Sunny fall afternoons in elementary school always meant good food at my house. Walking into my home, I’d see the uncooked beans on our round dining room table and immediately I would know what was coming next. Feijoada is a traditional Brazilian dish that when done correctly requires one to sort through the uncooked beans one by one, to search for rocks and duds. My father and I would sit down at the table together, soaking in the sunlight from the huge bay window behind us and begin. As we talked about everything from school that day to the news, our hands would also begin to move in rythym to the samba that constantly played while my father cooked in the afternoons. More often that not, my father and I would start tapping out our own beats