I know it’s a little late, but dang it, I’ve got to get an “ode to peas” in before the peas come out of the garden. How did spring go by so fast?
My life could really be defined by my love-hate (actually more like hate-love) relationship with peas—with vegetables really, but peas were sort of a defining struggle in my life. You see, I used to hate vegetables. The only veggies I allowed on my plate throughout the first two and a half decades of my life were raw carrots, lettuce and potatoes, more or less. The rest of them—including asparagus, beets, tomatoes, eggplant and, yes, peas—I wouldn’t have anything to do with.
Peas were an especially sore subject because my mom used to take it upon herself to sneak peas into any salad I made when I was still living at home—egg salad, tuna salad, pasta salad, you name it. I’d whip it up, tuck it in the fridge, and when I went to eat it the next day it would have magically grown little green orbs. When I confronted my mom, she would defend herself with a heart-felt, “oh come on, they’re good.” Which got her nowhere with me in the vegetable crusade.
The defining moment for peas and me didn’t come until one spring when Christopher and I went to San Francisco’s Ferry Plaza Farmers’ Market—back when it used to be just a local farmers’ market in a parking lot—and a farmer held out a pristine green pod. “Care to try a pea?” he asked. I grimaced. “Come on,” he nudged a pea out of its casing with his thumb. “They’re really good.”
I don’t know why I did it—I’d heard that before, after all—but I took the pea and popped it into my mouth. It was earthy and fresh and green, blossoming into sweet at the end with a little zing that was almost savory, almost bacony, on the finish. Let’s just say that I bought a pound that day and have never looked back. Beets, asparagus and carrots followed soon after, and now, heck, I just pickled kohlrabi and turnips the other day. So it’s not so far-fetched to say that a pea—that pea—changed the course of my life.
{ Farfalle With Peas and Salmon }
Here’s an update on the classic pea and prosciutto pairing, swapping in salmon instead. Farfalle’s gentle ridges are a perfect foil for scooping up the savory peas.
3/4 pound wild Alaskan salmon fillets
3/4 teaspoon Kosher salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon black pepper, divided
1–1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 pound dried farfalle (bow-tie pasta)
1 minced shallot
1/2 cup vegetable broth
3 cups fresh peas
1/2 cup reduced-fat sour cream
1/4 cup sliced green onions
1 tablespoon chopped fresh mint
2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill
1. Season salmon with 1/4 teaspoon salt and pepper. Brush fish with 1 teaspoon olive oil. Heat a pan over medium-high heat. Sear fish, flesh side down, for 8 minutes or until nearly cooked through. Remove to a plate, skin side down, and cover with foil.
2. Cook pasta and drain. Return to pot and keep warm.
3. Heat remaining oil in pan and sauté shallot 5 minutes. Add broth and peas, cover, and cook 2 minutes. Stir in sour cream, onions, mint, and dill and lower heat to simmer. Add remaining salt and pepper.
4. Add sauce to pasta and toss. Remove skin and flake salmon into large chunks. Add to pasta and toss gently.
Serves 4
This is also my entry in this week’s Presto Pasta Nights, hosted by Ruth at Once Upon a Feast. Enjoy!
A Wine to Try: With this, I like a nice, not-too-oaky, not-too-buttery Chardonnay—and I’m not a Chardonnay person most of the time. But there’s something about the creaminess and freshness of this dish that works well with the right bottle (in the primer, I’d go with Lean and Clean or Complex). Give it a shot!
9 Comments
I too learned to love vegetables later in life. The dish sounds awesome. Thanks for sharing with Presto Pasta Nights.
We won’t have veggies from a garden for a while up here in the mountains . . I’ve always loved peas and frankly all veggies. More than fruit. Living solo in my first apt I would go home at lunch and cook up a pan of fresh mushrooms and eat the whole thing. I really love snow peas in a salad. Now you are making me hungry . . . . . steph
I didn’t grow to love vegetables until I was well into my 20’s. I’m sad now when I think about how many wonderful treats I left behind on my parents table as I knew I would “hate” them before even giving them a try.
Lia, too funny! I had serious issues with peas growing up, too..I used to stuff them down the air vents in the floor so my mom would think I had eaten them.
I still can’t stomach the frozen kind - only fresh! This recipe looks wonderful - thanks for sharing!
Your peas are about done!? Amazing the difference in regions around the country. I have pea plants, but they’re only about a foot tall so far- I don’t expect peas for several more weeks yet.
Your recipe sounds like the perfect taste of spring- and I love the idea of the salmon instead of the prosciutto.
Ruth . . . So glad I made it under the wire this time! Tonight I’m going for asparagus.
Steph . . . Yea, I got into snow peas in salads this spring too. Yum.
Elisabeth . . . Wow, you really went all out with the pea-avoidance strategies! That cracks me up.
Erika . . . That is wild. I finally ripped out our peas this weekend and put tomatoes in and they’re about as tall as your peas!
I think the reason some of us didn’t like veggies as kids is our moms used those awful canned peas or green beans. Everything is so mushy. I will admit to not liking onions as a kid - love them now. Did anyone else pull the onion out of onion rings and just eat the breading?
steph
I have a theory about why people hate peas: because of well-intentioned moms who served mushy canned peas to them when they were kids. I had a similar Eureka! moment at a farmers’ market a few years ago. I think if kids ate only fresh peas, then they’d have nothing to hate about them. (Am I being too idealistic here?)
Steph and Susan . . . You guys should go on a “no mushy veggie” campaign together ;-). Seriously, though, I totally agree with you Susan. And no, I don’t think you’re being too idealistic, I think you’re being realistic. Ever since I’ve been feeding Noe, I’ve wondered how we could ever expect kids to fall in love with vegetables we ourselves would find unpalatable. But given veggies in their freshest state, who can resist them? Certainly not my daughter, who, as soon as she gets out to the garden starts repeating, “peese, peese, peese,” until we pull a sugar snap off the vine and let her munch on it. Seeing and hearing her crunch on those while wandering around smelling the flowers just makes my heart glow.