Deep-Fried Beans, One Small Grease Fire, and a New Tasty Snack

I suppose I had to set my kitchen on fire at some point. There had been some close calls before. A pan deglazing gone wrong, pie drippings that had turned my oven into an indoor smoker. But, this time we had to scramble to dig out the slightly greasy (and a bit hairy) fire extinguisher. Luckily, it didn’t have to be deployed, as the DIY tile backsplash behind the stovetop was more flame retardant than we thought.

And all of this mess was created for the sake of experimentation. If I just didn’t have a knack for discovering odd little cooking tips in the books and magazines that litter my reading nook. You know the ones, those little innocent mentions a cookbook author or food writer throw into their writing as casual, passing statements. The ones that have no real direction, but you think, innocently, “How hard could that be?”

So that’s what happened upon perusing my new copy of Michael Ruhlman’s new book, The Elements of Cooking. As I was skimming through his glossary of cooking terms, the words ‘deep-fried’ and ‘dried beans’ popped out from the page.

Now, I was trying to come up with a new salad idea to accompany some homemade shrimp and grits – grits that were made with real hominy from Rancho Gordo. So, it had to be something special, something unique. What then could be better than a salad of greens with a garnish of deep-fried black-eyed peas?

While I contemplated the possibilities of a deep-fried bean, the consequences of the endeavor didn’t calculate into my plans. For some reason, I didn’t consider that they might pop like popcorn and create a fiery, sooty haze on what was a particularly cold winter’s night.

Before this goes any further, I should say upfront, I don’t recommend trying this at home. Don’t get me wrong; I’ll definitely be cranking up a deep pot of hot oil again. I’ll just be a bit more vigilant, like an overprotective parent with a kid holding a handful of lit sparklers on the 4th of July. Maybe, I’ll even dust-off the old deep fryer that’s stashed away in the basement, the one I had deemed unworthy of my growing culinary skills. After all, there’s probably a reason it has a hinged-lid and a breakaway power cord.

The deep-fried black-eyed pea incident played out like thus: The beans soaked overnight, were drained and stashed in the fridge while I headed off to the day job giddy with anticipation. Once home and the suit removed, canola oil was heated into a deep stockpot to 350-degrees. This is where some more pre-thought, aka Mythbusters-Style, should have taken place as said pot had a diameter that was smaller than the burner and as mentioned earlier, I hadn’t accounted for the physics of hot, exploding, popping beans.

With a baking sheet lined with plain paper towels and some good French sea salt on standby, it was time for the experiment to commence. The first batch of beans was allowed to dry slightly on paper towels before being tossed into some rice flour to add a slightly crunchy, delicate tempura-esque finish. The second batch would be deep fried plain. Using a Chinese spider strainer, the beans would be lowered into the hot oil in small batches.

It’s hard not to like something hot, crunchy and salty, and we (my husband decided I needed back-up) couldn’t stop snacking on the black-eyed peas once they weren’t as hot as little lava rocks. But, just like popcorn, there were a few of the starchy little boogers that decided to free themselves of their skins and go out in a blaze of glory.

As for taste tests, we did restrain from eating all of them, our testers were split 50/50 on the use of rice flour. For those who enjoy soy nuts, they liked the deep-fried beans that were plain, while other snackers preferred the extra texture of the rice flour coating. Mixed with the greens, a little crispy bacon and a Dijon vinaigrette, it’s one of the few salads that I’ve seen people go back for seconds and thirds.

On the second day, the beans did not stay quite as crisp, so to ensure extra crunch, we found they needed a short stay in a 350-degree oven for about 5-8 minutes. This kept them crunchy for snacking a week later.

My husband bought me a box of beans for Christmas. Got to love the man. And these are not any old beans; they’re from Rancho Gordo. So, now the ideas keep coming. Maybe a deep-fried black bean seasoned with cumin and chili powder, a canellini bean seasoned with rosemary and sage . . .

Outside of the novelty, and apparently danger, of deep-frying a bean, the fascination with this salty, crunchy snack comes down to the fact that I’ve never met a bean I didn’t like and there will always be a new, slightly quirky cooking idea to try.