Your Ultimate Guide to Cooking with Dried Beans (2024)

Lesson 10: Add Acid (Just Know When)

Ignore those rumors you heard about tangy ingredients like tomatoes and vinegar ruining your beans: Acid is not the enemy. Absolutely include them; just make sure to do so when the beans are almost finished cooking. If you add acid earlier, the bean skins may toughen. Tomatoes and beans are a very happy couple—they just met later in life.

Lesson 11: Pick the Right Bean for the Job

All beans start out glossy and full of promise. Cook ’em up, though, and they’ll show their true colors—some remain perky and distinct while others tend to soften and fall apart. This is to say, you need to pick the right bean for the right job. Here’s a quick guide. —Chris Morocco, senior food editor

The Softies

These delicate guys are best for soups, purées, and other applications that don’t hinge on having totally intact beans. Their thinner skins mean they have a tendency to burst and release starchiness into their cooking liquid. Try: borlotti, pinto, adzuki, cannellini, navy.

The In-Betweens

Straddling the middle are these stalwarts, which are able to maintain their shape if cooked carefully but also more than happy to break down when pushed. They’re super versatile, the Yukon Golds of the bean world. Try: black, tarbais, black-eyed peas.

The Heavy-Duties

Larger beans are the ideal candidates for salads and other cold preparations. They may take a little longer to cook, but even the creamiest varieties are held together by thick skins that help them hold their shape. Try: gigante, corona, large white.

Lesson 12: Embrace the Starch

You have our permission to overcook your beans, even to the bursting point. These broken-open beans will lend creaminess and richness to your cooking liquid without adding too much fat, the signature of super-satisfying cucina povera dishes like pasta e fa*gioli, which is basically a hug in liquid form.

Lesson 13: Sometimes, You Just Need Canned Beans

“As the editor of this magazine, I know I’m supposed to sing the praises of heirloom beans and all that, but on a Tuesday night at home, here’s my reality: Sauté some minced onion and garlic in olive oil, open a can of Goya black beans (I drain most of that mysterious viscous liquid), and dump them into the pot. Throw in some chopped cilantro. Simmer for ten minutes and remove from heat. Let sit—top on—till I’ve finished a couple bottles of beer. Serve with rice and whatever quick-fix tacos I’ve cooked up. I’d be lying if I said those beans weren’t absolutely delicious. And so would you.” —Adam Rapoport, editor in chief