A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by Chef Thomas
Double-podded broad beans and sweet peas, dressed simply with torn mint, lemon, and good olive oil. The kind of bowl that tastes the way a June garden smells.
June is the month this salad belongs to. The broad beans come in thick and fast, the pods fat and furry, and the peas a week or two behind them. Everything is green. The garden smells of warm earth and cut grass, and the kitchen window is open because for once the weather has remembered it's supposed to be summer.
Double-podding broad beans takes a little time. Not much, and you shouldn't begrudge it. You split the outer pod, blanch the beans briefly, then slip each one out of its grey jacket to reveal the bright, almost luminous green inside. The transformation is the whole point. What was dull and slightly bitter becomes sweet and tender, the colour of something that was growing in the ground an hour ago. This is the step that separates a good broad bean salad from a forgettable one.
The peas want almost nothing done to them. A minute in boiling water, or less if they're fresh from the pod and still warm from the sun. Mint, torn by hand. Lemon. Good olive oil, enough that it pools in the bottom of the bowl. Season and taste. Then taste again.
This is the sort of thing I put in front of people on a warm evening when the table is outside and nobody is in a hurry. It sits alongside grilled lamb or a piece of fish, or it sits on its own with bread and that's enough. I wrote it down in the notebook the first time I made it: broad beans, peas, mint, lemon, the garden. Some recipes don't need more than a few words because the ingredients are the whole story.
Quantity
1kg in pods (or 300g podded)
double-podded
Quantity
200g in pods (or 150g podded)
podded
Quantity
small bunch
leaves picked and torn
Quantity
1
juiced
Quantity
enough to dress generously
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
50g
shaved
Quantity
a handful
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| broad beansdouble-podded | 1kg in pods (or 300g podded) |
| fresh peaspodded | 200g in pods (or 150g podded) |
| fresh mintleaves picked and torn | small bunch |
| lemonjuiced | 1 |
| good olive oil | enough to dress generously |
| flaky sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
| pecorino or hard goat's cheese (optional)shaved | 50g |
| pea shoots (optional) | a handful |
Split the broad bean pods along their seam and run your thumb down the velvet lining. The beans tumble out, still wearing their grey-green jackets. Put them aside. This is the quiet, meditative bit. If someone else is in the kitchen, give them a pile. Podding is better shared.
Bring a pan of well-salted water to a rolling boil. Drop the podded beans in for two minutes, no more. Drain and tip them straight into a bowl of cold water. When they're cool enough to handle, pinch the skin of each bean between your thumb and finger. The bright green kernel inside will slip out, vivid and tender. Discard the skins. This is the step that makes the difference. The grey jackets are tough and chalky. The beans inside are sweet, almost creamy. It takes a few minutes. It is worth every one of them.
Pod the peas if they're fresh. Bring the same water back to the boil and cook them for a minute, perhaps two if they're large. You want them just past raw, still bright, with a slight resistance when you bite one. Drain and cool them alongside the beans. If you've picked them from the garden or bought them truly fresh, taste a few raw. Sometimes the best thing to do with a perfect pea is nothing at all.
Tumble the beans and peas into a wide, shallow bowl. Squeeze the lemon over them, catching the pips in your other hand. Pour a generous amount of olive oil over the top. More than you think. The oil and lemon should pool slightly in the bottom of the bowl, not coat everything in a slick. Scatter the torn mint leaves through. Season with flaky salt and a few turns of pepper. Toss gently with your hands. Taste it. Adjust. More lemon, more salt, more oil. It should taste clean and green and unmistakably of summer.
If you have some pecorino or a hard goat's cheese, shave a few pieces over the top with a vegetable peeler. Scatter a handful of pea shoots if they're around. Neither is essential. The salad is complete without them. Serve it at room temperature or just cool, never fridge-cold. Straight from the fridge numbs the flavour and you've gone to too much trouble for that.
1 serving (about 150g)
Culinary mentorship, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Explore Culinary Advisor