Break off the tops and bottoms and “string” carefully. _Then_ pare both
edges with a sharp knife, to be certain that no remnant of the tough
fibre remains. Not one cook in a hundred performs this duty as deftly
and thoroughly as it should be done. I have heard several gentlemen
say that they could always tell, after the first mouthful, whether the
mistress or the hireling had “strung” the beans. It is a tedious and
disagreeable business, this pulling bits of woody thread out of one’s
mouth when he wants to enjoy his dinner.
Cut the beans thus cleared of their troublesome _attachés_, in pieces
an inch long, and lay in cold water with a little salt for fifteen or
twenty minutes. Drain them, and put into a saucepan of boiling water.
Boil quickly, twenty minutes if well-grown—less if small—at any rate,
until tender. Drain in a cullender until the water ceases to drip from
them. Dish with a great spoonful of butter stirred in.
To my taste, beans _need_ to have a bit of bacon boiled with
them—whole, or chopped into bits that dissolve in the boiling. It
mellows the rank taste you seek to remove by boiling.