I know, I photograph these things every year. These pea photos are from last week, we've already had the first meal with them. Soon there'll be enough for pea sandwiches, which is the high point of the pea season, but can only really be indulged in when they are at they're most plentiful, don't ask me why, it's just one of those things you're supposed to do when you have a glut of fresh peas, which is in fact a contradiction in terms; how could you ever have too many fresh peas?
Recipe: lightly blanched peas, drained and slightly mashed, butter, black pepper, in brown bread. That's all.
I don't normally do this, as I don't like my hands. I mean I don't care for how they look, particularly in photos, where I sometimes find myself grumpily asking how my mother managed to get her hands into the shot. As tools I'm perfectly happy with them.
Mol would sell her soul for fresh peas, even, or perhaps especially, the pods. If you put a pod of freshly picked peas (bought ones from market or supermarket are not quite so irresistible), a piece of freshly roast duck meat, and a piece of chocolate (which she's never really had anyway and has no great desire for, we can eat it without any excessive groaking on her part), it would be the pea pod she'd go for first. If she thinks I have one in my hand she bounces along at my heels like a border collie puppy in obedience training, and our shared delight in munching them straight from the plant as soon as they are ripe (I have to pick them and give them to her, she doesn't steal them) is perhaps another reason why we never experience a glut of them.
When I give her the discarded pods, I tend to peel away the inner, plasticky, opercule which can make her sick, which is also the way to enjoy pea pods oneself without being left with a stringy unswallowable mass in one's mouth, a tip I picked up reading Pierre Jakez Helias.
She will settle for a broad bean though. ( I left my feet and ankles in this one, since though I don't much care for the appearance of those either, I like my split old vinyl sabots and that ancient summer skirt.
The broad beans (fava beans in US English I think, must be related to the French fève) are pink ones, Karmazyn variety, and look rather like fat pink thumbs themselves.
The pea beans, a kind of climbing French bean grown for its skewbald fruit best dried and stored, will be along later.