Two years ago I baked a couple loves of white bread using Julia Child’s recipe. They were nothing particularly special as far as breads go – the kind with the not-too-crusty crust that’s shaped like a caricature of toast when sliced. Soon after I made a peanut butter and jam sandwich on the aforementioned bread to pack in a school lunch (no allergies!), and it has since become referred to by W as My Favourite Bread. He asks for it by name, with butter or peanut butter or poached eggs or as a sandwich, and always quietly smiles when I have a loaf of it, or he sees me making a batch. But at one point I started to feel guilty for doling out so many thick slices of white bread, and figured I’d best inject some nutrition into it. In the form of pureed white beans, of course. They’re starchy, thick and have very little flavour on their own – they literally blend right in.
I’m a fan of grainy breads – as a kid, it was whole wheat or nothing, preferably thin, square slices of dark bio bread that were so loaded with whole grains and seeds they practically crumbled when you took one out of the bag. (I asked for Wonder Bread for my birthday one year, and actually got it.)
I get the appeal of white bread, unfettered by tweedy grains, and I can empathize with W’s love for white bread sandwiches. And yet – there’s no reason white bread should consist of little more than white flour and yeast. I’ve done plenty of baking with pureed white beans in the past – they boost fibre as well as protein – and so I whizzed up a can to add to the dough, and hey! They blend right in – a sleuthy nutritional boost to his PB & J and morning toast. I am the bean ninja.