Spilling the beans on edge

There’s a bit in the Spectrum section of the Sydney Morning Herald on Saturdays called Big Questions. I really hate it, because it’s often used to ask where certain proverbs come from. Gee, I wonder who coined the term ‘to coin a term’? Talk about boring!

That’s why today I’m going to talk about where the phrase “to spill the beans” comes from.

Once upon a time Maria Bevilaqua was sitting by the local watering hole, cooling her heels. She had just been given a recipe by her grandfather, Louie, for bean lasagne. She should have had the recipe months ago. “I don’t care what it’s been, what is it now?”, she had said at the time. Louie spat on the ground in disgust and walked away, and it took him a full 7 months to invite her once more to receive the recipe.

This recipe had been in the family for 12 generations, and was a closely guarded secret. Once it was leaked to a neighbouring village, and Old Vinnie Bevilaqua was forced to doorknock the whole village, getting them to sign affidavits saying they would never use or pass on the recipe.

Maria, who’d always had a sharp tongue, was now just enjoying the moment. A carp swam past her foot. She pulled out a bb gun and shot it in the groin. Receiving the recipe was like being admitted into the family proper. She held her head high, her face a picture of serenity now. She’d already memorised the recipe, including the optional inclusion of a sprig of sparrowbane for when the moon was full – La Luna Spumante was what the old folk called it.

Slowly Maria picked up her things and headed off to market. She knew precisely which ingredients she needed, and picked them all up without a hitch, although the Spanish onions were a little dull. She shot the vendor in the groin with her bb gun and returned home with 6 full envirobags worth of fresh produce.

When Maria got home, Louie was waiting for her. “Maria, you little s.o.b., the family tradition is that the first time you learn the recipe, you gotta cook it for someone else. And not just anyone else. Us Bevilaquas is well connected. You gonna cook the recipe for the Countess of Guidonia and her family.”

“What?! That’s ridiculous.”

“The hell it is! You gonna cook for her, you gonna cook it well, and you gonna come back and tell us all about it. Off you go.”

With that he pushed her out the door before she could even put her bags down. He stuffed the address into her skirt pocket, and ignored her incredibly obscene protestations. When she finally turned around and started trudging off, he called out.

“Maria! You’ll pass the Sfaggis of Lago Maggiore on the way. Those pricks have been trying to get this recipe for 145 years. They don’t know you’re coming, but don’t raise any attention anyway. Keep your head down and your palms pointed outwards for good luck. Now do what I say and off you go.”

By now Maria was in a sour mood, but knew she’d better heed Louie’s instructions. Ingredients in hand, she hopped onto Angelo the family mule and headed off.

It was a beautiful road that she rode down, and her mood soon lightened. What was the countess’ family like?, she wondered. How many were there? Surely gramps wouldn’t send me away with insufficient ingredients? She was genuinely excited about the possibilities of the evening. She pulled out a hipflask and knocked back a fifth of vodka. Onward she rode.

Occasionally she passed villagers going about their daily business. Some said hello, others ignored her. She remembered Louie’s warning about the Sfaggis, but was unconcerned. She pulled up beside a massive baobab, and reckoned there was another 15 minutes of riding before she got there. She hopped off Angelo to stretch her legs. The shopping bags were secured tightly behind the saddle. Just as she was about to hop back on, someone spoke to her.

“Excuse me madam, where are you going?” said a friendly middle aged woman.
“I’m off to Guidonia. If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.”

The woman smiled politely, and continued on her way. Maria rode off, but glanced back. The middle aged woman had broken into a sprint and was running in the direction of a homestead just off the road. Maria thought this unusual, but kept riding. A moment later she looked back again, and she could now see the lady talking to some other people, gesticulating frantically and pointing down the road towards… Maria!

Maria brought Angelo to a trot, and was beginning to feel very uneasy. She looked around again, and saw several people running towards her. There was a young man out in front, followed by some children.

Maria decided she would not look back again, and she rode Angelo as fast as he could go. The people didn’t seem to be catching up with her, and within a few minutes she saw Guidonia castle looming in front of her. She was confident now of making it, but still somewhat anxious. Sweat covered her entire body and she had saddle sores. Finally she reached the castle gates, and she hopped off Angelo and looked around. No one seemed to be following her, so she allowed herself a smile. She was here!

She was greeted at the gate by a portly doorman in fantastic garb. “You must be Maria. Let me help you with your bags.”

She unfastened the bags from Angelo and slapped the mule on the butt. With that Angelo rode away in the direction of home. She handed five of the six bags over to the doorman, but hesitated when it came to the all-important sixth – the home of the beans. There were green beans, red beans, white beans – you name it. She peeked inside to confirm the contents, and turned to the gate.

“Madam? There is a sixth bag. Please let me take it for you.”

“Umm, well – actually if it’s okay, I’ll hang onto it.”

“Madam, you don’t understand. Let me take it for you, it’s no problem.”

“Thank you, really, but I’d like to carry it. My wallet’s in here too.”

“Listen, I get paid by the bag. That bag is worth a lot of money to me. Please?”

“Alright! Crissakes.” She handed the bag to the doorman, but kept a watchful eye on him.

As the huge gate swung open, she stepped forward – and tripped over a cobble stone. She cried out: “Fatherf*cker!” An elderly couple standing nearby glared at her and shook their heads. Maria’s only thought was: thank God I wasn’t carrying the bag! It’s contents would have been revealed to all the world – although the Sfaggis were nowhere in sight.

As she pulled herself up the doorman rushed over to help. In doing so, he switched hands, moved the bags around and lost his grip. A single bag fell to the ground. Time seemed to slow down. The beans spilled everywhere. Maria cursed audibly and bent over to collect the beans. As she did so, she heard a high-pitched, whiny laugh. She turned around, and the laughter continued.

It was the man from the road, who had been chasing her.

“Ha ha ha! I’ve done it! I’ve discovered the secret ingredient to the Bevilaqua Lasagne. It’s beans! BEANS!!!”

He shouted it out, again and again, and walked away, still shouting.

“You idiot!,” she said to the doorman. “Do you realise what you’ve just done?”

“There there, Madam,” said the doorman. “It’s okay, we wash the beans.”

Maria felt sick. She had to act quick. She raced after the man, who was still laughing, and tapped him on the left shoulder. As he turned around, she produced an affidavit. “What’s this?” he said quizzically. Ah screw it, she thought to herself, and she pulled a knife out of her skirt pocket and stabbed the man in the chest. He dropped to the ground, and sputtered the word ‘Beans’ one last time before carking it.

Maria went on to cook the most wonderful bean lasagne for the Countess, and she lived to pass on the tale to her grandchildren, and later her children, about the fateful day she spilled the beans.

***

Of course, all of this is by the by. What I’m spilling the beans about is Edge. Edge is a science website (and notfer profit) created by literary agent John Brockman. I wouldn’t mind working for him. It contains articles, essays, videos and more, with an impressive range of regular contributors. Prominent are zoologist-cum-atheist flagbearer Richard Dawkins, maverick* molecular biologist Craig Venter, author Ian McEwan and astronomer Paul Davies. Sadly no Hofstadter there, but I like to think he just hasn’t sold out. I have to admit, there’s something a little wanky about being on the list of Edge contributors, but to be fair, if you have to be on a list it might as well be this one.

Anyway, there’s always something stimulating to read there, whether it’s about the definition of life, the end of the universe, or the vagaries of human nature. Even better, it’s meant for a lay audience but never dumbs down, there’s conflict a plenty but it’s usually respectful and with justification, and it celebrates life’s big questions.

Speaking of questions, what prompted me to make this post was the annual question and answer frenzy from Edge’s World Question Centre. Questions are posed and heaps and heaps of insightful, amusing or controversial answers are provided by the aforementioned range of contributors. This year’s question is: What have you changed your mind about? Why? Hey wait a minute, that’s two questions!

There’s always a few writers whose answers I look for – Judith Rich Harris, (she of the “peers are more influential than parents in determining our behaviour” theory), Simon Baron Cohen (similar name to Ali G’s creator), Susan Blackmore (author of the Meme Machine and a cool user’s guide to consciousness book. Am I present?), Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett, Daniel Goleman (of emotional intelligence fame), Jaron Lanier (who once proposed a more useful question like: What’s the single most effective thing we could do to make the world a better place, or something like that), John Allen Paulos (wrote Innumeracy and I Think Therefore I Laugh) and Robert Trivers.

But you never know who will write something that makes you think. So far this year I like Karl Sabbagh’s response, that he used to think experts knew better than he, but now realises they may be knowledgeable but that doesn’t make them wise. So except for their field of expertise (I would argue even in their field of expertise sometimes), you’re just as likely as them to be right about any given issue.

Here’s a list of all the questions, one per year starting in 2008 and working backwards. Sorry about the caps and underline - I abhor them. The last few have been turned into books – a great Christmas or Birthday gift for the whole family, nerds and idiots alike.

WHAT HAVE YOU CHANGED YOUR MIND ABOUT? WHY?

WHAT ARE YOU OPTIMISTIC ABOUT?

WHAT IS YOUR DANGEROUS IDEA?

"WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IS TRUE EVEN THOUGH YOU CANNOT PROVE IT?"

"WHAT'S YOUR LAW?"

"WHAT ARE THE PRESSING SCIENTIFIC ISSUES FOR THE NATION AND THE WORLD, AND WHAT IS YOUR ADVICE ON HOW I CAN BEGIN TO DEAL WITH THEM?" —GWB

"WHAT'S YOUR QUESTION?"

"WHAT NOW?"

"WHAT QUESTIONS HAVE DISAPPEARED?"

"WHAT IS TODAY'S MOST IMPORTANT UNREPORTED STORY?"

"WHAT QUESTIONS ARE YOU ASKING YOURSELF?"

* this word is always used to describe him in the media. I prefer Word’s thesaurus alternatives: unconventional person, odd one out