My Phobia: (British) Baked Beans.
The most sickening article I’ve written.
I feel sick to my stomach. My face is tight with anxiety and it’s causing crows’ feet on either side of my eyes. They age me beyond my years. They make me shiver. My shoulders are tense. Why can’t I stop staring at them? They say it’s tough to stop looking at unsettling things, and this is beyond repulsive. I’m captivated by them- in the worst possible way.
I have a phobia of baked beans.
Most people have an aversion to snakes, spiders and Tom Cruise movies. Society accepts them as ‘normal’.
Leguminophobia is the irrational fear of baked beans. And it turns out, I am not alone in my struggle. I read an article about a cook who had to quit his job because he couldn’t cook a Full English Breakfast, in which they are a staple. Questions have been posted on Reddit and Quora by those wondering if this affects others. There is even a hashtag on Twitter #Leguminophobia. This is the solidarity I needed.
You can stop laughing now. This is serious(ish).
If I was a Goliath, baked beans would be my David.
The truth is, laughter is a standard response to those who learn about my phobia. I have had to come to terms with this reaction over the years. Most people have an aversion to snakes, spiders and Tom Cruise movies. Society accepts them as ‘normal’. I am well aware that my detestation of a low-cost popular foodstuff is plain weird.
Acknowledging the fact they exist in the same world as I, is traumatic. Never mind the fact people choose to eat them as food- shudder. If I was a Goliath, Baked Beans would be my David.
British baked beans- most famously made by Heinz- are premade and come in a tin. It’s shiny silver, rudimentary and sturdy. It would break a toe (or brick for that matter) if dropped on one, and remain unblemished. The opening reveals a cold, shiny tomato-based red gloop that glistens in even the dimmest of light. How can food make my eyes squint? They taste overly sweet and artificial despite being made with no additives. The beans are Haricot Beans apparently-whatever they are. They have a dry centre and mushy texture meaning they stick to your teeth when chewed.
The flatulence they produce is almost unique in its smell. “Did you eat baked beans today? It smells like you did”.
It all started in my family home as a child where they were deemed an acceptable dish at any time. For breakfast, lunch, or a side dish at dinner. Baked beans were everywhere. I recall my brother warming some in the microwave for lunch. He nuked them for too long meaning he could hardly hold the bowl without burning his hands. I was just about coping with them in my vicinity until I saw a thin layer of red skin on the top, which was caused by excessive heating. He proceeded to scrape it off with a spoon, flick it into the bin, before taking a mouthful. For me, this episode was trauma in its purest form.
“They keep you regular” my mom used to say. Which, to me, was just another reason, on the already exhaustive list, to hate them. When I spy someone chowing down on beans without a care in the world, I feel desperately sorry for their partner, friends, family, or colleagues who will have this human airbag in their company later on. The flatulence they produce is almost unique in its smell. “Did you eat baked beans today? It smells like you did”. The scent is as sinister as it is distinctive.
Watching them being ingested is all engaging for me. Like falling into anaphylaxis when stung by a bee. Why do baked beans seem to infect every other item on the plate? The bean ‘jus’ is unable to be hoarded into one part of the plate and kept there willingly. I once saw someone build a damn of sausages and toast to save their mushrooms from drowning on their plate. Their attempt was futile. I can only assume the only way to segregate your food from baked beans and their fluid is to keep them in a bowl independent from your meal. That would, however, require one to eat a spoon of pure baked bean, with nothing to distract from the noxious taste or texture.
After they have been eaten, my torture isn’t over. When the bean-tainted plate is removed there is always, ALWAYS a bean remaining on the table. It’s sitting there, thinking it’s got away from its bio bin grave. Surrounded by a thin layer of source smeared on the counter. Cold and still gleaming in the light. How can just one bean make me squint? When it’s wiped up, the weak bean structure squashes into the cloth, causing further insult.
God forbid I have to wash up the dishes. The dishwater will be polluted with a reddish tint and the sink strainer will expose a naked pale bean after having its coating washed off.
A world without baked beans would be a better one. Can we agree to get fiber and protein from other foodstuffs? It would make my life indefinitely happier.
