Grandma’s Black Bean Brownies — “Only Share with the Potluck Crowd”

Some of Grandma’s recipes came with cryptic warnings: “Never show Betty,” “Don’t tell Kathy,” or “Hide from Linda.” But this one? This one was different. Scribbled across the top of a recipe card tucked inside her crossword puzzle book, in her sharpest penmanship, it said:

“Only share with the potluck crowd.”

At first glance, it looked like a decadent chocolate brownie recipe — cocoa, sugar, butter, all the makings of sweet bliss. But one ingredient stopped me in my tracks: two full cups of black beans.

“Beans in brownies?” I muttered. Grandma was either a genius or a prankster.

Still, I dove in. The beans were cooked soft (though, looking back, I realize

Grandma’s recipe didn’t mention anything about how to cook them properly — more on that in a moment). Into the blender they went, whirling into a smooth paste, then folded into a mountain of chocolatey goodness.

The smell was intoxicating. Rich. Fudgy. Like the kind of brownies you’d proudly bring to an office party to secure your place in the “best coworker ever” hall of fame.

Naturally, I ate one. Then another. Then… well, several more.

And then the toots began.

Not delicate little chirps. No, these were full brass-band fanfares. The kind of symphony that could rattle chair legs. Within an hour, I realized — with dawning horror — why Grandma had marked the recipe “Only share with the potluck crowd.”

She didn’t mean “because they’re delicious.” She meant “because if everyone eats them together, no one can single you out as the culprit.”

The kicker? I had already boxed up half the pan and dropped it off at the office, where my coworkers were burning the weekend oil. By Sunday morning, the office must have sounded like a tuba section warming up.

Later, I learned what Grandma had conveniently left out of her recipe card:

Southern cooks have two tricks to tame bean-induced brass sections. One is soaking and re-soaking dried beans several times before cooking. The other is dropping a peeled potato into the pot while the beans simmer — the potato quietly absorbs all the “gassy elements” before being discarded.

Grandma’s recipe had neither. And I? I learned the hard way.

So here it is, Grandma’s infamous Black Bean Brownies. Delicious, fudgy, and secretly weaponized. If you make them, you might want to keep the “potluck” rule alive. Or at least hand out earplugs with each serving.

Grandma’s Black Bean Brownies

Ingredients

• 2 cups cooked black beans (soft, drained, and rinsed, made from dried beans at home)

• ¾ cup cocoa powder

• 1 cup sugar

• ½ cup melted butter

• 3 eggs

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

• ½ tsp salt

• ½ tsp baking powder

• ½ cup chocolate chips (optional, but oh-so-worth-it)

Instructions

1. Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease an 8x8-inch baking pan.

2. In a blender or food processor, purée the beans until smooth.

3. In a bowl, whisk together cocoa, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla, salt, and baking powder. Stir in bean purée until well combined.

4. Fold in chocolate chips, pour into prepared pan, and smooth the top.

5. Bake for 25–30 minutes, until a toothpick comes out mostly clean (fudgy is best).

6. Cool before slicing. Serve cautiously.

💨 Grandma’s note still stands: Only share with the potluck crowd.