The definitive bean tier list

..that's tearing the internet apart

I've never been one to shy away from controversial topics. While others tiptoe around the edges of the culture wars, I dive in headfirst, fearlessly asking the hard-hitting questions.

Today, I'm tackling the most divisive issue of our time. It has ended friendships and torn families apart: Which beans are best?

I think we can have a civil discourse about the b-word, if we come equipped with the proper theoretical framework. For example:

1. What makes for a good bean?

2. What is the fundamental essence of bean-ness?

3. If I eat a bean in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, does my fart make a sound?

#2 and #3 are a bit too deep and technical to address today (but I’m happy to do a follow up post by popular demand), but I can cover #1 briefly: There are 6 factors to consider when comparing the virtue of beans:

• Versatility (how many culinary guises can it successfully adopt?)

• Charisma (does it command respect on the plate?)

• Mouthfeel (e.g. fava beans are famous for their dense, tightly woven mouthfeel and velvety tannins)

• Raw sex appeal (self-explanatory)

• Historical significance (has it overthrown empires or merely sustained them)

• Digestive aftermath (what kind of rectal fortitude does it demand of its user?)

After years of on-the-ground research, countless bean-induced sleepless nights and bottles of Bean Assist™, I present to you the definitive bean hierarchy. Before you come at me in the comments, remember: this is science, not opinion. You’re welcome to disagree, just know that you’re objectively incorrect.

First, a redacted version of the tier list, with cryptic placeholders for each bean. How many can you guess correctly?

S-Tier: Bean Royalty

• Butter Beans (aka Lima Beans): The creamy monarchs of the legume world. They score particularly high on mouthfeel and raw sex appeal — there's something undeniably sensual about them... a certain je ne sais quoi. Perhaps it's their unmistakable moistness or their Peruvian provenance. If you've never experienced the velvety caress of a perfectly cooked butter bean, you're living in the culinary dark ages. Recipe recommendation: Mediterranean Butter Bean Salad w. Lemon-Herb Dressing

“These Lima beans are even better than the ones we had for breakfast and lunch..” See the clip

• Chickpeas (Garbanzo Beans): The bean everyone forgets is a bean. "But Aidan, are they really tha—" Yes. Hummus. End of discussion. Chickpeas are a true ‘renaissance bean’, excelling in their versatility and historical significance. Ancient civilizations rose and fell on the humble chickpea, and if AI doesn’t end us, our love of chickpeas surely will. Recipe recommendation: Chole Bhature, which you’re probably better off eating at a restaurant than trying at home.

• Soybeans: Soybeans are just straight-up overpowered. In fact, they prove that God doesn’t exist, because an omniscient God would have had the foresight to nerf their stats before setting them loose in the wild. On versatility alone, they're peerless, giving rise to soy milk, tofu, soy sauce, miso, tempeh, gochujang, edamame, yogurts, ice creams, protein powders and even candles. Soybeans are the shapeshifters of the bean universe, sprinkling a bit of protein any place they go. Recipe recommendation: You don’t need a recipe to eat soybeans. They are inescapable. A soy bean is watching you right now. Stalking you. Waiting for the moment to strike.

A-Tier: Bean Extraordinaires

• Black Beans: We all know that chickpeas are the ‘alpha male’ bean, while soy is for beta ‘soy boys’ like myself, but it took scientists until 2025 to discover that black beans are the ‘sigma male’ bean. Black beans are hustling every day, doing the ‘rise and grind’ to elevate Central and South American cuisine to new heights. They have charisma, gravitas, and certain mystique that keeps you coming back for more. Recipe recommendation: Mexican bowl ft. plantain.

• Pinto Beans: If you had spoken to me just a month ago, pinto beans wouldn't have gotten a look in at A-tier. But I've been doing a lot of work on myself lately, and I've finally awakened to truth that was in front of me all along. My experience shows that while beans can't change, people can. Recipe recommendation: Cajun refried beans on toast.

B-Tier: Bean Gentry

• Cannellini Beans: I’m going to say something now that might shock you. Cannellini Beans are quite good. There. I’ve just said what we all whisper behind closed doors, but what no sitting president has ever had the guts to say in public. The sad truth is that “cannellini beans bring a certain refinement to soups, stews and salads but can come across as aloof and boring if not properly seasoned” is the kind of nuanced statement that’s political suicide to say in the modern discourse. Recipe recommendation: Lifechanging stew with sourdough bread.

• Fava Beans: Forever tainted by their association with liver and Chianti, these beans have been trying to rebrand themselves for decades. They pair reliably with garlic (a dependable comfort in the unstable times we live in) but they lose points for the “Luke, I am your fava”-style Dad-jokes they elicit from my partner’s dad. Recipe recommendation: Garlicky fava dip,

• Adzuki Beans: Also known red beans, these are criminally underrated outside of Asia. They earn bonus points for breaking out of the savory role beans have been typecast into. Spanning both savory and sweet applications is revolutionary bean praxis. Recipe recommendation: Protein-packed chocolate brownies

D-Tier: Bean Peasantry

• Kidney Beans: A filler bean. They show up in every chili more out of tradition than merit. They severely lack in charisma, but their digestive aftermath is their true downfall – chaotic and vengeful, especially if undercooked. Recipe recommendation: [Redacted]. Kidney beans are platformed too much in cookbooks already.

  

  “It must have been that bean I ate for dinner”. Homer’s lie is only plausible if it was a kidney bean. See the clip

• Navy Beans: These are the most common ones used in baked beans, which, as we all know, are middling at best. These beans lose points for not delivering on the nautical theme they promise. Recipe recommendation: I was recently taught the alchemy of combining low-sugar baked beans with Lao Gan Ma, and let me just say that baked beans may be redeemable yet.

F-Tier: Bean Pariahs

• Green Beans: Their scientific name is phaseolus vulgaris. Coincidence? I think not. They’re always either too crunchy or too mushy, with no acceptable middle ground. Their charisma is non-existent. At the end of the day, I’ve just never liked them, and because I’m not one to judge things for no reason, they must have some sort of deep irredeemable character flaw. Maybe they’re a bit fascist? Yeah that’s probably it. Recipe recommendation: Nothing. Avoid.

• Mung Beans: They smell like the elderly. The elderly are great, but scent isn't their comparative advantage. Recipe recommendation: Don’t touch them in their whole bean form. Buy them once they’ve gone through puberty and blossomed into delicious bean sprouts.

There you have it. The definitive bean list that Big Legume doesn't want you to see. I hope that this helps you better navigate this fraught but inevitable topic on your next first date. And remember, disagreeing with my bean rankings isn't just incorrect — it's a moral failing that reflects poorly on your character, your upbringing and brings shame on your family.

Requiem for a Bean - An epilogue dedicated to prominent beans I’ve never tasted

These beans aren’t just unknown to me — some would say they’re unknowable altogether.

• Black-eyed Beans: Their musical sound-alikes The Black-eyes Peas have done irreversible harm to this bean’s reputation and as a result I can’t bring myself to try them. Are you proud of yourself Fergie? Your silence is deafening will.i.am.

• Great Northern Beans: Where do you even buy these? They sound like they should be hauling cargo on Arctic shipping routes, not sitting on my plate. Are they really that great? Are they actually from the north? I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t want to know.