1703: Beans, Beans, Beans

I’ve never really felt like all those pieces of conventional wisdom regarding certain foods and drinks actually have the intended effect on me — at least not until the last few years or so. I’m not sure if they’re actually having more of an effect on me as I get older, or if I’m simply more conscious of the effect they’re having on me. Either way, I’m starting to notice that some of the things regarding food and drink I’ve long had a certain degree of doubt over are perhaps a little more true than I thought.

Take coffee, for example. Now, my past resilience to caffeine — I’ve long been able to drink a cup of joe in the evening and not have it affect my sleep patterns, though this is perhaps due to the fact that my sleep patterns are already somewhat questionable — can perhaps be attributed to the sheer amount of the stuff I’ve put into my body on a regular basis ever since I was quite young. Coffee is seen by some as a “grown-up drink” — perhaps because of its bitterness, and the fact that, without milk, it’s an acquired taste — but I’ve been drinking it in various forms for as long as I can remember. Okay, for the first few years of my life it was milky Nescafé, but as soon as the world discovered fancy, expensive coffees I was right there with everyone — though I must confess I don’t go as far as some people, largely because I have no idea what a “wet latte” is.

Anyway. The fact is, I’ve always drunk a lot of coffee — and buying a nice coffee machine a while back certainly didn’t help me cut back, not that I particularly wanted to. As such, my body has apparently grown somewhat accustomed to caffeine, and thus a simple coffee never felt like it had a huge amount of effect on me. Sure, if I drank too many coffees and Red Bulls in a day, I’d get the shakes and feel a bit sick — as bad a feeling as any hangover, that, let me tell you — but for the most part, I never felt like caffeine made me any more “alert” or gave me a buzz as legend had it that it was supposed to.

Recently, however, I’ve cut back on coffee somewhat, largely due to the fact that it costs money to go and get a decent coffee at work (I could take instant, but, frankly, I’m a snob about coffee now and find that most instant — with the possible exception of Nescafé Azera, which is actually pretty good — tastes like crap) and thus I drink far less on any given day. And, as a result, I feel like caffeine is having more of an effect on me. I know a morning coffee certainly feels like it helps — and if I need to pep up a bit in the afternoon, another cup feels like it helps too. It’s possibly psychosomatic, of course — which is what I’ve long suspected when it comes to caffeine — but, well, it’s working for me.

An area where I have less doubt is in the matter of baked beans. Now, those of you with fond memories of the schoolyard will doubtless remember the short piece of juvenile poetry that taught everyone that while beans were indeed good for one’s heart, they had a habit of also afflicting one with a certain degree of flatulence.

I’ve never really actually considered this to be true, despite the popular perception of eating beans being akin to allowing a Northern mining town free rein to hold brass band rehearsals somewhere within the cavernous expanse of your rectum. However, once again, just recently I have discovered that there may, in fact, be a degree more truth in this piece of popular wisdom than I had initially anticipated.

I had a jacket potato for lunch the other day, you see. My workplace canteen boasts some of the largest baked potatoes I’ve ever seen, and they’re cooked nicely so that there’s a bit of crispiness to the skin while they remain fluffy and not dried out within. There are few fillings available for said baked potatoes, but one of them is the old staple baked beans, optionally with the addition of cheese. I indulged in this classic combination, then went back to work in the afternoon. Upon reaching the end of the day, I found myself feeling a little bloated, but thought little of it and walked the 15-minute walk back to my car.

Upon reaching my car and sitting down inside, it happened: an attack of flatulence that bore an uncanny resemblance to distant — but rapidly approaching — rolling thunder. Starting subtly but quickly building in a crescendo of gaseous overtones, the entire affair lasted a good ten seconds or so, after which the feeling of being somewhat bloated had magically passed. It took another ten minutes for me to stop laughing enough to be able to drive off safely.

Naturally, upon discovering that the canteen’s particular brand of baked beans had such a dramatic impact on me, I had to try again. And so it was that today I indulged in another gigantic jacket potato with beans and cheese — and a jelly for afters, because who can resist a jelly? — and so it was that once again, upon returning to my vehicle after a long day staring at my computer screen, I erupted in a cacophony of full-bodied guffs that I can hardly deny were extremely satisfying to release. I was even a bit sorry that no-one was around to hear them.

So yeah. Beans, beans, good for your heart; beans, beans really do… you know.