The Journal of an Urban Adventurer; #12: Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit.
Entry posted by Kzoppistan
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*Excerpts from a book I'm writing, all of it's true. I'm going to work my entries back to #1 in the coming days, and then forward again.
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After about four hours sleep, I get up to help the Girlfriend work on her old apartment. Sleep in the car was poor and I required lots of coffee. On the upside, she fed me some breakfast, assuaging the gnawing hunger that had grown even stronger from the night before.
Afterward I made my way downtown towards the library. Making a detour, I stop at a mechanic's shop. I introduced my self and asked if they had any spare old batteries to donate to my "little project." The head mechanic, who chose not to shake my hand and continued to work while talking, explained that very few shops would have any batteries anymore since there is a core charge on them of about 8 bucks. So not only do mechanics have to turn in old batteries, but there is a "market" for them, as well. I thanked him and moved on. Learning this made the prospect for finding one slimmer. I would just have to improvise.
At the library I researched the make up of various batteries. Remarkably simple once you understand about the ion differentials in metals. I studied a few how-to's for making you own. Rechargable ones are what I am most interested in, considering my extreme interest in consumable conservation, but unfortunately, lead plates and lead dioxide are outside of my current procurement/creation level. Never-the-less, there are other possibilities...
I picked up my plastic bag of water and red beans from the car along with some lemon pepper seasoning, a fork, and a cooking pot. I chewed one of the beans; it was saturated from the overnight soaking but still very wet-crunchy. I snagged a discarded local paper along the way.
I was worried since my pot and fork had not been washed before my hasty exit and sat in the trunk of car for some time. Entering the city park, I stopped by one of water fountains and scrubbed the pot and fork to the best of my ability. I had some dishsoap somewhere at one time (maybe the storage unit) but I couldn't find any in my car. I would just have to be very thorough.
Setting the supplies down at the end table under the shelter, by the kid's playground, next to the bbq grill, I considered my surroundings. At the other end of the patio sat The Bag Lady.
I had seen her around many times before. Sometimes walking, but here lately mostly at the park. Dressed in her full winter coat despite the 90 degree heat. Clustered around her like a palisade were hundreds upon hundreds of plastic bags stuffed into other plastic bags. She carried them everywhere, tied to her arms and held in her little brown hands. Like a giant plastic bag monster. And pushed a cart filled with hundreds more. They spilled over the top. Nobody seems to know why. My only attempt to converse with her produced nothing but gibberish. She sat, staring vacantly out into the playground, soundless talking to herself. I figured my loot would be safe while I scouted.
I search for the various pieces of wood I would need, going back to a spot I observed earlier. I was concerned because, 1. I hadn't built more than 2 or 3 fires since Boy Scouts (yeah, yeah, I was boy scout, laugh it up. I thought it was cool), and 2. it had rained heavily yesterday. I figured the area at the base of the trees would have the driest wood and luckily it was so.
After gathering the thickest wood I could find, none of which was any larger than my wrist, the tinder and kindling, I arranged a tri-log cabin base, with a tepee top in the grill. Some weird seed casing that split into what looked like hundreds of packed together petals made the best tender. Using the paper, some of which I shredded, I did my best to get a fire going.
It took some time and few repeated starts. Once, just before the embers lit the kindling, my phone rang and I had to stop what I was doing to answer it. Damn technology XD. I finally got a good fire going, all the while catching a stare or two by some of the park strollers. My ancestors would be so proud. Considering the small store of fuel, I was concerned about putting the beans into the pot and cooling the water. I had already used up about half making sure that the water, pot, and fork were reasonably sterilized.
Over all, from arriving to the park to eating time, it took about two hours. The lemon pepper made a nice addition, but if you've ever had to cook without spices, you'll know how valuable salt is to every meal. There is a reason that the words salary and salaryman refer to the times when people were paid in salt. Such a valuable commodity is easy to take for granted, I was quickly learning.
I ate the beans, drank the soup, and rinsed out the utensils. The great thing about beans is that they are so cheap and a cup of dried beans will make a full meal once cooked. While they weren't as tender as I would have liked, they were soft and not crunchy. Had I realized the damn grill could be lowered, I might have built a full roiling boil instead of just a simmer.
After rinsing the pot, I placed it upon the cooling coals to dry it out and collected the ashes.
The first step towards the creation of my lye is complete.
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