Yum

People, fresh fava beans are a pain in the arse, but they are so worth the effort. 

You must first peel away their thick, puffer-jacket, fleece-lined shells to access the beans within. Then, you must blanch those and finally, slip the inner bean from the outer skin. That last step is particularly irritating because by that point in the game you're like, "Bean, come on. I want to eat you! And not even with a nice Chianti!"

Persevere! Because when you finish, you are left with a bowl of spectacular green, just waiting to be incorporated into something wonderful.

 prepared fava beans

prepared fava beans

I myself most often make my fava-and-mint puree because slathering it across slices of hot, olive oily bread leaves me deeply happy.

 mint

mint

I did just that earlier this week and each day since. Today too, and I felt happy every time. It's awfully difficult to feel blue when faced with this color green. You know?

Guess what else this time of year offers? Watermelon AND real arugula. Real arugula, as opposed to clamshell arugula, is not just a lettuce. No. Real arugula has a fiery kick of which I never tire. Oliver loves it too, though it always leaves him fanning his tongue. I will never tire of getting him "somefing to dwink" for relief. It's adorable and I groove on his liking spicy lettuce.

With said arugula and watermelon (and also that mint!), you can make one of the best salads in the world. Starting now, I intend to eat at least one serving of this every day, not least because Ol and I discovered a remarkable feta cheese at the farmers market last weekend.

Promise me you'll get some good olive oil and some aged balsamic vinegar (or make your own by reducing some balsamic with a bit of sugar). Put two handfuls of real arugula on a plate and top it with chunks of watermelon. Crumble feta all over and drizzle with oil and the old vinegar. Sprinkle with salt and freshly ground pepper. Go!