proud as a canadian, but without the bacon

I wonder if writing about food is like grocery shopping -- does it make a difference if you do it on an empty stomach? Today I'm writing from a fullness. It's been a lazy, lazy day and I haven't burned off half the calories I've consumed, I'm sure. For breakfast, I had my usual bowl of oatmeal. I buy the canister, get a good month's worth of breakfasts out of it. I pour some in a bowl, cover it with milk, heat it in the microwave for 2 minutes, then stir in honey, peanut butter and jelly. It is such deliciousness, and it keeps me full till lunch. But I didn't come here to talk about oatmeal. That will be another day, and I'll talk all about how I'd like to open an oatmeal restaurant. But today, I'm going to talk about beans.

I've long been a bean hater, and I can distinctly remember seven times in my life I have eaten them -- before now.

1. At my grandmother's table. My first non-cough-medicine-related gagging-on-food experience. I was promptly scolded. Some sort of multi-bean mixture.

2. At my aunt's table. Out of politeness. Grossed out. Lima beans.

3. From my mother's kitchen spoon. Interest in ketchup/mustard ingredient. Unimpressed. Baked bean, singular.

4. From the stone kitchen of a real, live Mexican woman who made tortillas from scratch. Long story. Delicious on the tortilla, acceptable because it didn't resemble beans. Refried.

5. From the kitchen of previously mentioned chef. I was feeling experimental, having become OK with tomatoes. Quite impressed. Baked beans.

6. From a steakhouse restaurant, soon after No. 5. Disgusted. Baked beans written off (again).

7. Actually a handful of occurrences lumped together. From Mexican restaurants, not minding if the rice touches the beans, but never finishing them.

And suddenly, I'm having a life-altering crossover. I'm reading "Eating Animals" by Jonathan Safran Foer. I'm not saying I'm becoming a holier-than-thou vegetarian, but I'm coming to terms with the realities of the meat industry, and opting to no longer participate. I've ignored it long enough, as has most of the world. Is it a phase? Is it comparable to quitting smoking? Will I have a meat relapse? Not likely, as I've discovered that fake chicken tastes exactly like the real thing, especially considering the "real" thing isn't even up to its own standard of taste anymore. But I digress, as they say.

Going veg-o, I'm going to have to introduce myself to some previously despised products. Pickles, no; olives, no. Beans? Certainly. It's already begun. Eggplant? Not yet convinced. Squash? Skeptical. Cauliflower? Cautiously.

I hear they're good for your heart ...

Harry's Burrito has some significant veg-o options. Oh no! The fake-meat steak burrito has refried beans!!! You know what? This is about expanding food horizons. I'll take the plunge and I won't even hold my nose. And? Magnifico! I can do this.

I always say "no beans" at Chipotle, but I was at Qdoba and the pickings were slim. I had managed to not die after eating a couple black beans in that McDonald's salad, and everyone says they're soooo good, why not have a few thrown in? If not for those little black buggers, the Qdoba would have been completely tasteless. So the next time I was at Chipotle, I said bring 'em on. I'm officially a convert, though I prefaced my request with "just a little bit." Tasty delight.

Enter grocery store, visit baked-bean aisle. Consider advice of both friend and talking dog from commercials. Purchase can of vegetarian Bush's baked beans. It's a family recipe, right? "Do it."

Verdict? Stay tuned. Perhaps I'll have them alongside a veggie burger with veggie cheese. Suddenly, that doesn't sound like freaky food -- it sounds like dinner.