By now, most people know there’s so much more at local farmers markets than seasonal produce. Among my mainstay purchases, as many readers of this blog have no doubt noticed, are fresh pasta and wild mushrooms, maybe with a few delicious pastries thrown in.
Farmers’ produce is a boon, but one that I enjoy less and less often as the market season stretches on. That’s because I have my own garden produce to use up. When our eggplant and tomatoes are in full swing, I go for weeks without a trip to the market.
But every now and then, I uncover a truly unique ingredient that I don’t grow or have a hope of finding in local grocery stores. The latest find was fresh fava beans from the Bigham Farms stand at last week’s Medford meeting of the Rogue Valley Growers and Crafters Market.
I was intrigued because I’ve seen many recipes calling for fava beans that I’ve never tried. I purchased a large bag for $2 and planned to toss them with (you guessed it) fresh rotelli pasta, fresh porcini mushrooms and a garlic-scape pesto.
I knew that fava beans required some time to prep for cooking, but I’ve always enjoyed shelling peas and had about an hour on my hands before my husband was due home for dinner. If you’ve never worked with fava beans, the pods are about the largest I’ve ever seen, and when split open have a strangely wooly interior that, when crushed, turns slimy somewhat like okra. Shelling the entire bag took probably 20 minutes, and I ended up with a bowl of beans about one-quarter of the weight of all those pods.
The prep didn’t stop there. Per the instructions on a recipe, I covered the beans with boiling water and let them soak until they were cool enough to handle. The point of this step is removing what is often termed a “membrane,” but seemed more like a hull to me because of its thickness.
I had worried I wouldn’t be able to slip these off easily, but the beans have an indentation where they attach to the pod. Pressing my thumbnail into that slot did the trick. Although it took about 10 more minutes to remove all the tough membranes, the beans had parcooked inside and were ready to eat.
A quick taste revealed a flavor not unlike lima beans, just less starchy. Slightly bitter and utterly vegetative, fresh favas are the essence of beaniness. I wasn’t impressed enough to eat them out of hand, but they added a nice counterpoint to pungent garlic and savory turkey sausage.
Chances are, I may not be preparing them for optimum flavor. For all that work, however, I think I’ll give fresh favas a pass. If there are any fava fans out there, feel free to share your tips.
