Market share: keen for beans

One of my favourite things about the weekly farmers’ market in North Hatley, in the Eastern Townships, is the abundance of purple beans. Fortunately, they can also be found in markets around Montreal, so keep your eye out and grab a bag next time you see them.

Photos by Stacey DeWolfe 

One of my favourite things about the weekly farmers’ market in North Hatley, in the Eastern Townships, is the abundance of purple beans. Fortunately, they can also be found in markets around Montreal, so keep your eye out and grab a bag next time you see them.

Purple beans (or Royal Burgundies, as they are known by those who know) taste pretty much the same as green and yellow beans when cooked, and lose their burgundy hue, which means they’re best served raw — though a quick perusal of the web suggests than when steaming them, you can use the moment they turn green as an indicator that they are ready to eat.

Raw, they are a beautiful sight, but for those not accustomed to eating organic vegetables, the taste can be a bit earthy. Because of this earthiness, however, they are well suited to what I like to call salsification, a term I created to describe the process by which fruits and vegetables are finely chopped and mixed with oils and vinegars. And on a blistering day like the ones we have been experiencing lately, when the last thing you want to do is turn on the oven, a purple bean salsa can be the perfect complement to a cold cucumber buttermilk soup.

When I mentioned to a friend that I was making buttermilk soup for dinner, he grimaced, unable to divorce himself from childhood memories of his grandfather digging into a plate of kippers while slurping back a mug of buttermilk for lunch. Until a few years ago, I felt much the same way. In my mind, buttermilk just seemed yucky — a runny version of butter that was high in fat and not at all good for you. Luckily, another friend and avid baker was on hand to set me straight.

In its original incarnation, buttermilk was simply the liquid that remained in the bowl after the butter had been churned. The commercial version we buy at the store begins with skim milk; it’s the addition of bacterial cultures and salt that give it its taste and texture. As a result, the slightly tacky liquid tastes like a savoury, drinkable yogurt and is surprisingly refreshing straight-up.


 
FOR THE SOUP

All you really need is a blender and a cucumber. The recipe below is by no means the only direction you can take, and I encourage you to be bold in your explorations. As long as you taste your creation as you work, you cannot go too far astray.

Peel and cube an English cucumber and add it to the blender with 1.5 cups of buttermilk. Blend.

Add 2 tablespoons of lemon and/or lime juice, a pinch of cumin, and one of Korean chili powder (or anything that will give it some zing). Blend.

Then, to give the soup some legs, add 2 tablespoons of ground almonds. This is my thickener of choice because I try not to eat wheat, but you can also use walnuts, bread crumbs or a chunks of soaked bread.

Blend, and add salt and pepper to taste.

FOR THE SALSA

Wash and thinly slice 2 handfuls of purple beans and 2 scallions (green onions). Add the leaves from a handful each of cilantro and flat-leaf parsley (or any other fresh herb that you think might be nice). Mix.

To this, add the juice and zest of half a lime, 1/2 teaspoon of apple cider vinegar, a pinch of salt and pepper, a glug of maple syrup and 2 tablespoons of olive oil.

TO SERVE

Ladle soup into bowl, add spoonful of salsa and sprinkle with more chili powder and black pepper.

Serves four as an appetizer and two as a light lunch. ■

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