Peas are arguably the most boring vegetable on the planet. Very few people have any
feelings whatsoever about peas. Close your eyes and visualize a big bowl of peas, steaming
hot, with a large pat of butter melting across the top. What feelings does that evoke in
you? In all probability, none at all - peas are an emotionally void food. Think about when
you were a kid and your mother served you peas with dinner - was there any reaction at
all? Again, probably not - not even the dread and panic that okra, Brussels sprouts or
canned beets generated. Peas are always just sort of there. If a brownie is like a warm hug
and a chili pepper is like an angry shout, peas are the equivalent of a shrug.
This hasn't always been the case however.
Peas are one of the oldest crops known to man. Neolithic people in the Middle East were
growing them over 7,000 years ago. Vast chunks of the population of the Roman Empire
survived almost entirely on them. When you see pictures from tapestries of the Middle
Ages depicting huge feasts complete with tray after tray of bread, fruit and roasted
peacocks, remember that this was how the nobility ate - and only on special occasions at
that. The average people - the serfs and slaves - lived for the most part on (surprise!) peas.
Keep in mind however, that these were not Del Monte or Green Giant peas that we're
talking about. Until comparatively recently, peas were not grown to be eaten fresh and
green. They were universally dry, starchy legumes - more like the dried peas that we use to
make split-pea soup today. They were ground up and baked into bread or cooked into a
sort of a porridge with grain and whatever meat could be spared. Everyone ate them, but
nobody liked them.
That changed in the 17th century, when enterprising French farmers bred what we would
think of as modern green peas from an existing strain of grey, peasant field peas. It's
unlikely that the common people ate many of the new peas, but the Aristocracy went nuts
for them, particularly the women at Court, who would do almost anything to get them -
even to the point of compromising their virtue. The French social commentator Madame
de Maintenon wrote in the late 1600's, "The impatience to eat them (peas), the pleasure of
having eaten them, and the joy of eating them again are the three points of private
gossip...it is both a fashion and a madness."
Even though the pods of these early green peas weren't edible, pea fanatics would always
serve them in their shells. The diners would dredge the pods through some sort of sauce,
slip them into their mouths whole, then pop the individual peas out by pulling the pod out
between their teeth or by opening the pod and pulling the peas loose with their tongues.
For centuries thereafter, peas were considered a delicacy - one of the great treats of the
growing year. You have to ask yourself why. Why in the world would people get so
worked up about PEAS? This was probably due in great part to the fact that peas are one
of the very first vegetables to come up in the garden each Spring. After a long winter of
cornbread and salt pork, our scurvy-ridden forbears must have looked on them as
something close to ambrosia. Then too, their peas probably tasted better than ours.
The problem isn't with the peas themselves - don't blame them. Properly harvested and
prepared, there are few things as delicious as fresh peas. The fault lies with our modern
food-distribution system. Your grandmother probably got her peas directly from her own
garden - they didn't have to travel for days at a time to get to market the way ours do
today. Peas are seeds - nutrition-bearing energy pellets designed to feed embryonic plants
while they sprout and work their way up to the sunshine. While they are still on the pea
plant, they are full of sugar, but the instant they are picked, they start converting the sugar
to efficiently stored starch - the upshot of which is, the sooner you eat them, the sweeter
they are. If you wait too long, they get starchy and mushy. Even the freshest of "fresh"
peas at your grocery store are probably several days old.
When we talk about peas, we are usually talking about one of two types - "petit pois", or
little green peas, or podded peas like snow peas. It might be useful to think of the two
types as characters from Oliver Twist. The petit pois are very much like Oliver himself -
sweet and delicate and must be treated with great gentleness. They should be heated only
very quickly and served more or less plain. The flavor is extremely delicate and easily
overwhelmed. Coddle them. At most, add a couple of teaspoons of chopped, fresh mint
into their cooking water/oil/butter.
Snow peas, on the other hand, are much more like the Artful Dodger - they can stand up
for themselves. They have a much stronger "pea" flavor and a great, robust crunchiness.
They stand up well to stronger ingredients - ginger, garlic, duck, ham or sesame oil. They
are at their best stirfried and served still crunchy.
Pea experts - and yes, there really ARE pea experts - advise that unless you grow peas
yourself or have access to a really good farmer's market, your best bet is to buy frozen
"baby" peas (the bigger ones tend to be mushy). "The trick," says James Peterson, author
of the reference book, Vegetables, "is NOT to follow the directions on the
package, which tell you to boil the peas. Frozen peas already have been cooked before
freezing so you're better off simply thawing the peas and heating them in something
flavorful such as butter, olive oil or a little broth."
All that said, the fact remains that many of us could really use a few more elaborate recipes
for peas, especially at this time of year. The traditional Yankee pea dish is a simple,
delicious and cholesterol-laden one, rich enough to serve as a simple main course. Fresh
peas and new potatoes are cooked in cream and served with salt and freshly-ground black
pepper.
Snow Pea Stir-fry with Cashew Nuts:
1/2 lb. snow peas
1/4 inch-thick slice fresh ginger
1 tbsp. peanut oil
2 heaping tbsp. roasted cashew nuts or peanuts
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tbsp. sesame seeds
2 oz. smoked ham, cut into strips
1/2 tsp. Asian dark sesame oil
2 tsp. soy sauce
1 tbsp. water
freshly ground black pepper
Break the stem end off the snow peas and peel off the strings. Heat the ginger in the
peanut oil in a wok or skillet over high heat. Let the ginger sizzle in the oil for about a
minute - if the oil starts to smoke, turn down the heat - and add the nuts, garlic, sesame
seeds and ham. When the garlic barely begins to turn golden, after 1 or 2 minutes, stir in
the snow peas, sesame oil, soy sauce and water. Stir over high heat for 3 minutes. Season
with pepper, fish out the ginger slice and serve the snow peas immediately.
- James Peterson, Vegetables, William Morrow and Company, 1998
Summer Squash and Green Peas with Poppy Seeds (Toray Hari Matar Charchari):
1 1/2 lbs. seedless young summer squash, cut into 3/4 inch cubes
1 1/2 cups fresh peas or one 10-oz. package of frozen peas, defrosted
1 medium-sized tomato, peeled, seeded and shopped
1 1/2 tbsp. each fresh coriander (cilantro) and mint
1-inch piece of cinnamon stick
1-2 hot green chilies
3 whole green cardamom pods
1 tbsp. unsalted butter
2/3 cup light cream, warmed
1 tsp. salt
2 tbsp. toasted poppy seeds
1. Combine all of the ingredients (keep the defrosted frozen peas aside if you use them)
except the poppy seeds, in a heavy-bottomed 3-quart nonstick pan. Bring to a boil,
stirring, then cover and reduce the heat to low, giving it a stir with a wooden spatula to
prevent the cream from catching on the bottom of the pan. When the dish is cooked, the
squash should be butter soft and all of the cream absorbed, with the vegetables sizzling in
seasoned butter. (Add the defrosted peas a few minutes before serving.)
2. Remove the cinnamon, chilies and cardamom pods before serving. Garnish with
toasted poppy seeds.
Yamuna Devi - The Art of Indian Vegetarian Cooking, Bala Books, 1987
Fladd's Pea Omelet:
4 eggs, well beaten
1 tbsp. butter
2 shallots or 4 green onions, minced
3 strips smoked bacon, cooked and diced
2 tbsp maple syrup
1/2 cup leftover peas
3 tbsp. sour cream
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 or 3 sprigs fresh mint, garnish
1) In a small cast-iron skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the shallots or
onions; cook till translucent. Add bacon, and maple syrup; cook for 2 minutes. Add peas.
Toss to coat, then immediately remove from heat.
2) In a non-stick omelet pan, prepare eggs with salt and pepper. Remove from heat while
omelet is still moist.
3) Fill omelet with pea filling and fold onto plate. Top with sour cream and mint. Serve
with pumpernickel or rye toast.
