In Tuscany in the spring fava beans are one of the first things to come up. At Easter time traditionally favas are eaten with Salamis that were made in the early days of January. Here in New England favas come a bit later and they are not here for very long. The heat destroys them. They are often harvested too big and their outer skin becomes tough and bitter. One farmstand in Union Square picks them young and tender enough to eat them the way they do in the Mediterranean with out the foolish blanch and peel that makes thousands of prep cooks in New York groan and want to call in sick. In Italy I would eat fava beans until I couldn't stand it anymore but here I count myself lucky if I make it to the market in time for perfect favas. This year I almost missed them.



1 comment:
I am getting smarter. I now make sure I've eaten a nice big breakfast, lunch or dinner before looking at your blog.
Do slices of orange Kraft cheddar from my local C-Town, melted in the toaster oven on pre-sliced bread, drizzled with olive oil and dusted with sea salt and ground pepper count as a "nice" lunch? You bet it does, when you live in da ghetto!
So I can read your post and see these photos with a degree of equanimity. Hmm! Looks RATHER good.
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