Beans Means Broad

This spring my vegetable patch is producing ample quantities of broad beans, known in some places as fava beans.

These are one of the vegetables many of us grew up grimacing at, their worst tendencies having been encouraged by traditional over-cooking, resulting in those leathery-skinned grey objects we would push around the plate hoping they'd go away.

In fact they're delicious and versatile, and also have an interesting history, being among the oldest cultivated plant species known. One of the reasons for this is that they're very easy to grow (my own sense of achievement has dropped since learning this).

Broad beans also give this blog its name; ful medames is the Middle-eastern version of the bean stew known around the ancient Mediterranean. The term "fava" more common in the USA reflects the Italian name, from the Latin faba.

The ancient Greeks called these κύαμοι (kyamoi), and their sheer ordinariness meant they were referred to or used in many settings, from politics to philosophy.

When lots were drawn in Athens to choose office-bearers, these were broad beans - the Athenian polemarchos or war-leader was the person who drew a particular dried bean from a pot. The festival of Pyanepsia, believed to have been founded by Theseus returning with few provisions after his adventures on Crete, focussed on eating broad bean stew.

One famous refuser of broad beans was the mathematician and philosopher Pythagoras, whose followers maintained a strict prohibition on them. Some have suggested this was because of favism, a rare disease triggered by the beans, but it was more likely because of belief about an affinity between these plants and humans; there were stories likening the beans to human sexual organs, and anxiety that they and we might somehow be mysteriously linked...

Those of us unburdened by those possibilities can emulate the more common Greek and Roman approach, and just enjoy eating them.

Purées made from the fresh or dried beans are delicious with flat breads, or as accompaniments to other foods such as roast meats. I do at least two other things with them my grandparents don't seem to have been aware of; the small fresh pods, when about the size of your finger, can be steamed or sautéed and eaten whole; and the larger beans can first be podded and then peeled after blanching, revealing a brilliant green as visually appealling as it is delicious.

Linguine con Sarde

Sicilian cooking makes resourceful and delightful use of fennel, sardines, and pine nuts - not always at once, but certainly happily in this pasta dish that has almost infinite variations. Don't be afraid of the canned sardines here - there are better and worse varieties, but almost all will work.

Ingredients (for 2-3 persons)
1 fennel bulb, thinly sliced (reserve feathery leaves, if any)
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 can tomatoes or equivalent passata
1 lemon
1/2 cup breadcrumbs
1 can sardines
250g linguine (or other long pasta, percatelli or similar)
olive oil
1/3 cup pine nuts (optional)

Method
Heat 1/3 cup of olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pan and add fennel slices. Toss occasionally, and cook until there is some significant browning - this caramelization is important to the flavour of the dish.

Add crushed garlic and toss again. After two minutes, add tomatoes. Cook these gently for 10 minutes or so to reduce the liquid a little and allow flavours to combine.

Meanwhile zest lemon, and combine zest with breadcrumbs and fennel tops (or some chopped parsley). Juice lemon and add 1-2 Tbps to the sauce.

Add linguine to a pot of boiling salted water. Add sardines to the sauce; they will break up somewhat whatever you do, so no need to do anything active to them.

When pasta is nearly cooked, drain, reserving a cup of cooking water, and carefully combine pasta and sauce, returning to medium heat. Add a little water and cover for 2-3 minutes. Check for al dente status; when ready, divide between bowls and add lemon-crumb mixture.

Pizzoccheri con zucca

Pizzocheri are a type of short ribbon pasta peculiar to the area of Valtellina, near Lake Como in Italy's north. These are distinctive for having a high proportion of buckwheat or grano saraceno, which is favoured in that area and also used for polenta taragna, made from buckwheat flour instead of maize.

The classic pizzoccheri alla Valtellina recipe involves the unprepossessing combination of pasta, savoy cabbage and potatoes, to which local Casera cheese, or Fontina, is added. Here I have shifted somewhat and made use of seasonal pumpkin/squash which makes good use of the nutty pasta and still offers a nod to the original conception of a simple, warming dish.

Ingredients (for 4-5)
500g pizzoccheri
1 large leek, sliced and rinsed if necessary.
2 cloves garlic
1 small butternut pumpkin/squash, in 1"/2cm cubes
12 fresh sage leaves whole, plus 6 more chopped
olive oil
4 Tbps butter or margarine
1/2 tsp freshly ground nutmeg
grated parmesan or pecorino romano

Method
Heat 2 Tbps olive oil in a heavy skillet and add leek; when softened add chopped garlic. After 2 minutes add the cubed squash/pumpkin and 6 sage leaves chopped, and cook, stirring occasionally, until pumpkin is browning; then add 1/2 cup of water and cook over slow heat until softened (or, you are using the oven for anything else, toss oil, pumpkin/squash cubes, leeks, garlic and chopped sage in an oven-proof dish and bake 20-30 minutes until browned and softened).

Cook pizzoccheri in plenty of boiling water for 8 minutes or so (check packet directions if using pre-made - this next stage should take place while they still have 2-3 minutes cooking left). Take 2/3 cup of cooking water from the pizzocheri and add to the pumpkin/leek mixture, drain the pasta and add to the same pan, stir carefully, add nutmeg and simmer for a few more minutes.

In another pan melt butter and add sage leaves when froth has subsided. When these are getting crisp and the pasta has had its last 2-3 minutes, divide the pasta between bowls, add some crisp sage and butter to each, top with grated cheese and serve.