In My Grandpa Era

In which I effuse about beans, drink some gin and complain about sporting events that start too late

Last night, my eight-year-old asked to play basketball in the driveway after dinner.

I encourage this—frankly, I’m thrilled any time my kids want to do anything that does not involve watching Minecraft videos on YouTube—and it was a beautiful evening to bounce a ball around. (We mostly practiced dribbling after realizing that there was a nest of wasps on the hoop and I am out of wasp killer.)

Like any sports-obsessed dad, I’ve been trying to get my kids into watching sports, too, and I’ve raved about some of the players of my youth during our driveway sessions. (That is to say, I taught him the Dikembe Mutombo finger wag after blocking his shot.) He’s been gradually gaining interest, and hey—the NBA Finals is going on right now! What a terrific time to [checks when the games start] 8:30pm?? On a weeknight!?C’mon.

Well, maybe there’s a game on Sunday, and—8pm? On Sunday!? C’MON!

Now, I’ve ranted about late-starting sporting events before—in fact, the notion that no major sporting event should end after 10pm Eastern Time is a central plank of my sports-related political platform:

My Sports Platform

I still believe this, and I rankle at NBA Finals games—the kind of showcases of talent that could hook a lifelong fan in grade school—that often run until damn near midnight.

I started to write up this little rant for today’s newsletter, and then I looked at the entirety of my offerings for the week. Aside from complaining about games starting too late, I plan to spend parts of this newsletter effusing about my favorite beans and drinking gin. I am forced to consider the possibility that, at age 42, I am already entering my Grandpa Era.

And you know what? I’m quite alright with it.

I might just start eating dinner at 4:30pm. It’s not like I’m staying up for the basketball game.

Friends, it is once again Friday at The Action Cookbook Newsletter.

I have had an extremely busy week of work and travel, but neither rain nor heat nor ground control at O’Hare International Airport shall stay this writer from the swift completion of his appointed rounds. I’ve got a modest-but-wonderful recipe, a new favorite gin, some loud music, a good book, the perfect movie for an ice-cold hotel room, and more!

The extremely-out-of-date app I was using to add text to these preview images was just sunset this weekend, and that’s why this looks different. This bothers me.

Get off my lawn, and into the weekend.

I Am Once Again Thinkin Bout Thos Beans

Recently, in honor of us entering the barbecueing time of year, I have been dedicating my Friday culinary content to side dishes. Over the past month, I’ve featured a pasta salad, a fruit salad, cowboy caviar and potato salad:

It's time for a side quest

Don't Sell Yourself Short

[ominously] School's out.

The Dippin' Dots Theory of Good Times

This week? I’m thinkin bout thos beans.

Gigantes, that is—the Greek giant beans that are the cool cousin to lima or butter beans. They’re a marvelous food, and absolutely delicious when baked with tomatoes and onions. That specific preparation— “gigantes plaki” — is something I first experienced when a family of complete strangers offered me some in a jovial crowd watching Holy Week processions in Alicante, Spain, one of the more magical culinary moments of my life.

I’ve been obsessed with them ever since, and I couldn’t let this celebration of side dishes pass without paying them their due. It might actually be a little bit of a cheat to include them, really—they’re easily satisfying enough to be a main dish, and they’d make a terrific non-meat offering at a cookout, far better than fake hot dogs.¹

I get excited about making these beans, in a way that I hope my family finds charming rather than embarrassing.

Gigantes Plaki (Greek Giant Beans in Tomato Sauce)