BAD BEAN – Living on baked beans for one tumultuous week Aoife Breen spills the beans on what it’s like to subsist solely on baked beans for one tumultuous week.

So last week I got a shock, of the worst, financial after-the-earthquake kind. After living in scandalous levels of excess for the past few weeks, the money I had made pretending to answer the phone and stamping post in my summer job, had finally run out. Knowing that if I made the “I can’t afford to eat” phone call home to Tipperary, my hands and feet might literally be cut off (as it’s not as if I didn’t have more than enough), I resigned myself to a dire fate.

A Budget.

Now, I’m not talking the kind of budget where you only have one night out a week. I’m talking avoiding college so you don’t have to spend €3.30 on public transport and googling whether Aldi or Lidl is cheaper for bags of plain pasta (which you’ll be consuming without sauce).

On the way home, for 40c, I bought a gone-off toffee crisp from a stall which said, ‘TO BE SOLD AS A MULTIPACK’. With the boundless energy I received from its questionable sugar content, I strolled into Lidl with only one thing on my mind: subsistence.

While combing the aisles for bargains, it struck me that if I hadn’t spent all my money ‘treating myself’ to €7.50 bottles of wine (that I just mixed with various juices anyway), burgers, and multiple luas fines, then I could be eating reasonably priced ravioli every night. Unfortunately, even a stir-fry mix was above me at this stage. I racked my brain to try to figure out how to feed myself for the week and also pay for (what would have to be a single) ticket home to beg for extra funds in person.

Just as the E numbers in my toffee crisp began to wear off, I spotted a bright light among endless packets of cut-price Italian almond brittle. Beans. Seven packets in fact, for the low low price of only €2.30. I felt an instant sense of relief, this was an opportunity I simply couldn’t afford to pass up. In hindsight, it most definitely was an opportunity I should have passed up. Firstly, they were Heinz beans, which as everyone knows, are a disgustingly inferior product in comparison to the institution of beans that is Bachelors. Secondly, I’m certain that there’s an entire Jamie Oliver book dedicated to feeding yourself and a family of four for less than 50c a day. In my defence, it was a horribly rainy day, and I had drunk one of the aforementioned bottles of wine the night before, so my sense of judgement wasn’t quite at its peak.

As I was lugging my seven packets of beans home in the rain (because I couldn’t afford frivolities such as transport) it hit me that I might possibly find it difficult to subsist solely on beans. My smugness was soon replaced with dread. However, if I’m anything, I’m a creative thinker, so I pulled myself up by the bootstraps and made the most of it. The following recipes are not something you may ever wish to try at home, but bear with me.

MONDAY

On Monday, I went for a classic. I figured that I’d start myself off with something basic to ease myself into this experiment of mine.

BEANZ ON TOAST

Ingredients

Beans

Sourdough bread

Real butter (softened)

Good quality olive oil

Sea salt

Half a white onion

Fresh basil

 

Finely chop your onion and add it to a pan with hot olive oil and the sea salt and pepper to taste. While the onion is in the pan, grill two thick slices of sourdough on a grill pan with a light brushing of olive oil (don’t forget to turn them). After the onions are sweated to your satisfaction, add them into a saucepan with your tin of beans and heat them until piping hot. Then, liberally butter your bread and arrange the slices on a plate. Finally, pour your beans over the two slices and cut up some fresh basil to garnish. Note: I did not ‘technically’ own this bread, ‘technically’ I stole it from my housemate (they are rich in more than one kind of dough). In the spirit of this article, I encourage you to do the same.

TUESDAY

Fresh off yesterday’s success, I felt confident and assured that this week was mine for the taking. I laughed thinking that I might have surrendered to pasta and Dolmio every night. This sense of smugness proved to be slightly premature.

 

SMUG FRITTATA

Ingredients

Beans

3 eggs

Frozen sweetcorn

Two good handfuls of spinach

Half an onion

One clove of garlic

Strong cheddar cheese

Good olive oil

 

Boil and drain the sweetcorn then set aside. Mince your garlic and finely chop your onion, then add them to a heated pan of olive oil. Add salt, pepper, and dried oregano and sweat them in the pan. Roughly grate approximately half a cup of your strong cheddar and then whisk the three eggs briskly. Combine the eggs with the beans and sweetcorn and mix quickly before adding to the pan along with the cheese. Add the spinach on top then turn down the heat and cover the pan allowing the frittata to set. Serve with toasted pitta breads.

This was a low point. The level of effort and the end result were disturbingly divorced from one another. In short, this was awful. The sweetcorn was unnecessary, and I had to watch those around me (the well-nourished and balanced budget flatmates) eating things like spaghetti while I suffered though Rachel Allen’s Literal Worst Nightmare (she was also, rather mockingly, speaking at The Phil the week of my ordeal). The beans that had comforted me the night before now caused nothing but feelings of resentment and hatred. I went to sleep full but unfulfilled.

WEDNESDAY

I approached Wednesday with caution. Tuesday night had shook me, and I was beginning to get morbidly jealous of people eating literally anything without a bean in it. s I tried to cover up my fear and disappointment with incessant references to it only costing €2.30 for SEVEN TINS, my friends had reached breaking point with my constant reference to the beans.

BEANS AND EGGS (BEAN SHAKSHUKA)

Ingredients

Beans

Two eggs

Two scallions

Chili flakes

Half a tin of chopped tomatoes

One and a half handfuls of chopped chorizo

Good olive oil

Finely chop the scallions and roughly chop the chorizo and then add both to the pan with olive oil and chili flakes. In a bowl, combine the beans and tomatoes (adding in salt and pepper, and when the chorizo has been lightly browned add in the bean/tomato mixture). Then make two hollows and crack two eggs into them. Adjust the heat and cook until the eggs are done to your satisfaction. Serve with white bread, toasted and liberally buttered.

Honestly, this would be fine if I hadn’t been eating beans so often. It’s FINE.

THURSDAY

I hit a wall Thursday. I saw someone with a pizza on my walk home and maybe it was the biting wind, but I definitely felt something approaching a tear. I was sick of being the Bear Grylls of my own kitchen. I didn’t want to just survive anymore, I wanted to LIVE. This attitude led me to this recipe, it’s not something I would actually even really want someone to see me eating.

CHEESY BEANS

Ingredients

Beans

Feta cheese

Strong Cheddar

Mozzarella

 

This one is not rocket science. Cut up or grate your various cheeses and feel free to substitute and add different cheeses at your leisure. Then heat up the beans and add the cheese. Stir it all together and eat it out of the pot because you are a disgusting, financially irresponsible human being and it also saves on the washing up.

FRIDAY

On Friday, I bought my single ticket back to Tipperary and spent the entire journey practicing excuses for why I literally don’t seem to understand the concept of not spending all your money yet also somehow having nothing to show for it. I did not consume a single bean on Friday and I have not since. If anyone wishes to purchase my surplus beans please contact me directly, I need the money.

Illustrations by Aoife Breen

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