Old-school Em-i-lis

The past couple days have found me yearning for leisurely hours in the kitchen. It's been a long while, too long, since I've felt I had any significant amount of time to relax in there and play around. I miss it, and have noticed that when rushed, dinners become more chore than pleasure, and I cut culinary corners in ways I don't like. 

Our spring has, so far, been an awfully wet and chilly one. There have been glorious days of warmth -heat even!- and sunshine, promises of lemonade stands and relaxed evenings on the deck with a cold glass of wine. But by and large, those times have been elusive, and most days are still "pants and long-sleeve T's, boys" rather than shorts and sunblock ones.

That said, it's spring somewhere, and the produce of the glorious season is starting to roll our way. It's the right time for rhubarb, and those beautiful pink and green stalks are showing themselves at our local farmers markets as are greenhouse tomatoes and herbs and the earliest strawberries. Asparagus is in its prime.

At the grocery, fava bean pods glow green and swollen, and plums, peaches and apricots are finally being trucked in from places north of Chile!

Perhaps I should thank the mostly-gloomy days of the recent past, for they have offered me quick moments in which to steal to the markets and have then shooed me back inside when the rains return. During the latter periods, the beautiful beans and fruits and tomatoes and greens beckon to me, and I have gone to them.

Shelling beans is an always-pleasant task, meditative, productive and grounding. Favas and borlottis are my favorites to hull, because my reward is a bowl of vibrant green or cranberry-speckled beans that only nature could conjure. Favas beg to be smashed with mint and pecorino and olive oil and a squeeze of lemon, slathered atop grilled bread slicked with more oil. Nothing this beautiful can be anything but healthful or a pleasure to eat.

fava bean and mint crostini

The smell of tomatoes alone is thrilling, but then the juicy pop of each orb's taut skin is the happiest salvo. The crisp crack of each asparagus spear's end breaking off at just the point that woody and fibrous gives way to silky and tender. 

the freshest pizza 

All of these ingredients make such delicious dishes but without much effort; that is the gift of real, fresh, seasonal food.

velvet apricots

Today, I made my black velvet apricot and Cognac jam. It is as delectable as it is pretty; looks rather like a jewel, really. I love recipes that freeze an ephemeral ingredient in time for later enjoyment. It's why I make mango butter even though straight-up mango, peeled and sliced, is our favorite way to enjoy them, especially the Ataulfo, or champagne, variety that comes out in late April each year.

I also made some old favorites this week including my farro with golden beets, candied pecans, feta and a sage-chive oil and oven-roasted rosemary salmon, and, perhaps most thrillingly, treated myself to this Meyer lemon tree on Mother's Day. I'm positively over the moon about it, and will feel equal parts Cher (from Clueless; remember when she reaches out of her father's office window to pick a fresh lemon for his tea?) and Martha Stewart when I pluck a fresh lemon from its boughs.

farro with golden beets, candied pecans, feta and chive-sage oil

Now, if only the sun will come out a little bit more and help us all dry and grow and ready ourselves for the next marathon of cooking and growing and rooting, it'd be swell!

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

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

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!

Favas (without the 'nice Chianti'), head's up, etc

Y'all, fava beans are coming, and that makes me really happy. I like how schlumpy most of them look (some are diamonds in the rough, but they're rare) and how furry are their insides that snugly hold the actual beans. I love their hue which is the perfect blend of pea and mint greens. It's the green I'd have put alongside a perfect pale pink if I'd had a daughter and decorated her room. I love how their humble exteriors reveal a fairly high maintenance yet gloriously beany interior. If you'll peel, blanch and peel again, you will be rewarded with an even brighter pea-mint green treasure which you can then enjoy in many a way. Myself, I can't imagine a more delicious use than as a spread for crostini. Sure, sure, sure, as an element in most anything, favas are nice. But in crostini atop which they can star? C'est magnifique!

As I've opined before, 2Amy's, a Neapolitan joint in NW D.C., makes a preposterously wonderful Fava Bean Crostini appetizer. This gem shows itself on the menu entirely too infrequently, so naturally, I had to craft my own version. Mine is close but not the actual Cuban, if you get my drift. Olive oil, mint, pecorino, salt....toasted bread, more olive oil, probably more salt, some lemon. Beautiful. Alluring. So glad they're here.

Now, it's possible I was too relieved that Milo and Otis found each other again to have even thought to mention this yesterday, but I need to give you a head's up about this movie in case you plan to watch it with kids or recommend someone else do so. Both Joyce and Sondra (Milo's cat wife and Otis' pug wife, respectively; Joyce? Sondra?) deliver babies near the end of the film. Long story short, both my kids sat up straight and yelled, "Did THAT JUST COME OUT OF HER BUTT?" People, this is A) Life Cycle 101 and B) if you need it, an easy segue into the "how babies arrive" conversation. All day I've felt I really must mention this element of the movie. So, forewarned is forearmed. Cheers!

I'm getting pretty excited about heading to Richmond on Thursday afternoon. Tomorrow is going to be hella long, and I'm rather dreading it already. Let's hear it for adult activity, like going to a conference, or, better, symposium. Symposium sounds even more adult!