It was Spring Break for my son this week, so I took a trip with the kids to see their grandparents. My mother told me in no uncertain terms that she hadn't the slightest clue what to feed me, so if I didn't want to be eating out (something that can get tricky if I'm really trying to be good), I had better be prepared to cook.
I really didn't mind cooking. I went simple--black beans and rice the first night, salmon with potatoes and veggies the next. Not too freaky, not too out there, and not a bit of quinoa in sight, as I think the thought of eating quinoa might just have pushed my very carnivorous parents over the edge.
My black beans and rice recipe is also very far from exotic. I literally got it off the back of the can one day when I was searching for something to make for dinner. Sauteed onions, garlic, and green peppers in olive oil, a can of black beans (low sodium, of course, or drained and rinsed), some spices (I went with cumin and lemon pepper), and then a few tablespoons of vinegar. Simmer, stir, serve with brown rice and you're good. Another bonus--all told, this meals costs like a buck fifty. Well, I added a fruit salad, which ups the price a bit, but seriously, beans and rice are an awfully cheap way to go, espeically if you buy beans dry and in bulk.
Anyway, my dad came home after we had started eating, sat down and said, "Well. Looks....healthy."
"Yes! Heather cooked it! It is healthy!" said my mother, a little TOO enthusiastically.
To his credit, my father, a man who has been known to turn down a meal of curry chicken for a bowl of milk and bread with sugar sprinkled on top, ladled himself a big 'ol helping of beans and poured them over a big patch of rice. He took a bite, looked down, swallowed, and said, "Hey, this is good!"
I laughed and said, "You sound surprised."
He shrugged and said, "Well..."
He cleared his plate, had seconds, and even polished off some of the leftovers next day at lunch.
See there, it makes me feel good when people realize that beans are our friends. I'm actually growing rather fond of them myself.
So I guess you can call me Bean Girl. Educating one carnivore at a time.