1 pound - Italy - Organic These beans have a beautiful mottled skin, with maroon-colored spots against a creamy background. The color fades with cooking, but their texture remains just this side of firm even with long cooking. Their faintly nutty flavor pairs well with bitter greens, tomato-based sauces and soups and hearty stews.

There are plenty of dishes that would welcome the borlotti; they’re mild, toothsome, filling… Just about the perfect, all-purpose bean. But I have to admit that I was tempted to commit the sin of putting them in a decorative glass jar for display, forever. But a girl’s gotta eat, so what’s to be made of them? Caldo Verde is a traditional Portugese dish with kale, chorizo and beans, and is an awesome way to experience the nice thickening power of slow-cooked legumes.

Spain is another borlotti-loving country. Cooked and cooled berlotti beans tossed with sherry vinegar, Spanish olive oil, chopped parsley, shaved manchego and a sprinkling of smoked piementon wouldn’t be the worst way to spend an afternoon.

But while I was peering down at these beautiful beans, I heard the faint but persistent call of mangalitsa lard from the refer shelf. (C’mon, I know you hear it sometimes, too). When you hear the call of the lard, you must obey… So after simmering about a cup and a half of presoaked beans in some good stock until the beans were very tender, I put some mangalitsa lard a cast iron pan and heated it up. I added some onion and garlic, and then tossed the beans in, along with some of their cooking water. I crushed them really well with a potato masher until they were nice and soft but not completely smooth.

At this point a sane person might have stopped, but I thought better of it and fried up some tortillas (in more lard, of course) until they were nice and toasty. I added a little salt and pepper to the beans, squeezed a little lime over the tortilla crisps, and ate myself into a bean and lard-induced coma.