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Runner beans from the garden or the market, blanched until bright and tender, dressed warm with a sharp shallot vinaigrette that softens as it sits. August on a plate.
August, and the runner beans have taken over. They do this every year. You plant four seeds in May, thinking that seems reasonable, and by midsummer you've got a wall of green and more beans than you know what to do with. The neighbours start avoiding eye contact because you've already left a bag on their doorstep twice this week.
This is the salad that makes sense of the glut. Beans sliced on the diagonal, blanched in properly saltedwater until they're tender but still have something to say, then dressed while warm with a vinaigrette sharp enough to cut through their sweetness. The shallots sit in vinegar first, losing their rawness and turning pink. The mustard holds the dressing together. The whole thing takes twenty minutes and tastes like the garden.
I make this more than any other salad between July and September. It goes next to a piece of grilled lamb, beside a few slices of good ham, or on its own with bread and butter when it's too warm to cook anything more. I wrote it down in the notebook years ago: beans, shallots, vinegar, Tuesday. The recipe hasn't changed since, because it doesn't need to.
We're only making dinner. But dinner, when the beans are this good and the evening is still light at eight o'clock, can be a quietly splendid thing.
Quantity
500g
topped, tailed, strings removed
Quantity
2
peeled and finely diced
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
5 tablespoons
Quantity
1 small clove
crushed to a paste with salt
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
small handful
roughly chopped
Quantity
a few
Quantity
a squeeze
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| runner beanstopped, tailed, strings removed | 500g |
| banana shallotspeeled and finely diced | 2 |
| red wine vinegar | 2 tablespoons |
| Dijon mustard | 1 teaspoon |
| good olive oil | 5 tablespoons |
| garliccrushed to a paste with salt | 1 small clove |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
| flat-leaf parsleyroughly chopped | small handful |
| chive flowers (optional) | a few |
| lemon juice | a squeeze |
Slice the beans on the diagonal, about the width of your little finger. Not too thin. You want them to have some presence on the plate, some bite. Runner beans cut on the diagonal look like they're going somewhere. Flat, square-cut beans look like school dinners.
Bring a large pan of well-salted water to a rolling boil. Salt it like the sea. Drop the beans in and cook for three to four minutes, tasting one after three. You want them tender with a slight resistance, not squeaky, not soft. The colour will go from garden green to a brighter, almost startling green. That's when they're close. Drain and spread them on a wide plate to cool. Don't refresh them in iced water. You want them warm when the dressing goes on.
While the beans cook, make the dressing. Put the diced shallots in a small bowl with the vinegar and a pinch of salt. Let them sit for five minutes. The vinegar softens their bite and turns them a lovely, flushed pink. Add the mustard and the garlic paste. Stir. Then pour in the olive oil slowly, whisking with a fork until it comes together into something glossy and sharp. Taste it. It should make you wince slightly. The beans will absorb that sharpness and mellow it.
Tumble the warm beans onto a serving plate, something flat and generous. Spoon the vinaigrette over, making sure the shallot pieces are evenly scattered, not pooled in the middle. Toss gently with your hands if you're comfortable with that, or two spoons if you're not. A squeeze of lemon. The parsley, torn more than chopped if you can be bothered. Chive flowers pulled apart over the top if the garden has them. Eat while the beans are still warm and the dressing is still sharp. This doesn't improve with waiting.
1 serving (about 180g)
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