To prepare fresh fava beans for cooking, I start by unzipping the fuzzy green pods and plucking out the handful of smooth-skinned nuggets hemmed along their length. Next, I plunge the beans into boiling water, just for a few moments, to soften their taut, waxy sheath and drop them into ice-cold water to halt cooking. Then, after toweling them dry, I slit each sheath with the tip of a paring knife and squeeze gently so that the green gems pop out—gleaming and completely unscathed.
It’s a heck of a preamble for any produce, but I’d argue that it’s a meditative spring ritual and that the willingness to undertake it is a testament to just how special fresh favas are. After months of hardy brassicas
