The Garden Dirt: Magic Beans

Like many homeschooling parents, I watched the Creationism v. Evolution debate between Ken Ham and Bill Nye two weeks ago. As one might predict, both men spoke respectfully from a place deep inside themselves, and returned to their corners, declared the "winner" by each of their respective sides.

Like some homeschooling parents, I spent most of it wondering why on earth they were having this discussion, and calling it a debate. What were they trying to accomplish? How many minds were changed? Is there an absolute truth there that one of them nailed and the other missed?

Unexpectedly, Joe Coffey, an Ohio pastor who appears in the HBO documentary, Questioning Darwin, cleared this up for me when he said, "If that's the way the world works...if it's just this mechanical thing... then you believe in a God that doesn't intervene in nature, That takes away any possibility of miracles, any possibility of answered prayer..."

He's right!

The scientific method doesn't require a "prayer" step, nor does it contend with miracles in any way but to dissect and explain them.

While human history (and the present) is full of scientists who pray, in all kinds of ways, when it gets down to the real sciencing, publishing "God did it." in lieu of research just won't do. I kind of thought that was pretty obvious back when Galileo's life was threatened by his own church for supporting heliocentrism, the radical notion that we live in a solar system rather than an earth-centric planetary system. He recanted. The dude with the telescope.

JKLOL Please, don't kill me.

Many devout believers have pursued the sciences since then, able to reconcile faith and fact. That's why we have the very technology I am using to publish this very blog at this very moment. (Hallelujah for that, amirite?) Maybe they understand that, rather than try to eliminate our beliefs, the whole point of the the scientific method, is to take them into account. To address the fact that our culture, background, beliefs, or just good old-fashioned fear of being burned at the stake, could possibly influence how we form answers to our questions about the world around us, in a way that renders us less-than-objective.

So, to me, debating evolution v. creationism is like saying, "Who is right? Combustion engines or People who love Disney movies?" I don't see how they're on opposite sides of the same point, except, maybe when it comes to the issue of miracles. A miracle is a funny thing, because, by its very definition, it is supposed to defy all that we know to be true; all that we seek to understand using the scientific method. Growing up, I was taught that believing in miracles requires faith, but most scientists just want to take out their scalpels and figure out exactly what makes the miracle tick.  Does this make them faithless, or curious?

As I have lived, year after year, I have found truer definitions for words I learned as a child;  "faith" and "miracle" are the two biggest ones.

 Faith is building a trellis for beans I haven't planted yet. 

The sheer hours of squatting, cutting, and tying to make a couple of simple bamboo teepees will have you wondering if it will all be in vain. If the seeds will be bunk, or get sick quickly, or be invaded by predators, or grow to a stumpy height, leaving the top of the trellis to mock you with its bareness.

 Faith doesn't mean I believe none of those things will happen, it just means I act as though they won't.

It means I am counting on the well-worn miracles of germination, iron phosphate, and photosynthesis to make all that work worthwhile. Sure, those things I call miracles can be explained, but that does not make them less profound to me. I am filled with wonder when those green leaves pop up for the first time every year.

  And I am a grateful primate indeed when my act of faith is rewarded so fruitfully.

Marveling at the magic of science is something I love to share with my li'l miracles. To see our study on germinating runner beans, check out these photos on the Backyard University Facebook page.

The Muddy Kitchen: Easy Beans

Beans are not hard! Well, they are at first, but then you cook them, which is not hard.

The day before I know I'm going to make something with beans, I buy a bag of them at the store and bring them home. As I put them in the pantry, I think to myself, "I'll get started on those beans early tomorrow! Dinner will be a snap!".

The next day, and this part is very important, I totally forget to cook the beans. Or worse, I remember to cook the beans several times, but decide to keep doing what I'm doing at the time, instead of starting them. Somewhere around 3:00 pm, I think, "Oh no! I need to get those beans on!" and find a big pot and lid.

Easy How To: Fill the pot about 3/4 with water, put a lot of salt in, and dump a bag of beans in, after rinsing them off. (When you're rinsing the beans, check for and remove little pebbles or weird screwed-up beans.) Crank the heat up under them. Let the water boil for a couple of minutes, remove from heat, and cover. Go back to forgetting about them until around 4:30 or 5 pm.

If you have other prep work to do, this is a good opportunity for that.

For the pictured dish, I chop a couple of onions and green peppers, and mince some garlic.

After a while, remember that the beans still need to be cooked and put them on low-medium heat and keep it there for another hour or so. Add water to keep the beans immersed, if necessary.

Here's more of what I did for the pictured beans and rice dish. I learned it from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything. In your biggest pot, heat a few tablespoons of oil and sautée the onions and peppers in cumin (at least a few tablespoons) until they're getting soft and the onions are almost translucent. Add the garlic and cook for a couple of minutes. Then, dump in a couple of cups of brown rice and twice as many cups of water. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to simmer. Here's where I add the beans that have been cooking. May as well let it all cook together in the same pot. I don't even drain the beans first. It all goes in! Aren't you glad you used the big pot? I cook it all until everything is tender, turn off the heat, and stir in two cans of coconut milk.

Then, serve massive amounts of it to some delightful children. You can skip that step, but I don't recommend it. I think this sight really brings out the taste of the cumin.

This dish is a hit in our house. It's cheap, it's easy, and it makes top-notch leftovers. The kids sigh about how much they love it and groan about how full they get from eating it. My ulterior goal is to teach them to cook it for themselves before they leave home for Their Adult Lives. On my mental list of survival recipes, this is at the top.