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Created by Chef Thomas
Fresh peas from the pod, turned quickly in butter with torn mint leaves, the kind of side dish that tastes like the garden in June and needs nothing more than it already has.
June is the month you wait for if you grow peas. The plants have been climbing their canes since April, all leaf and tendril and quiet purpose, and then one morning you part the foliage and find the first fat pods hanging there, cool to the touch. You pick a handful. You eat one standing in the garden. The rest make it to the kitchen.
There's nothing to this recipe. That's the point. Fresh peas need butter, a scattering of mint, two minutes in a warm pan, and the good sense to leave them alone. The sweetness is already there. The colour is already there. Your job is to not get in the way. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, and this one is a short conversation. Three ingredients. One pan. Less than a quarter of an hour from garden to table.
I put a bowl of these in front of someone last summer and they ate the lot before the lamb had even been carved. Nobody apologised. I wrote it down in the notebook: peas, butter, mint, gone. There are few better feelings than putting a warm plate in front of someone and watching it empty without a word.
Quantity
500g (or 250g podded weight)
podded
Quantity
a generous knob
Quantity
small handful
torn
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| fresh peas in their podspodded | 500g (or 250g podded weight) |
| unsalted butter | a generous knob |
| fresh mint leavestorn | small handful |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
Sit down with the bowl of pods and run your thumb along the seam. They split open with a satisfying click. The peas inside should be bright, sweet, and firm. Eat a few raw as you go. This is not optional. A pea straight from its pod tastes like the garden smells, green and clean and faintly sweet, and it tells you everything you need to know about how to cook them: barely.
Melt the butter in a wide pan over a medium heat. When it foams and starts to smell warm and sweet, add the peas. Stir them through the butter so they're coated, then let them cook for a minute or two. No more. You want them hot and glossy, still bright green, still with a bit of resistance when you bite one. The moment they turn dull or soft, you've gone too far.
Take the pan off the heat. Tear the mint leaves over the peas, not chopped, torn, so the edges bruise and release their oil. Season with salt and a grind of black pepper. Toss everything together once and turn out into a warm bowl. The butter will have gone slightly green from the peas. The mint will hit you before you've picked up your fork. Serve straight away. Peas don't wait.
1 serving (about 70g)
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