Crisp, fresh spring peas with their beautiful, light flavor create a delicate soup.
The Runaway Spoon
I was a latecomer to the joy of peas. And I think that may be because, like many people, my first introduction to peas was the canned variety. Mushy, salty, gray-green and generally unappetizing. And so time consuming to pick out of a casserole or pot pie, segregating them on one side of the plate, trying to keep them from rolling back into the good stuff. Frozen peas came later, but it took me awhile to get over the earlier canned pea trauma and give them a try. They were an improvement, but remember when frozen peas came in a box that you unwrapped to reveal a giant pea-studded ice cube? And I know people who will only eat peas that come from a certain silver can, and I have a relative who is pathologically afraid of peas, so my start with peas was a bumpy one.
But once I discovered the taste of a crisp pea though, I was hooked. And it was in England that I discovered the greatest joy of all, fresh from the pod peas. I first had them a restaurant, simply braised in butter and I assumed it must be some fancy variety we didn’t have in the States. Then I saw them on sale at a street market and stopped to gaze upon them. The vendor popped open a pod and gave me the peas to taste right there. An absolute revelation, as far from canned peas as Memphis to Mongolia. I bought a huge batch, and more the next day, and the next week.
At home, I discovered that frozen peas are now a darn good substitute and perhaps the most versatile food to have on hand. A handful of good frozen peas tossed into a risotto, soup, pasta, casserole – whatever – adds color and crunch and flavor instantly. I now occasionally find peas pods at the market, but peas begin to turn to starch very quickly after being picked, so they suffer from sitting on shelves. That is one reason frozen peas, now generally flash frozen quickly after they are harvested, are a good choice.