Learning about Favas (and a Spring Pea-Fava Pesto)

Once, there was a recipe that looked oh-so-very-tasty. It was a pasta with a fava pesto sauce. Fava beans were beautifully photographed in the half-shell. Scattered across the brown paper bag they were purchased in, the green, slightly fuzzy, pods had been discarded and a steaming plate of pasta was in the forefront. I made it within days. And it sucked. I mean, it was so bitter even copious amounts of cheese (my usual fix-it) left me feeling pretty disappointed.

Still, ever curious about the world of favas, I did some asking around. Illumination my friends, pure fava illumination. There is a double shell. Yep. Now, if you want to eat them raw, snack-style, the double shell need not be removed. In fact, one doesn't even notice it. But if you want to cook them, even slightly, the outer jacket of the fava bean has got to go. The way to do this is get a pot of water boiling, and in the meantime, start popping the fava beans out of the pods. Then toss in the pot and boil for 1 minute. Have a bowl of ice water ready for when you scoop them out of the pot. You want to stop the cooking or it will be too difficult to peel. After cooled, strain from the water, and pop the bean in half to reveal the inner bean. This is what you want. The outer jackets can be tossed.

 

Now that you've done a bit of kitchen soul-searching to find your inner bean, feel free to stick it all in a food processor and mix up into a pesto. I had some fresh peas around, so I boiled them for about 5 minutes (along with the inner fava beans) to do a pesto with some basil and Pecorino cheese. It was really nice on top some simple fish fillets (with the old peas 'n carrots stand-by, which, at times, can fit the bill perfectly.) But the next day, mixed into a pot of some perfectly al dente-ed spaghetti, it turned transcendent. Now, unless you are deathly allergic to them, run, don't walk, and go get yourself some favas!

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Enthusiastic Eaters and an Artichoke Frittata

Cooking can be as simple or as complex as you make it. A long rambling recipe can be such a joy to read and an inspiration with scrumptious results. A quick post-market lunch of hand-made tortellini and mushrooms picked lovingly by the same elderly man who sold them to you can be so ultimately satisfying in such a different way.

What we sometimes forget, however, is the tremendous impact of the people whom we are cooking for. It's almost like dating. First, you have the compatibility factors. How much salt, any dietary restrictions, and other personal preferences. But then comes something less tangible. Chemistry, I believe it is often called. It transcends the actual contents of the meal and touches a much more personal level. You can cook and eat with someone who likes the exact same things as you, but something just doesn't click. Maybe they are too critical, or not critical enough. Maybe they desire a formal presentation and you are more of a pan-to-plate kind of a cook. Whatever the case, finding good eating companions can sometimes be more of an accomplishment than tracking down an authentic truffle oil. 

 It's true I've not posted a recipe in quite some time. Maybe I was lacking the company of enthusiastic eaters. Or maybe I just got buried under life like so many of us tend to get.

Today I had a moment, an artichoke frittata brunch moment to be precise, in which to pause and be grateful for new friends who are very enthusiastic eaters. And this is something to appreciate.  

(Although, seeing as it is mother's day, I wish I lived close enough to share brunch with you, mum!)

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Flavia's Strawberry Pasta

Strawberry pasta salad with cucumbers, fresh mozzarella, and basil turned out to be a refreshing spring lunch. I can imagine this as a sort of picnic fare, as it is best at room temperature and would travel well. With a sweet balsamic glaze and a pinch of salt it was still a dish with a soft flavour. I am toying with the idea of switching out the mozzarella for some tangy chucks of feta cheese next time.

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Ribboned Zucchini and Parmesan Salad

Eating out, exploring new restaurants, is not only such a pleasure in itself, but can often inspire dishes to be recreated at home. A few weeks ago I shared a few bites of a starter salad of delicate ribbons of zucchini atop some punchy arugula. Lovely chunks of Parmesan were stuffed between the curls and some deeply flavoured olive oil was drizzled over all. Perfetto.

Since then, there have been few waking moments where that salad hasn't been on my mind. So this week, I've been doing the same, with the addition of fresh lemon juice, Maldon sea salt, and with some warmed Italian flatbread called Piadina. Fresh and simple, it works beautifully as a light lunch, a starter, or even as a late night meal for those working evening hours and facing that dreaded 11pm I-need-a-quick-and-light-meal-and-don't-want-to-dive-into-the-bag-of-tortilla-chips-again moment. Although I must warn, try this salad once, and you'll be dreaming of zucchini ribbons for weeks to come!

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My Multi-Cultural Goulash

Another wee blog absence has gone by...the last few weeks have been filled to the brim with 'important things to do' and weekends that disappear in a flash.

One such weekend was spent back in Brno eating platefuls of dumplings and meat with my favourite 'granat' pivo to wash it all down.

I hadn't noticed how much I'd missed Czech food (despite years of moderately good-natured kvetching) until I arrived, and my hosts asked if I was hungry. I replied, nope, I had řízek (schnitzel) for lunch before the flight. In Italy? Up went the eyebrows...Ummm, yes, I confess, I made řízek for lunch in Italy. At least I didn't smash it between bread slices and bring it on the plane with me à la traditional-Czech-travel-snack.

And what should happen when I'm back in Rome, in my kitchen, staring at some choice pieces of beef stew meat I'd just picked up? Yes, goulash.

Yet this is not just any goulash. This is a trans-national goulash. Using a smoked Spanish paprika, marjoram in the Czech style, but served on polenta like in northern Italy. (Note: the American tradition of tossing in elbow macaroni will never taint a goulash from my kitchen - but anything else goes!)

Just like any goulash with strict country origins, it's quickly prepared, with a long simmer, and the flavour improves on the second day. Last year I fiddled with getting a traditional Czech recipe right and came up with this one. It was complete with homemade bread dumplings, which I must say that while polenta is a nice twist, nothing pairs with goulash like dumplings.

Some weekend, when I am truly Czech nostalgic, I will figure out a way to make one of the best street sweets on the planet - trdelník - a crispy yet soft tube of dough cooked on a hot iron and rolled in sugar, cinnamon, or nuts. When warm and fresh, it can't be beaten.



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Chicken Fricassée and Olive Snobbery

If (insert colour of choice here) is the new black, then surely the Gaeta olive is the new Kalamata.

Once a sought-after niche item, jars of plump Kalamatas now grace the shelves of even the smallest American supermarkets. After those dark Greek orbs were widespread enough for the foodies to snub the slightest mention of Kalamata, in marched the Niçoise. It was French, and had a crazy letter C, which made the pronunciation intimidating enough to make the average American home-cook shy away from them. It was perfect. The foodies were happy with their Niçoise, that is, until the cooking magazines published enough retro Niçoise salad recipes, coaxing middle America to roll out that niswaaaaahhhz while ordering in chain restaurants and chatting with friends at book club. The foodies had to move on.

The Italian Gaeta is smaller than the Kalamata, and not as difficult to pronounce as the Niçoise, but nevertheless hasn't had a salad named after it, so is still somewhat under the radar. Now, I haven't seen too many recipes specifying Gaeta olives yet...but it will come. Of this, I am sure.

If, but more likely when, Gaeta olives present themselves to you, a great dish to show them off in is a simple and quick chicken fricassée. I've been falling harder and harder for this stove-top method of cooking whatever choice chicken pieces are fresh at the market. Anything but another pan-fried chicken breast is what my taste buds crave (have I mentioned the lack of oven at the moment? I thank my lucky stars I'm not a baking fiend, but I do miss my Sunday roast like something else.) A fricassée is such a great way to make a complete meal for two with minimal time and effort. I usually add in leeks and whatever else is seasonal. Here, rosemary, tomatoes, and the coming-of-in-vogue-age Gaetas make an appearance. It was savoury, the chicken wasn't soggy thanks to browning it well first, and the sauce was amazing. A repeat will be soon.

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Purple Potato Salad from the Sea

Insalata di Patate e Calamari was a dish discovered years ago. A light potato salad with baby squid and a black olive tapenade spread mixed into the dressing. The flavours were out of this world. It wasn't very pleasing to the eye, however, as the tapenade tinged the potatoes grey. Enter the purple potato. These babies do loose a bit of vibrancy when boiled, but when spritzed with the lemon afterwards, bounce right back to a startling violet hue. Perfect for salads.

I remember reading Rome-blogger Apron and Sneaker's post about her hunt for violet potatoes, and so when I stumbled upon them at a local market, I quickly nabbed a few packages. I new they were prime for salads. The memories of the calamari salad I'd made years ago had left quite the impression. It's the heavy dose of tapenade in the dressing that makes it stand out among potato salads. Zingy lemon and a bright black olive spread tie the potatoes and seafood together just so well.

I've used strictly calamari in the past, but this time went for a calamari-based seafood mix I'd picked up. The seafood is brought to life in a quick aromatic boil of wine and herbs, then cooled to be mixed with the potatoes. Not at all overly fishy for a salad, and would serve well as a light lunch or side to a grilled meaty main.

Next time violet potatoes present themselves, I'm trying Apron and Sneaker's salad with tomatoes, pancetta, and blue cheese. But for now, while biding my time for proper fresh tomatoes, this bright salad from the sea is just what the mid-winter blahs needs.

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