cooked. I always add onion and garlic no matter what.
