Cooking peas and lettuce together: I did it

[Jenise]

In another thread, we discussed this description by Marcella Hazan's husband Victor: "Marcella cooks peas: sweats finely sliced onion with a pinch of salt in olive oil, adds shelled peas, and shredded romaine. No liquid. Covers the pan, cooks at medium heat until the lettuce dissolves, bathing the peas. If peas are very fresh, done in 5 to 10 minutes."

Jeff chimed in with a recipe from Julia Child, in which a head of soft lettuces was cut into quarters and cooked with the peas. Some other ingredients were included and a longer cooking time (20 minutes), but the bones of it were far more alike than different.

So Trader Joe's had fresh peas the other day, and the protein in last night's dinner was going to be grilled-off pieces of a lamb-red wine meatloaf from earlier in the week, so the combination sounded particularly intuitive if a little chopped fresh mint was added to the peas just as they finished. Peas love mint, as does lamb: voila.

I used Marcella's approach, exactly. Basically the romaine sweats a vegetable-flavored liquid into the peas and that's what they cook in. Our conclusion? No big deal. There was absolutely nothing compelling about the result--no magic took place in the pan to make the whole greater than the sum of its parts. In fact, I added a squirt of lemon juice in addition to the mint to lift the whole a bit more--it seemed desperately underseasoned and salt alone did not help.

Don't bother.

Thanks for the detailed report, and the concluding tip!

[Jenise]

Thanks for the detailed report, and the concluding tip!

I should have included something along the lines of "I'm with David Creighton". That is, I *love* peas. Adore them. I'm not coming from the other side, I'm not someone who is ambivalent at best about peas. So if this didn't work for me....

In another thread, we discussed this description by Marcella Hazan's husband Victor: "Marcella cooks peas: sweats finely sliced onion with a pinch of salt in olive oil, adds shelled peas, and shredded romaine. No liquid. Covers the pan, cooks at medium heat until the lettuce dissolves, bathing the peas. If peas are very fresh, done in 5 to 10 minutes."

Jeff chimed in with a recipe from Julia Child, in which a head of soft lettuces was cut into quarters and cooked with the peas. Some other ingredients were included and a longer cooking time (20 minutes), but the bones of it were far more alike than different.

So Trader Joe's had fresh peas the other day, and the protein in last night's dinner was going to be grilled-off pieces of a lamb-red wine meatloaf from earlier in the week, so the combination sounded particularly intuitive if a little chopped fresh mint was added to the peas just as they finished. Peas love mint, as does lamb: voila.

I used Marcella's approach, exactly. Basically the romaine sweats a vegetable-flavored liquid into the peas and that's what they cook in. Our conclusion? No big deal. There was absolutely nothing compelling about the result--no magic took place in the pan to make the whole greater than the sum of its parts. In fact, I added a squirt of lemon juice in addition to the mint to lift the whole a bit more--it seemed desperately underseasoned and salt alone did not help.

Don't bother.

So noted. It sounded like a recipe from another era... and this confirms it.

Inspired by this idea, I picked up some beautiful radicchio from the farmers market this morning, as well as the first peas of spring. So I decided to quickly sautee down the radicchio, add in the shelled peas, and then finished with a bit of herb vinegar. It was all very lovely and my wife was especially pleased because it's a new taste of spring and ingredients we haven't eaten in a while. More than that, she also thought it was a combination that worked really well.

It didn't hurt that the rest of lunch was a gorgeous crab cake on top of a carrot top green puree and a side of new potatoes, another recent farmers market arrival. No complaints.

I had the best peas I've ever eaten at Playground in Santa Ana a couple of weeks back. I haven't stopped thinking about them since.

They were part of an amazing pasta and smoked trout dish. The peas simply popped in the mouth when bitten into. I asked Chef Jason Quinn how he prepared them, and he said steamed at 180 degrees for 3-4 minutes (I think).

I have those same TJ's peas, Jenise, and I plan to shuck them and try to replicate those mind-boggling damned pearls that Jason made.

[Jenise]

Inspired by this idea, I picked up some beautiful radicchio from the farmers market this morning, as well as the first peas of spring. So I decided to quickly sautee down the radicchio, add in the shelled peas, and then finished with a bit of herb vinegar. It was all very lovely and my wife was especially pleased because it's a new taste of spring and ingredients we haven't eaten in a while. More than that, she also thought it was a combination that worked really well.

It didn't hurt that the rest of lunch was a gorgeous crab cake on top of a carrot top green puree and a side of new potatoes, another recent farmers market arrival. No complaints.

But no onion? I think the onion element is what was unattractive to me. Raccichio, which I love sautéed, and the herb vinegar finish would have produced a better dish. Bravo.

[Jenise]

I had the best peas I've ever eaten at Playground in Santa Ana a couple of weeks back. I haven't stopped thinking about them since.

They were part of an amazing pasta and smoked trout dish. The peas simply popped in the mouth when bitten into. I asked Chef Jason Quinn how he prepared them, and he said steamed at 180 degrees for 3-4 minutes (I think).

Interesting. So the texture was like something you might 'inflated to the point of bursting'?

I had the best peas I've ever eaten at Playground in Santa Ana a couple of weeks back. I haven't stopped thinking about them since.

They were part of an amazing pasta and smoked trout dish. The peas simply popped in the mouth when bitten into. I asked Chef Jason Quinn how he prepared them, and he said steamed at 180 degrees for 3-4 minutes (I think).

Interesting. So the texture was like something you might 'inflated to the point of bursting'?

They didn't look inflated. I just think they were cooked to a perfect al dente texture so that there was this feeling of them popping. It was all about the texture.

But no onion? I think the onion element is what was unattractive to me. Raccichio, which I love sautéed, and the herb vinegar finish would have produced a better dish. Bravo.

No onion. Didn't remember the exact recipe and it didn't even occur to me. I can see how that would change things. Potentially making it a deeper dish flavor-wise, but also taking away from the spring freshness.

The recipe in Essential Pepin is delightful. Would relate the details but our cookbooks are already boxed up.