I had a memory of me and my Dad today. I am not even sure when it started or even when we did this but I know we did this multiple times when I was young! we used to sit at our dining room table and sort pinto beans. Dry pinto beans.
My Dad would lay out bunch of a dry beans in front of me and he used to place a bunch in front of him and we sat there and sorted. We would sort out the shriveled beans as well as rocks. He told me that we did not want to eat those!
Once they were all sorted, he would put them in a pot and put water in it. He placed it on low heat and put spices and a couple slabs of raw bacon in it as well.
Those beans would cook on the stove for hours and they smelled delicious! I Think that my mom would mash them for Mexican meal and I was remembering today that after the beans had cooked for more than a few hours my Dad would ladle out some for me and himself.
Then we would sit at the dining room table and eat our bean soup. Not really talking all the while. My Dad was comfortable in silence with me and I was equally as comfortable. I am sitting in silence as I write this and somehow this silence is a little bit different. I miss the silence of eating bean soup with my Dad.