I cannot remember having green beans as a kid—not even once.  When I was 12 and began taking French in school, green beans, haricot verts, became my favorite thing to say.  I began asking for them at the grocery store, mostly because my French was limited and it was far easier to say (and eat) than endive.

Once we’d get them home my mother would get out a strainer and run them under cold water, snapping off the ends.  When she was young, my mother had played the mother in “Our Town,” a play done as a pantomime.  Her character sat on the porch (which was real), snapping beans (which were fake), into her apron (also real).

I’m not sure how much I really like green beans for the taste, but they certainly have a lot of positive associations.


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