Fava Bean

Elderly fava beans are possibly not on everyone’s shopping list, but in late July, when their sugar has turned to starch and their skins are as thick as writing paper, I have still made a good meal of them. They make a fresh-tasting hummus that always surprises people with its green notes. A silk purse out of a sow’s ear if ever there was one. There is another recipe for this in The Kitchen Diaries, but with dill. Good with bread, roast lamb, even alongside a piece of grilled fish. Like the popular chickpea recipe, somewhat addictive.

There is a Spanish stall at the market. Each Saturday in midsummer I wait patiently at the counter while the jamon is carved. I am unsure which is more beautiful: the long, elegant leg on its steel stand or the fluid, methodical way in which the carver slices the gossamer-thin morsels of meat from the bone. I never take much, its price is breathtaking, but once home I savor every mouthful, as much out of respect for my wallet as for the pig. If I find young fava beans, or the ones in the garden are ready to pick, I marry the two—a simple plate of densely flavored, fat-besplodged ham the color of dried blood and fresh, bright-green beans. There is usually soup on the table too, watercress or spinach or fresh pea, and some scraps of dry, mild-tasting Manchego.

I was wary of the idea of eating the pods until I grew my own beans; young vegetables tempt in a way that full-sized specimens often don’t. The recipe is only worth doing when you can get your hands on unblemished beans without the cotton-wool lining to their pods and no longer than a middle finger. If you can catch them at this point in their lives, then you can eat them whole, like mangetout (snow peas). Serve warm, with thick pieces of bread or as a side dish for roast lamb or cold ham.

Green stuff—asparagus, nettles, peas, spinach, and fava beans—adds life and vigor to the seemingly endless calm of a shallow plate of risotto. My first attempt found me convinced that I didn’t need to skin the beans. In theory it works, but the skins interfere with the harmony of stock, rice, and cheese and add an unwelcome chewiness. I am not sure you should ever need to chew a risotto.

Asparagus is something you feel the need to gorge on, rather than finding the odd bit lurking almost apologetically in a salad or main course. The exceptions are a risotto—for which you will find a recipe in Appetite—and a simple rice pilaf. The gentle flavor of asparagus doesn’t take well to spices, but a little cinnamon or cardamom used in a buttery pilaf offers a mild, though warmly seasoned base for when we have only a small number of spears at our disposal.

This dish pops with the bright flavor of fresh ingredients cooked quickly; but while the final “zap” is quick, preparation of this aromatic salad takes time. Enjoy it: you’ll use several cooking techniques, from searing zucchini to making croutons to preparing favas. For a shortcut, use store-bought croutons or buy shelled favas. Favas need to be peeled twice: First, pull the beans out of the pod by pulling on the stem and unzipping the side; then, after cooking, peel the thin layer of skin from each bean.

Countries all around the world make use of dried beans, and cook them, of necessity, in an oven or on a stove top for a long time, often dressing them in the simplest of ways. The Greeks, who serve them both as a meze (appetizer) and as a main dish, are no exception. For this dish, I’ve recommended fava beans, commonly used in Mediterranean countries, but Greeks often use a large, white bean called gigandas that can sometimes be found in Middle Eastern markets. Note: If you are using favas, be sure to buy blanched, skinless beans, as favas come encased in a tough, brownish shell and are sometimes sold that way. This dish makes a nice meal with a green salad and a crusty country loaf.

Fava beans require some preparation, but to me it’s a labor of love. Shelling and peeling them may seem like a drag, but it’s SOOOOO worth the effort. Mix them with some luxurious mushrooms and sexy spring onions, and you end up with springtime on a plate. I love this combo so much I wish these veggies were in season all year long!

Fava beans are one of those things I wait for all year long. When you talk about seasonal cooking, fava beans immediately come to my mind because when they’re fresh, there’s really nothing like them. I was one of the weird kids who grew up liking lima beans—in fact, I asked for them every birthday dinner (why my mother didn’t just serve them to me on a regular basis I’m not really sure). Fava beans to me are a jacked-up version of lima beans, so you can imagine how much I like them. I feature them in this sauce, but then I tuck some sweet pea and cheese action into the ravioli so you get a little pocket of pea-ness on your plate along with those lovely favas!

Typically prepared at passover by French Moroccan Jews, this is one of the most colorful and delicious fish dishes I have ever tasted. Today most French Jews buy their fava beans, a sign of spring, twice peeled and frozen, from Picard Surgelés. Frozen is easier, but in this dish, fresh tastes even better.

Thanks to emigrants from North Africa, Passover is once again being celebrated in the town of Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, which had a flourishing Jewish community until the fourteenth century. Now Jews reunite for the holidays, and at a recent Passover in one house, several couples got together for a traditional meal. Jocelyne Akoun, the hostess of this event, told me about a springtime soup filled with fresh vegetables and fava beans. Because I always have vegetarians at my own Seder, I have taken to making this refreshing and colorful soup as an alternative to my traditional matzo-ball chicken soup. If making the vegetarian version, sauté the onion in the oil in a large soup pot, then add 8 cups water, the bay leaf, cloves, peppercorns, and 1 teaspoon salt, and cook for about an hour. Then put through a sieve and continue as you would with the beef broth. Fresh fava beans are a sign of spring for Moroccan Jews, because the Jews supposedly ate fava beans, poor man’s meat, when they were slaves in Egypt.

Dried fava bean, a North African staple, taste very different from their fresh counterparts, which are only available for a short time in the spring. After they cook for a few hours with garlic, cumin, and harissa, they become creamy and take on an earthy heat that is especially comforting on colder days. When served with a hunk of baguette, this soup could very well make an entire weeknight meal.

In Egypt this is prepared in the spring, when fava beans are very young and tender. It is served hot as an accompaniment to meat, or cold with yogurt and a salad. Egyptians do not remove the skins of the beans.

A tbikha is a Tunisian dish which mixes fresh vegetables with pulses such as chickpeas and dried fava beans.

Fava beans are the most important vegetable of Egypt. Buy young, tender ones in their season. If they are very young, you can cook them in their pods, which you cut into pieces. Some supermarkets sell young fava beans already shelled in packets, which do not need to be skinned. Older beans have tough skins as well as tough pods. The skinned frozen ones you can buy in Middle Eastern stores are particularly good.

The Copts of Egypt observe a long and arduous fast during Lent—El Soum el Kibir—when they abstain from every kind of animal food, such as meat, eggs, milk, butter, and cheese, and eat only bread and vegetables, chiefly fava beans. Artichoke hearts and fava beans in oil is a favorite Lenten dish, also popular with the Greeks of Egypt. These two vegetables are partnered in every Middle Eastern country, and indeed all around the Mediterranean, but this dish with almonds is uncommon and particularly appealing. You can find frozen artichoke hearts and bottoms from Egypt that are difficult to tell from fresh ones, and frozen skinned fava (or broad) beans in Middle Eastern stores. But if you want to use fresh ones, see the box on the opposite page for preparing artichoke hearts or bottoms. If your fava beans are young and tender, you do not need to skin them.

This Moroccan tagine is easy to make with the frozen artichoke bottoms from Egypt and frozen skinned fava beans (both really good) available in Middle Eastern stores.

You need young fava beans, not tough old ones. Some supermarkets sell them shelled in the season. Good-quality frozen ones are also fine to use. An Iranian grocer near where I live sells frozen skinned ones from Iran which are exceptional. The dish can be served hot or cold. The yogurt can be poured over the rice or served in a separate bowl.