Pea Pod Soup

 

My kids all love eating fresh raw peas straight out of the pods. When I was young and stupid, that is, a few years ago, I would get annoyed that they would eat half the peas or more that I had podded ready for dinner. Then I realized what an idiot I was. Now we eat green beans at dinner, and peas are an afternoon snack.

At least once a week at this time of year, I present them with a bagful at 4 o’clock. The deal is, if they pod them, they can eat them. It seems like a fair deal; at least, they seem think so as they are happily occupied for half an hour or more as they demolish a pound or two of peas.

They pod them by grabbing the top stem, where the pod was attached to the plant, and tearing the string completely off. When all is done, I am left with a pile of strings, a pile of pods, and three happy girls who have had their green vegetables for the afternoon.

Thanks to a lovely idea in Chocolate & Zucchini, I stash the pods in the freezer until I have a few bags full, then turn them into soup. One warning: although the soup is very frugal, being made of pea pods, homemade stock and all, it does take a bit of washing up: you need to use a food processor, bamix or blender, and a food mill, if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life pushing pea pods through a strainer.

Pea Pod Soup - about 1 kg pea pods, strings removed - 1 red onion, diced small - a small handful of fennel tops or other herb (basil, parsley, chives) - ¼ cup dry white wine - 1 ½ litres stock (I use homemade chicken stock, but an all purpose veggie stock would also be good) - olive oil - salt - tarragon vinegar (optional) Warm some olive oil in a soup pot. Add the onion and a good pinch of salt, and cook until the onion is soft. Add the pea pods, and allow them to become glossy, then raise the heat, add the fennel tops and the wine, and cook until the wine has reduced to a syrupy consistency. Add the stock, bring it to a simmer, and cook for half an hour. Allow to cool a little. In three or so batches, whizz the soup in a food processor or blender (or use a bamix) until it looks like very wet grass clippings. Transfer the clippings I mean soup to a mouli (food mill) placed over a smaller pot, and grind away. (If you have a masochistic urge or a great deal of time on your hands, press them through a strainer instead.) When it has all been processed and run through the mouli, dump the shredded pods in the compost and give the soup a good stir. Place it on the stove to warm up again, and serve. My kids are especially fond of this soup when it has been enlivened by a dash of tarragon vinegar. Tarragon vinegar is made by shoving fresh clean dry tarragon into a bottle of white wine vinegar, and forgetting about it for a couple of weeks. It is perfect splashed over asparagus, dripped onto a green salad, or drizzled into this soup. (Local: peas, onion, fennel tops (gleaned), white wine, olive oil. Various sources: chicken stock. Not so local: tarragon vinegar, salt.)

Tuna Hash and a Poached Egg

There are some things I just cannot do. Touch my toes, speak French, or make potato pancakes. When I make potato pancakes, they rarely form a nice cake at the bottom; or if they do, they collapse when I come to turn them. But in my defeat I've decided that I'm good at hash: chunky, messy, and crisply golden.

Another thing I'm not so good at is gardening. I like the idea; I keep giving it a shot. But then we get sick or busy, the weeds take over, and I lose hope. A few months ago I gave up on the potatoes, sure that they wouldn't amount to anything much. But this week, after I pulled out the broad beans – which this person of little faith planted on top of the tatie trench – I began digging out some intrusive couch grass. As I dug, to my surprise I discovered taties the size of my fist – sixty of them!

Unfortunately, because I didn't expect them, by the time they were discovered I had impaled a dozen of them on the gardening fork, further proof I'm a rotten gardener.

With a sack of stabbed potatoes, a carton of backyard eggs, and three hungry kids, I found myself dreaming of hash. In an American diner, they're usually cooked with beef or pork and topped with a fried egg. However, we don't cook red meat and I don't like fried eggs.

But in a funny little second hand cookbook, I found another idea. The book is the hilarious Take a Tin of Tuna (yes, it's slightly nauseating if you look at it too long), and includes a recipe for tuna hash. While it wasn't exactly what I was looking for, by the time I had fiddled with the proportions and changed a few ingredients, I ended up with something truly satisfying. The tuna met my need for something unctuous and meaty mixed in with the potatoes, and was even enough to get my four year old, who mostly hates taties, to eat a plateful.

Of course, if you're concerned about the overfishing of tuna and your four year old will eat another form of protein, you might make it not with tuna but with a few thick slices of bacon, chopped and fried with the onions. Or leave out the meat and stud it with salty feta or grilled haloumi just before serving.

Tuna Hash and a Poached Egg - 1 kg potatoes - several tablespoons olive oil - 2 or 3 shallots, or 1 onion, sliced finely into half moons - 3 spring onions, finely sliced including some green bits - 1 cup peas - 425g can tuna (or 2 thick rashers of bacon or a slab of haloumi or perhaps some feta...) - 3 or so stalks flat-leaf parsley (optional), chopped - 6 eggs, or however many your household needs Peel the potatoes (or not) and cut into rough 1cm dice. Bring a pot of water to the boil. Blanch the peas for a minute, then scoop them out with a slotted spoon. Set aside. Add the potatoes to the boiling water, and boil for 5 to 7 minutes, or until barely cooked. Drain and set aside. Warm several tablespoons of olive oil in a large heavy skillet. Add the shallots (or the onion), and cook over medium heat until tender. Add the spring onions, potatoes, peas and tuna and stir to combine. Cook for 5 to 10 minutes, pressing down with a spatula from time to time to encourage golden bits. While it's cooking, boil the kettle, pour the water into another wide skillet and bring to a very gentle simmer, that is, water in which a tiny bubble rises once or twice a second. Run the spatula around the potatoes, turning them over and roughing them up. Cook for another 5 to 10 minutes, or until you have lots of golden crispy bits or you're just too hungry to wait any longer. Meanwhile, poach your eggs* in the other skillet. To do this, break an egg into a shallow coffee cup. Gently slide it into the barely simmering water, and repeat until you have a ring of eggs. Poach for four to six minutes, or until the white is set but the yolk is deliciously runny. The time will depend on the size of your eggs. Place a good helping of hash on each plate, and top with poached eggs. Sprinkle with chopped parsley and pass the pepper. *Note: This method of poaching works perfectly with very fresh backyard eggs; pretty well with fresh organic eggs; but it's somewhat messy with stale supermarket eggs. You could always soft boil them instead. Inspired by a recipe in Joie Warner's Take a Tin of Tuna. (Backyard: potatoes, eggs, parsley. Local: olive oil, shallots, spring onions, peas, and possibly bacon. Not very eco or local: tuna.)

Pea and Potato Frittata

Another weeknight, and I'm sick of the usual. So I looked up Nigella and found something do-able: a pea and potato frittata. But her recipe doesn't have enough veggies for me, so I doubled this and halved that, added some herbs, and called it dinner.

Nigella's recipe calls for the onion to be diced before it's sautéed. I don't like little squares of onion in my eggs, but for some reason I don't mind shreds. In any case, I think onions taste sweeter when they're cut into half moons, so I sliced my onion instead.

I also added marjoram to give it a lovely velvety sweetness. If you don't grow marjoram, a little thyme would go nicely with the potatoes and onions; or you could always use that infinitely versatile herb, flat-leaf parsley.

I served a robust winter salad of beets and carrots on the side, and between the softness of the egg and potatoes, and the crunchiness of the salad, it all came out rather nicely!

Potato and Pea Frittata - 1 onion, halved and thinly sliced into half moons - 200g potatoes, peeled and diced small - 150g frozen peas - 8 eggs - 1 tbs marjoram, chopped - a generous handful of grated parmesan - salt, pepper - olive oil Place the diced potatoes in a saucepan of cold water. Bring to the boil, and simmer for 5 or 6 minutes, then drain. Boil the kettle. Place the peas in a bowl, pour the boiling water over them, and leave them to soften. Warm a good drizzle of olive oil in a wide skillet. Fry the onion until it softens, then add the potatoes and cook for 7 or 8 minutes. Don't brown the veggies, just let them cook through. Drain the peas and add them to the skillet. Cook for a few more minutes, then remove the vegetables to a bowl. Turn on your griller. Break the eggs into a bowl and whisk. Season, and add the marjoram and parmesan. Add the vegetables and stir to combine. Reheat the skillet with another drizzle of oil, if necessary. When it is good and hot, pour in the egg mixture – it should immediately frill around the edges. Turn down the heat and cook at medium heat for 7 or 8 minutes, running a flexible spatula under it from time to time to prevent it from sticking. When it is mostly set, but the top is still runny, place it under the griller for a minute or two. It is done when the top puffs slightly. Remove from the heat. Run a flexible spatula underneath it, hold a large plate against the pan, and flip! Sprinkle with extra herbs, and serve. This tastes best tepid. My husband ate it with beetroot relish on the side. Adapted from a recipe by Nigella Lawson in Forever Summer. (Local: onions, potatoes, eggs, marjoram, olive oil. Not local: peas, salt, pepper, parmesan.)