Me, and the Pea

I was not one of those kids whose mother made her eat peas. We were more of a baby carrot family with boiled broccoli florets and roasted red potatoes making an occasional appearance on the "veggie" portion of our plates. I imagine peas served as sides at a Sunday dinner or, dressed up in decorative bowl, at a Thanksgiving feast or two. But for everyday meals, my mother must have resigned herself to the fact that her girls were not pea people. We were a picky bunch, and this daughter in particular would have nothing mushy put on her plate. And peas, I'd been told, ranked high on the mushy scale.


Had my mother blitzed peas into pesto, however, my head would have snapped to attention. Pesto puts a bit of pea trickery into play. Plump English peas arrive at the table disguised as a spread so bright and inviting that no one (not even pea haters) can ignore invitations to try a bit.

The trick is to keep the peas as close to their fresh state as possible - this despite the fact that there's a quiet hum hinting the opposite, that this young legume benefits immensely from a long, slow boil. I'll bite that there's probably a place for slow-cooked peas at the table. But that's a taste test for another year. Any peas I'm making this spring need to retain their pop and integrity. The peas in this pesto succeed on that front. 

They bob around in a pot of boiling water, but only for a minute.  In this way, they retain their bite and springy character - even after you run them through the food processor. In the processor, they meet their partners in crime: glossy olive oil, sharp pecorino Romano, a whisper of tarragon, and just enough sea salt to heighten their appeal. Blitz everything long enough for the sauce to come together, but not long enough to puree the peas. You want a coarse-textured sauce with a pleasant mouthfeel, not a uniform spread.

The former is enlightening, the later what my childhood self called mush. 

English Pea Pesto
The pesto can serve as a sauce for pasta or gnocchi, a sandwich spread or even, I'd imagine, as a garnish for a fresh, spring soup like an asparagus vichyssoise. I prefer it spread thickly atop crunchy rounds of toasted bread, with or without garnishes like a shaving of pecorino romano or crisped piece of prosciutto. 

Makes about 3/4 cup pesto 

1 pound (about 1 cup) shucked English peas
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup finely grated pecorino Romano cheese
2 teaspoons finely chopped tarragon
Sea salt

Prepare an ice water bath. Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil. Add the peas and cook over high heat for 1 minute. Drain the peas and immediately drop them in the ice water bath to cool. Drain the cooled peas.

In the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade attachment, blend the peas and olive oil until just combined, not pureed. The pesto should still be slightly coarse.

Remove the blade and stir in the cheese and tarragon with a rubber spatula. Season to taste with salt. Use immediately.

-Recipe from Chef Matthew Busetto of Firehouse Restaurant