God bless the Romans who invented this dish and the Koreans who made it possible.
Perhaps an explanation is in order. I’ve been reading Italian cookbooks lately and have been finding—not surprisingly—many new recipes to try. The difficulty has been mostly one of sitting down and doing it. Which meant sitting down and deciding what to do first, second, and so forth. And that has proved terribly difficult, since I want to try everything at once. Sound familiar?
Meanwhile, back at the ranch: as a result of all that the Lovely Dining Companion and I had been reading, we decided to visit H Mart, the 19,000 square-foot Korean market in Niles this past weekend. Among the many treasures we found in their incredible fresh produce section was fresh fava beans, in the pod. Favas are hard fresh to find at the best of times and we’re several months, to put it mildly, beyond the end of the season. So I was quite surprised to see them at all. They weren’t in prime condition, but picking through them for a while, I was able to bring home a nice quantity.
Then came the dilemma, how to cook them. They are not only a staple of Italian cooking but of Middle Eastern cuisine as well, particularly Egyptian. And I’d been on a Middle Eastern run of late. Eventually, after consulting a wide variety of cookbooks, I finally settled on a recipe that sounded delicious, a Roman dish
fave fresche al guanciale, (fresh favas with guanciale. Now, guanciale is not an easy item to find, and even the cookbook recommended substituting pancetta. So following Antonius’ advice, I took a trip today to
J.P. Graziano Grocery Co., Inc. on Randolph. Actually, I began the day with a quick visit to D’Amato’s and
Bari Foods, conveniently located next to each other on Grand Avenue. Truth to tell, I was not excited by Bari but they did have precisely what I was looking for and I walked out with a hefty bag filled with prosciutto di Parma, pancetta, pistachio mortadella, and even a famous Bari sub. At 10:30, 10:45, the ravenous were already lining up for these famous subs, so I got there none too soon. (BTW, I got an Italian sub with mild giardiniera and must confess myself puzzled by all the encomia. It frankly didn’t do much for me. But I digress.)
Dropped by J.P. Graziano and dropped Antonius’ name, always a safe and easy way in. The man’s face lit up. I was speaking with Jim, the grandson of the founder, who told me all about his grandfather establishing the business in 1937. We talked a little about the Depression, and how his grandfather must have been quite a businessman for the establishing to thrive. Then, on Antonius’ recommendation I picked up some cheeses,
canestrato*, a sheep’s milk cheese from Sicily (sharp, pungent, and packed with flavor) and a hefty chunk of Parmegiano Reggiano. Just an Antonius had advised, with its location, wholesale trade, etc., they charged a mere $12.99/pound for the latter. Excellent, top quality melt-in-your-mouth stuff. But again, I digress.
The purpose of the expedition was to obtain pancetta for the Roman fava bean dish I’d decided to make. And every dish begins with its ingredients, simple fare here.
A few hours later. Have you ever shelled fava beans? I mean, after you remove them from their large cottony pods (which average, incidentally, a good six or eight inches long), you have to blanch them to remove the actual bean from their thick skins. This is major-league, time-consuming work. Bean by bean by bean. But when you’re done, you have these bright green, luscious looking legumes.
Herewith, a partially liberated bean:

leading to:
Brown the pancetta, a finely diced onion. Add your beans and a cup of water. Toss in a sprig of mint; you won’t taste it in the final dish, but you’ll miss its contribution if you omit it.

Let the whole thing simmer down until the liquid is mostly gone.
Remove the cooked mint (perhaps add some fresh mint as a garnish) and serve. (In retrospect, and as the photo illustrates, I think I let my fondness for pancetta get the better of me. Given the recipes proportions, there should be somewhat less pancetta than appears in my preparation. As good as it was, I think less would have been better.)
I am not a big fan of large beans. Can’t stand limas. I generally find larger beans too mealy or starchy or just plain bland. Well, regardless of your position on beans, if you ever find fresh favas, do your self a favor. The recipe I used came from Julia Della Croce’s
Roma: Authentic Recipes From in and around the Eternal City. I imagine the generic recipe isn’t hard to find. (If you wish details, PM me.) For thirty minutes work (not counting the time to de-pod and then shell the damn beans), you’ll be rewarded with a succulent, deeply flavorful dish that is filling enough for a meal on its own. Some good crusty bread and a full red wine and you’re set. But first, let us give thanks as I said: to the Romans for the recipe and the Koreans for the beans.
*
Edited to correct spelling.
Last edited by
Gypsy Boy on November 1st, 2006, 7:20 am, edited 1 time in total.
Gypsy Boy
"I am not a glutton--I am an explorer of food." (Erma Bombeck)