Beans and Grains Anonymous

Hi, I'm Heather, and I have a dried goods problem.*

As I've hinted at before, I have this thing for beans.  And grains.  I don't know where it came from; like most things, I blame The Husband, as I had never encountered a dried bean before I met him and now look at me. 

But, whatever the reason, it's clear that this little issue isn't going away anytime soon.  So I decided to document my current bean-and-grain situation, in hopes that visualizing the extent of the madness might help me come to grips with my addiction.  As they say, the first step is to admit you have a problem.†

First, the beans:

Also shown: my classy Gladware collection.

There you have it: our 24 varieties of bean.¥  Aren't they pretty?  Doesn't it make you want to go out and buy some beans, to marvel in their colors and sizes and...

NO.  Must stay strong.

So, yeah - 24 types of beans. 

Ok, incredibly nerdy taxonomy‡ time: 

Our 24 beany varieties represent seven genera (Cicer, Lens, Vicia, Glycine, Vigna, Cajanus, and Phaseolus).  Half of the beans come from the Phaseolus genus, with nine varieties being of the P. vulgaris species (your common New World beans, like kidney and pinto and such).  The second largest genus represented is Vigna (beans of Asia), which includes most lentils and azuki beans.

/taxonomy

In addition to beans, we/I have also accumulated a lot of grains, somehow.∆

Celiacs and other glutenphobes - look away!

In columns from left to right, we have: corn (polenta, posole); grains-but-not-really (quinoa, couscous, amaranth); rice; and wheats/other cereal grains (last two columns).  For those of you keeping track, spelt is my favorite grain.

Well, now that I've seen my beans and grains laid out like this, I am simultaneously impressed and ashamed.∞  No matter what these photos may suggest, I am really trying to keep this whole bean situation under some semblance of control.  Though I'm pretty sure that, in addition to learning old-timey skills for food preparation, having a large store of dried goods would be a helpful bargaining chip in a post-apocalyptic world...£

Next time on "Trips Through the Pantry," perhaps I'll show you my collection of 33 loose-leaf teas.  Or my 20-something varieties of dried pasta.  Or my 60ish different kinds of spices.  Or the oil and vinegar shelf.

Maybe I really do have a problem. 

A tasty little problem.
__________________________________________________________
*Hi, Heather.
†The second step is probably to not buy two more pounds of beans while at the Ferry Market in San Francisco last weekend.  But it's not really my fault - I was there with a friend who is definitely a Bean Enabler.  You can't just expect me to not buy anything when she's standing there buying $30 worth of beans, now can you?  No, you can't.
¥Eagle-eyed readers with a rudimentary knowledge of numbers might notice that there are 25 containers in this photo.  However, two of the faux-Tupperwares contain the same type of bean; once is a spiced bean, and the other is plain.  Thus, there are actually only 24 distinct varieties of bean.  So don't write me angry letters.
‡This (taxonomic classification) is what I do every week at the museum.  It's either a short bit about bean genera or a long rumination about the complexities of mollusk taxonomy.  I figured getting dorky about beans would go over better, but if anyone's interested in gastropod identification and classification, I can talk about that.  Oh lord, can I tell you about that.
∆ I think it has something to do with gnomes.  Grains - ??? - PROFIT?
∞Impshamed?  Ashpressed?  Lupus?
£ Seriously, if society as we know it were to collapse tomorrow (or Tuesday, depending on your level of optimism re: mid-term elections), I could survive pretty well on all the stuff in the pantry (assuming I had access to potable water, a pan, and someone to make fire, since I don't know how to use a lighter.  Or a match.  Maybe I should start learning how to summon flame with flint and tinder, or else knowing how to make butter isn't going to be much use when the lights go out and the darkness creeps in, eyes glowing and fangs bared, the wind howling a night dirge to a moonless sky.).