Favas! Fabulous yes, but worth it?

Have you ever sat down to a nice meal where favas played a starring role? How about chestnuts? Enjoyed a course where the tiny tomatoes are peeled? Grapes? Or the clincher: turned potatoes, artichokes, carrots?

Ever wonder about who preps those items? Who coerces each fava bean from it's protective fuzzy womb, peels it, de-germs it? I do. Because at times it has been me, or my friends. Using a tiny knife to scrape out all the fuzz from the wrinkles of chestnuts. Peeling marble sized tomatoes. Making citrus brunoise.

In my own home kitchen these items are only worth it for those I love. Or if I have company to help with the prep. And long languid time.

The person who introduced me to eating raw artichokes, an Italian gentleman friends with my boss at the time, told me in no uncertain terms that Americans are frightened of the taste of bitter, hence the ubiquitous peeling of favas.

I prepare my favas and enjoy them most the way I prepped and ate them first, at LuLu almost 15 years ago.

Being the cucumber seed loving radical cook that I am, I do not blanch my favas before I peel them. With a paring knife I make a small cut on the side of the bean, peeling away the outer layer. I heat up a saute pan, add a splash of olive oil and cook garlic, or in yesterday's case, green garlic, until golden. I pull this out and reheat the pan until much hotter, sauteing the favas until the they are cooked and slightly caramelized. In a bowl I mix the olive oil garlic mixture with the hot favas and season lightly with coarse sea salt such as sel gris.

At the beginning of the legume's season they can fool you into thinking they're peas because of their green sweetness. If you would like to eat them "raw" it is best to bring a pot of cold water to boil and drop the unpeeled favas in, pulling them out quickly and setting them in a bowl of ice water. It will be easy to peel the outer skin, releasing the inner tender pea-bean.

The truth is out. I love cucumber seeds. I don't blanch my favas. I cook garlic until golden. I like it crunchy and I even own a garlic press. I use extra virgin olive oil for sauteing. On the smaller favas I don't peel them at all-- testing my American taste buds with bitter teases.

It's ok, after a bite or two I think you'll be able to forgive me.

Comments

[sam]

I grew up on broad beans (as we Brits call favas). I really thought they were one of the most heinous vegetables on earth and even though my parents grew them in our allottment, the result was a sorry state of affairs, born of ignorance I expect. Instead of harvesting them when they were young and sweet, the beans were left until they were fat and plump, yielding more bang for the buck (or the pound sterling). By that time the outer shell had grown into a thick, tough grey coat. No one ever told my mother that she should de-skin them before serving them to us. And I doubt should would have had the time or inclination to do it anyway, even if she'd known the secret. And because they were so old at that point, their once-tender insides had turned to starchy mush. That was the sad fava experience of my youth.
Now I love them, like you if I have time, peeling them is not a chore but a labour of love, although I appreciate it when the task has been done for me. I had them in a pasta dish when I was out for dinner just last night.

[erin]

Hmmm...perhaps I will try this method next season...I have done favas once this year which is really all I can handle with the usual blanching/double peeling process. Unsure about the bitter flavor as I'm kinda a wimp, but perhaps my lazy gene is stronger :)

[Melissa]

I know favas are a pain, but I love them enough to put up with the peeling.

[lori]

I do blanch my favas. Such is my laziness -- they're easier to peel that way, no knife required. Then i find the peeling process to be serene, like shelling peas.

But I do like cucumber seeds and crispy garlic, too. And I own a garlic press. For dishes requesting raw garlic, it is perfect.

[Devon]

I am so excited to try my hand at preparing this interesting bean the Fava. I will head to the nearest farmers market buy a bunch and let you know how the prep and cooking go.

[Tea]

I had favas just last night, so was musing over the labor involved (though I do eat them raw and unshelled early in the season). Last night I was struck at what a large pile you start out with, only to end up with a tiny cup of shelled beans. But I love the brilliant green bean popping and sliding out of it's case. It looks like spring.

[lindy]

I love the ravishing green of favas , and enjoy the peeling/popping process of preparing them. It is lovely, and sort of soothing.
But then, I've never had enough favas. Even if I had unlimited access, I would not be making them to serve 30 people.

[haddock]

I'm firmly in the Fergus Henderson camp. Peeling the fava removes all "fava-ness" about it. We just use them when they are small enough to eat with the skin on. Or as it is said, "habas de abril para mí; las de mayo para el caballo".

[Julie]

The way you cook favas sounds delicious. I get hungry just reading about it.

[Kelley Gibler]

I consider it one of my life's greatest achievements to have been your fava peeler - it is a title I will relish until my hair turns gray or in my case until I stop paying to have it colored.

[Felix]

Last weekend I had my first positive fava peeling experience:

Me and my friend Lettuce laid face down on her lawn plucking fava pods off the plants growing next to us and peeling them. We did an assembly line starting with our two 3 year old daughters opening the big pods, me peeling off the outer shell, and Lettuce taking off the inner peel. We gossiped and peeled and then when we had a full yogurt container, we went upstairs and sauteed them in olive oil, garlic, salt, roasted red peppers and toasted walnuts and tossed that with some pasta. It was an awesome lunch - even if the peppers were out of a jar from Trader Joe's.

[San Francisco Photos]

I love FAVA BEANS!!!!! Coming from the Middle East, I grew up eating Foul at least twice a month. It was too tasty and now I'm craving it.