A classic. A standby. An economical meal. However you think of it, rice and beans can be a tasty and comforting experience.

Let me start with the rice. In my household, until about two weeks ago, it was white short-grain rice, end of story. Living with a Japanese national, there is just no other kind of rice to be eaten. I’ve been gently reminded on many occasions that to some Japanese people, brown rice is reminiscent of poverty, it’s what you eat only if you have to. White rice is the rice of plenty, of having made it.

Feeling bold, I bought my first batch of brown rice in ages last week. As a concession, I bought short grain, which I prefer anyway to long grain. (Not that Yuji will eat it anyway, long or short.) I like to soak the rice, just covered, on the counter, for a few hours before cooking. Mostly because this shortens the cooking time.

When ready to cook it, if I have homemade stock on hand, I’ll discard the soaking water and add the stock, otherwise I just cook with the soaking liquid. I add a dash of salt, and sometimes, maybe a splash of soy sauce, or a chunk of white onion. (Unless I plan to eat the leftovers for breakfast, then no savory additions.) I always take the rice off the heat in less time than instructed. For brown rice I might simmer it for 30 minutes, turn off the heat, and leave it covered for 20 minutes before serving.

Now about those beans. I am in love. Some of you have been in this relationship for ages already, but I am a relative newcomer to Cayuga Pure Organics. They grow dry beans and grains outside of Ithaca, New York, a place near and dear to my heart. Luckily I can buy these suckers at both the Union Square Greenmarket or the McCarren Park market on Saturdays. I’ve been buying their cornmeal for polenta for a couple years, but only in the last six months ventured to their beans.

And thank goodness I did! I love these black turtle beans. And in a future post I promise to publish the recipe I use for their luscious white Cannellini beans. The black beans are a mere $3 for about a week’s worth of protein. Because the beans are so fresh, you only need to soak them for 2-3 hours, covered with water, on the counter. Whereas with older beans that may have been sitting on a shelf for a year, you would need to soak overnight, which I know intimidates people, because who can plan ahead like that?

Then I discard the soaking liquid, transfer the beans to a large stock pot, and cover with a mixture of homemade stock and water. I throw in a carrot, onion, celery rib, salt, and make a little pouch of spices in cheesecloth: juniper berries, cumin seeds, fennel seeds, and black peppercorns. Bring to a boil, then simmer, partially covered for 45 mins. to an hour.

Then I might like to sautee these in garlic and olive oil on the stove, add some cayenne, maybe something green like spinach or broccoli rabe. Or just eat them over rice with a dollop of plain yogurt.

Easter Sunday. The last few years Yuji and I have gone to my grandmother’s for Easter. She lives alone in the same house in Levittown she bought with my grandfather in 1955 or 56.

I like going to my grandmother’s on Easter – it reminds me of being a kid. Peeps, bad sugary chocolate, Easter bunny cake. Those baskets with the fake cellophane grass.

This year I found a recipe online for carrot coconut cake. It was originally published in the 80s in the New York Times. That’s it in the photo above, decorated with jelly beans, and, of course, a pink Peep. It has whipped cream with shredded coconut folded in. I had fun making the cake on Saturday, but to be honest, I didn’t love the results and am not posting the recipe here.

Partly it might be my own fault. I always reduce the amount of sugar in dessert recipes. Here for instance I used unsweetened coconut instead of sweetened like the recipe called for. I used Turbinado sugar (only 1/2 c) plus 1/4 c molasses, instead of the 1 c white sugar that was listed. I also only had 9″ cake pans instead of 8″, so the cake came out a little flat.

In the end it tasted more like something you’d have for breakfast than cake for dessert. My grandmother was kind and said she liked it but I could tell she wasn’t thrilled. She left half her slice untouched, a rare occurrence for a woman who would prefer to sustain herself on coffee cake and Entenmann’s than real food.

But I still think it looks pretty and festive! Below is my hand-whipped cream. Do you know how long it takes to whip a pint of heavy cream with a whisk? 22 minutes. (My hand blender broke.)

Five years ago this month I became a member of the Park Slope Food Co-op. I was in food heaven. I lived around the corner on 5th Avenue, had a great work crew – Thursday Week C cash register 8:30 to 10:30 pm – and couldn’t believe I could try five different cheeses for $5 total. The produce tasted fresh, and it cost the same for organic as it did conventional at regular grocery stores.

But then a year later I moved up north to Williamsburg. Probably only 4 miles away as the crow flies, but if you know Brooklyn, you know how hard it is to travel north-south, and in particular between the Slope and the Burg. With a heavy heart, I put my membership on hold – meaning I didn’t have to work, but also couldn’t shop. They promised I could rejoin whenever I wanted.

I decided today was the day to sign back up. While I love the speciality stores in my hood, plus Fresh Direct and Fairway, I missed the Co-op. I dusted off my membership card and headed south. I walked in and inhaled deeply. Ahhhh. That smell. Either you know or you don’t. If you’ve spent any time in any natural food stores you know it: a little musty, a little like grains in bulk bins mixed with lavender soap. It felt like coming home.

My bubble burst when the membership office told me I needed to come back with a piece of mail or a bill showing proof of address. I offered the New Yorker and New York magazines in my bag, both containing my current address, but the friendly membership officer wasn’t budging.

Ok, co-op, I haven’t given up. I’ll be back. On Saturday. Con Ed bill in one hand, my calendar in the other. I’ll be signing up for those “Ftop” shifts, even if they are at 5:30 am unloading trucks. Oh how I’ve missed you.