Rice And Beans Is The Culinary Backbone Of Brazil
Brazil is perhaps best known for soccer, samba, bossa nova, beaches, and Carnival, but the foods of Brazil are equally treasured. Growing up in Rio, my life was shaped by food. As a little girl, my mãe took me to the farmers’ market, where food and people connect intensely. I tasted the beautiful pink guava that perfumed the air, and the wrinkled-skin chayote squash, resembling the faces of older fishermen. I was intoxicated by the vibrant colors and tropical flavors of local produce, which matched the delightful and at times eccentric personalities that brought the market to life.
On the weekends, my family practically lived at the beach, and then—still dressed in swimsuits and flip-flop sandals—we’d go straight to a botequim, a simple type of restaurant that started in Brazil in the late 1800s by (and for) Portuguese immigrants. The menu is written on chalkboards, the tables are squeaky, and the chairs are bare, but the atmosphere is magical. Ideas, conversations, and music flow through the tables of a botequim, and eating there with my family is among my favorite memories of home. It also cemented my love for rice and beans.
Brazil is a rice-and-beans nation. This duo is the backbone of every household in the country. One does not exist without the other. Across Latin America, rice and beans are eaten daily with innumerable preparations. In Cuba, for example, white rice is prepared with black beans, to make moros y cristianos or arroz congri. In Nicaragua and Costa Rica, the dish is called gallo pinto ( "red rooster"), where red beans are lightly toasted, imparting a nutty flavor. In Mexico, rice and black beans are often garnished with tomatoes, scallions, cilantro, cheese, and sour cream. And in the Caribbean and Central America, rice might be prepared with coconut milk and served with either pinto or red kidney beans.
Traditionally, Brazilians prepare white rice with black beans. The rice is rinsed thoroughly to wash all the starch away. Then it’s cooked with onions, bay leaves, and salt in a bit of oil until lightly toasted, to develop the aroma of the rice. Water is added and the grains must absorb all of the liquid, leaving bubbling holes on the surface as a sign that the grain absorbed all the moisture. Brazilians like their rice quite loose (bem soltinho), never sticky; that’s why we wash it beforehand.
As for the beans, there is no question: black beans rule Brazil. But Brazilians, in general, love legumes. Acarajé, the famous Bahian fritter with deep roots in West Africa, is prepared with black-eyed peas. Feijão tropeiro, a recipe prepared with sausage and yucca starch, is prepared with red kidney beans. And of course feijoada, our national dish, a black bean and meat stew with many different types of meat, which may explain our preference for black beans with our rice.
In my country, rice and beans is more than a recipe. It’s a culinary symbol of our national identity. And while food can be a class divider, in Brazil, it is a class connector; a common ground, an equalizer. The same rice and beans served at fancy hotels are also served at Rocinha, the largest favela in Latin America. Many Brazilians live mainly on rice and beans, a protein-rich combination that requires little prep. The only work involved is cooking time; beans need 45 to 60 minutes altogether, and rice wins the race with 15 to 20 minutes.
Preparing them is a ritual in every household. It starts by spreading dried beans on a flat tray, discarding any pebbles or debris. Then the beans are rinsed (not soaked) then transferred to a pressure cooker. The sound of beans cooking in the pressure cooker is as Brazilian as the music of Tom Jobim or Caetano Veloso.
As I have traveled the world, I’ve tried dozens of variations of rice and beans. The traditional rice and beans—as served on the botequins of Rio de Janeiro—always bring me back to my roots. It’s also how I cook for my kids in my American kitchen, as they both grew up going to Brazil and enjoying the same botequim experience I had as a kid.
These days, I have a healthier, more modern approach to my beans, which I often serve alongside salads and vegetables. But I still love the classic version, which is an excellent side for beef or chicken, and always reminds me of home.
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