Erica De Mane

This isn’t a recipe so much as it is a reminder. Recipes are often like that for me, just notes to wake up memories, telling me something like, I haven’t made that in a while, but now that I think of it, I want to taste it again. So I’m hoping this will remind you to eat fava beans soon. Their season is now. They are admittedly a lot of work. In fact I got so burnt out from shucking, blanching, and then peeling them during my restaurant days that I thought I’d never prepare them again. But here I’m not talking crateloads of them, like when I was a cook a Le Madri, but only a big bagful. At Le Madri we weren’t allowed to Zen out during the task. We had to stay alert, and we had to be really fast. At home you can Zen all you want and take your time. I brought my load out of the kitchen and into the living room, where I peeled while chatting with my husband about the George Floyd trial, not a joyful subject, but with my anger escalating the work went fast.

In Tuscany fava beans are often paired with young pecorino cheeses. That is a beautiful thing. I had on hand a big wedge of Silano caciocavallo, from Calabria. It’s one of my favorite cheeses. Sweet, bitter, soft textured. Good caciocavallo is made throughout Southern Italy, and especially in my ancestral town of Castelfranco in Miscano, on the border of Puglia and Campania. Both Silano and the Castelfranco are PDO cheeses, protected designation of origin, made from cow’s or sheep’s milk or a mix of both. In the fall I serve caciocavallo with pears. But springtime is for fava beans, so that’s where it landed now. Here’s what you’ll want to do to make this salad for four people.

Buy about 2 pounds of fava beans. Shuck them. Set up a big pot of water, and bring it to a boil. Put the favas in the water, and blanch them for about 10 seconds. Pour them into a colander, and run cold water over them until they’re cool. Now, and here comes the tedious part, with your thumbnail puncture each fava to split the skin near the seam, and then squeeze out the bright green, now skinless, bean into a large bowl. Do this with all the beans.

Take about ½ pound of caciocavallo, remove its waxy surface, and cut it into small cubes, about the size of the beans. Add them to the bowl. Drizzle on a good amount of your best olive oil, at least ¼ cup. I used Ravida, a really fine Sicilian oil. Add a little salt, freshly ground black pepper, and a few drops of rice wine vinegar (very little), and give everything a gentle toss. Slice about 10 spearmint leaves into chiffonade, and scatter them over the top. I like to serve this with good Italian bread, usually piling up the salad on a slice and spooning on any oil remaining in the bowl. This is best with a glass of Southern Italian rosato. I especially like Cerasuolo d’Abruzzo wines.