slow cooked favas with mint pistou

favas are my early summer reminder to slow down

favas plated on my grandmother’s plate

Just a little preface: I get it… this recipe can feel daunting or maybe just un-relatable, like where do I even get favas? The next few posts I have coming are much less reliant on a painstaking short lived hyper seasonal legume. But BUTTERED CLAMS is a reflection of my inspiration and how I truly eat. And I am learning lately that my days off MONDAY/TUESDAY are my “cooking for pleasure days.” Sometimes it’s a casual quick meal and sometimes it’s an afternoon of prepping, listening to music and eating late. So thank you for reading about my exploration of home cooking. And trust me, I don’t eat like this 100% of time (case in point…I just had a bubble tea and tortilla chips for lunch.) preface over.

All this work for a little legume, sounds like this Capricorn’s dream. If this kind of busy work sounds intimidating, enlisting a friend makes favas (with their two part shelling process) fast work. (Yes I said two parts- I love them, I don’t care!) And ultimately shelling favas reminds me that that food takes time; whether that be growing it, transporting it, making it, or even just enjoying a meal. If you choose to do this alone (which is a more common practice for me), there is something satisfying, dare I say mediative to this spring activity. I especially like that I can do it outdoors. Also, the initial shelling of favas can happen a few days before you decide to cook them. Just leave them shelled in your fridge awaiting the next steps.

I like favas almost braised, stewed or what I like to refer to as slow cooked. Favas start out almost vegetal like an unsweet pea, but once slow cooked they take on a starchy bean like character. Slow cooking transforms them into this verdant yet creamy bean. I would serve this with a white fish, like seared halibut, a poached egg with toast or a dollop of ricotta. You could even add pasta and pecorino and call it a pasta night.

I also love substituting the slow cooked favas instead of butterbeans in this classic Ottolenghi recipe that involves loves of sumac, sorrel and feta. I would still slow cook them and then proceed with the step “sauté spring onions, garlic, chili and sorrel.”

Also leftover stewed favas can become a delicious dip the next day. All leftover favas and pistou can be put into a food processor with a splash of water, a big glue of olive oil, a little grated garlic and a squeeze of lemon juice and make for a delicious spread on toast.

A pistou is essentially a simplified salsa verde, stripped down without caper and anchovy. This one is all about MINT, garlic and lemon. I think the lemon juice should be added at the last moment to ensure a bright color and vivid flavor.

RECIPE:

Slowly Braised Favas:

1 cup (almost 7 oz) shucked favas - yes its a two step process - see below*

2 cloves of garlic thinly sliced

2 juicy spring onion - about 1/2 cup thinly sliced (or 1 small yellow onion minced)

1/4 cup olive oil

1/4 cup water

salt to taste

PISTOU

2 Tab. finely chopped spring onions (I used the tops of the bulbous spring onions)

1/2 cup loosely packed parsley - finely chopped

1/2 cup loosely packed mint - finely chopped

1/2 cup olive oil

1 clove garlic

3/8 tsp salt or more to taste

1/2 Meyer lemon zested

1/2 meyer lemon juice ( maybe say I whole Meyer because mine was big)

FOR THE FAVAS:

Start by shelling the favas. I open up the fava pod and pick out the light green colored beans. At this point, I could stick them in the fridge for a couple days and proceed with the next task. If forging ahead, as I am shelling, I fill a small pot of water and bring to a boil.

Set up a large bowl of ice water and a strainer. Place the favas in the boiling water, let come up to a boil and set a timer for a minute. Once the minute is up, strain the favas and quickly plunge into the ice water. I like to leave them in here while removing the outer light green layer, but you can take them out once cooled and proceed by removing the outer thin light green layer. I like to do this by squeezing if the fava is young and tender. They should just pop out of their shell. If not, have a small pairing knife handy and make a little cut, or use a sharp fingernail and open up the light green husk, inside there will be an “ideally” beautiful green fava.

Once you have done this sysphelian task (which only proves how capable you really are.) You are ready to start cooking.

In a medium saute pan, add olive oil and heat over medium flame. Add the onions, a hefty pinch of salt and let sweat and simmer in the olive oil, they should just start to look translucent ( about 3 -5 minutes). Add the thinly sliced garlic and cook for a minute longer. Add the favas and add the water, and another hefty pinch of salt. Once the water reaches a simmer, turn the heat down to medium low and let everything simmer for about 10 minutes. After ten minutes, check the bean, it should be meltingly tender (again each fava is at a little different stage of maturity. If your fava is young and small this is all the cooking you may need. If they are very big and a bit older, they may need more time.) If the bean taste a little firm and hasn’t given way to creamy, add another 1/4 cup water and continue to cook. (You can repeat this process until the desired consistency is achieved.) Ideally I end up with most of the water evaporated and a tender bean. So you can always cook on high at the end to evaporate a little liquid, just be sure to gently move as to not burn.

While the beans are cooking, take all your chopped herbs and immediately coat in olive to help preserve the color. Add a clove of grated garlic on a microplane (or mortar with salt if you prefer.) Add salt and lemon zest. Wait until favas are done to add the lemon juice.

Put the favas in a lovely bowl, because they deserve it; you deserve it. And add the lemon juice to the pistou, generously top over fava beans.