At long last. My last taste of a fresh fava bean was in June 2004, at Cafe Sheinkin in Auckland, New Zealand. I ate Sunday brunch there every weekend, and almost invariably ordered the fava hummus. It was an extraordinary paste: green, garlicky, bracing, in a moat of shocking-pink beet juice framed by a ring of bruschetta toasts. A perfect, perfect weekend breakfast.
For some reason I can’t find fresh favas in Hawaii but the vines I planted at Christmas have finally yielded fruits, if precious few. The next and most pressing decision in my life is whether to prepare a hummus, in the manner of Chez Panisse (a promising recipe, with thyme) or to cook them in their original beauty. I feel strongly inclined to toss them with spaghetti.
Other garden goings-on: Meyer Lemons:
…which have, it seems, more flowers than leaves, an energetically unbalanced equation if nothing changes come summer. Also going strong: sage, and parsley, and basil, and rosemary. The green onions have set seed, and the fennel’s feathers are tickling the kale.
There is also a complicated inventory of tomatoes. Another time.