Heart Eyes, Vol. 145: Agatha Raisin and Braised Beans with Burrata
This week, for the first time in a very long time, I started to make…plans? For the future? Nothing too ambitious, no round-the-world trips, but it seems more and more like the light at the end of this particular tunnel might not be that far away. I also read Anne Helen Petersen’s terrific piece yesterday about her mixed emotions around re-entering the world, something I’ve been thinking about a lot, myself—how I could not be more thrilled at the idea of going out and doing things and seeing people, but am also very aware that, like, a trip to the grocery store kind of wipes me out right now. (But also, seriously, could not be more thrilled. It’s both!) So: there is hope, and also uncertainty. But also hope. Whatever you’re doing this weekend, I hope it’s restorative and exactly the right thing. I think you’re doing great.
What To Watch: Agatha Raisin on Acorn TV
If you have been spending this past fall and winter devouring all the exciting and of-the-moment pandemic TV that’s been coming at us—your Mandalorians, your Wandavisions—I want you to know that I see you, and I salute you, and I hope to eventually join you. Just…not yet. Instead, for the low low price of $6/month, I have spent the last few months burrowing deep under the emotional fuzzy blanket that is Acorn TV, the British TV app, and all the goofy low-stakes television it has to offer. You don’t need to know the details—if the words “nine seasons of Doc Martin” mean anything to you, we’ll leave it at that—but I do have one charming and I think lesser-known show that might be, as they say, relevant to some of your interests.
Agatha Raisin is a cozy mystery series, based on novels by M.C. Beaton, in which a hotshot London music publicist retires to a sleepy village in the Cotswolds and takes up amateur detective work when it becomes clear that her idyllic new town is an absolute hotspot of homicidal behavior. I tried it out because of Ashley Jensen, also known as Fran, the deliciously awful friend on Catastrophe, whom I love—and honestly, I was prepared for it to be bad. But it it isn’t bad. In fact, it’s delightful, both a competent mystery series and a mostly lighthearted meditation on fitting in—which Agatha doesn’t, really, until she begins solving murders at the garden club or whatever, and a circle of village friends grows up around her as a kind of rag-tag investigation squad. It’s silly and sweet and sometimes exciting, and I’ve gotten very fond of it. You might, too. You can find Agatha Raisin on Acorn TV.
What To Cook: Braised Beans with Burrata
I had the loveliest dinner last night, something simple and I think quite elegant, which also happens to be the most amazing work-at-home food. These Braised Beans with Burrata came from Jenny Rosenstrach’s Dinner: A Love Story newsletter. It’s been a happy little stopgap while I wait for her new book, The Weekend Vegetarians, to come out—and these beans are exactly why.
About the word “elegant,” I know I once called cannellini “the most elegant bean”—a totally normal thought that I know we’ve all had—but these days I’m reconsidering my stance. And for limas, of all things! But hear me out: nearly a century of bad PR notwithstanding, lima beans, when treated kindly, can be creamy and tender and oddly luxurious. (I’m thinking of all the recipes I’ve skipped because they call for $18-a-pound Gigantes, or Coronas, if you can even find them, and realizing I’m pretty much coming for all of them now.)
In this case, with a whole three minutes of your precious time and effort, they soak all day and then simmer for an hour with a few aromatics and come out pillowy and swimming in an herby, savory broth. You can absolutely eat the beans and their broth plain—really, they’re so good—but also, there’s a whole wild world of toppings you can add if you want to gild the lily. A squeeze of lemon and a bit of olive oil, for sure; Jenny recommends a scoop of burrata and a swirl of pesto, as well. I used the burrata and the last few bites of a vegan Bolognese from a friend, and it was perfection. Perhaps you also would like to do nothing and have a beautiful dinner materialize in front of you, as if by magic? I think you know what to do.