Bean and Legume

The success of this deceptively simple soup depends on the use of perfectly fresh English peas and careful, brief cooking to preserve their delicate flavor. The unctuous duck egg gilds the lily, highlighting the vibrant sweetness and color of the peas. If you wish to make the soup in advance of serving, chill it quickly in an ice bath after straining and blending in the cream. When ready to serve, reheat the soup while you poach the eggs.

I created this dish following a particularly inspirational visit to the farmers’ market, one of those visits where every vegetable looks like something holy and you want to take home every variety laid out in front of you. Think of this soup as more of a philosophy than a recipe. Use the very best, freshest, tiniest baby spring vegetables you can find, either following the guidelines here or substituting whatever looks best in the market, then accent their sweetness with just a hint of mint, lemon verbena, or cicely. If you do use favas in the recipe, be sure to follow the directions here for removing their skins; using the traditional blanching method will result in overcooked beans. The Cincinnati radish makes the soup a very pale, pretty pink that looks gorgeous served in shallow white bowls. Because this is such an easy soup to make, I also like to serve it in demitasse cups or small mugs as a walk-around first course for a relaxed spring get-together.

This bright, sassy soup is full of big flavors—garlic, peppers, and lemon—that team up to accent the briny clams. The dish is then tamed, just a bit, with velvety Controne beans, one of my favorite Italian beans. Goat Horn peppers are red, slim peppers that you can find in Spanish and Italian markets, or in some upscale grocery stores. The preparation of this soup is fairly straightforward, and once you start cooking, the dish moves quickly. Have all of your ingredients prepared and ready before you begin.

My wife, Angela, loves mussels, especially the fat, tender Mediterranean mussels you get in summer and early fall. Consequently, we eat a lot of them—steamed, in salads, with pastas, you name it. Light enough for a summer dish, this terrific soup is also delicious in the winter months made with Prince Edward Island (P.E.I.) mussels instead.

Using vanilla in savory dishes has become more popular, but don’t discount it as just a fad. The vanilla adds a depth and a fragrance that your guests probably won’t be able to peg right off the bat, but I guarantee they’ll love the combination. Sea bass has a clean, slightly buttery flavor that really works with the vanilla oil, while the peas add sweetness and texture and the mint brightens the whole thing up. The extra vanilla oil will last up to 2 weeks in the fridge, and makes a fabulous addition to vinaigrettes. Save the vanilla pod and bury it in sugar, or cover it in vodka to make your own extract.

This cooking method only works with the very first favas of spring—the ones that are thin skinned enough to be eaten whole. Not only is this a light, crunchy, and addictive snack, but it’s also a nice way to enjoy fava beans without all the fuss. For dipping, mild green garlic makes for an aioli that doesn’t overwhelm the favas’ sweet flavor.

Tongues have an awesome richness that goes completely underappreciated because people don’t serve them, fearing a food that can taste them. That’s silly. Tongues are cheap and delicious, and enjoyment of this unique cut is all in the preparation. Once I found a reliable tongue source, I was elated, and I started putting them on the restaurant menus in an attempt to win more converts. For this dish, the meat does need a while to cook, but you can poach them up to a day in advance.

My dad used to make these crisp and vinegary dilly beans every summer, in those fleeting moments between the time the bean bushes bear fruit and the grazing deer eat their fill. My sister has since taken over this tradition, and the few precious jars she gives us each year are worth their weight in gold.

With their grassy flavor and creamy texture, pink-eyed peas subtly reinforce the sweet earthiness of roasted sweet potatoes. As always, fresh peas are best, but in the winter you can make this dish with frozen field peas or dried or canned navy beans.

Allowing the farmer’s market to determine the mix of beans in this filling salad gives new meaning to the traditional “three-bean salad.” Fresh beans are always a treat, but I make this dish year-round by using canned navy, garbanzo, or cannellini beans when fresh ones aren’t available. If using canned beans, just skip the blanching step and toss the beans with the herb vinaigrette.

The quick blanching process used in this superfresh salad unlocks the beans’ flavors without boiling away their satisfyingly snappy crispness. As with most salads, using few, minimally processed ingredients means that the quality of each ingredient—from the oil to the greens and even the salt—plays a significant role in the quality of the finished product. Using high-quality seasonal ingredients makes this salad positively shine.

My mom always made these sticky-sweet baked beans for picnics and cookouts. I make them year-round with most any type of cooked dried beans, including navy, pinto, or great Northern. In the summer, though, fresh and tender butter beans are my favorite. When entertaining, I often give this homey dish an air of sophistication by baking and serving it in individual-size ramekins or custard dishes topped with slices of pork belly in place of the bacon.

Succotash is a traditional stew of fresh butter beans and corn made velvety by the last-minute addition of butter. The basics—beans and corn—are a must, but beyond that it seems most every Southern family has its own particular version. I typically let the farmer’s market determine the mix of vegetables, but this rendition, with sweet bell peppers, basil, and summer squash, is one of my all-time favorites.

Unlike my mom and many Southern cooks of her generation, for whom fatback was the preferred flavoring agent, I most often make peas in a savory broth flavored by bacon, country ham, or olive oil. Either way, the cooked peas yield a rich, saucy pot likker that just begs to be soaked up with cornbread.

When it comes to good luck, Southerners don’t take any chances. Each year on New Year’s Day, we hedge our bets by eating hoppin’ John, a rustic mix of rice, black-eyed peas, bacon, and onion that is thought to bring good fortune in the year to come. (Literally—the peas in the dish represent coins, and the stewed collards that are usually served on the side are the rich green of dollar bills.) For extra good luck, serve with Mess o’ Greens (page 245).

Long-simmering red beans practically cook themselves, a fact that didn’t escape the many generations of hardworking Louisiana Creole women who supposedly made this dish every Monday, on laundry day. Even now, many Creole restaurants serve red beans and rice as a lunch special on Mondays.

A Charleston classic, pirlou (aka purloo or pilau) is an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink rice pilaf that is the lowcountry contribution to the family of rice dishes, including jambalaya and gumbo, hailing from the rice-growing regions of the Southeast. Pirlous usually feature seafood of some kind—as you might expect, given their watery origins—but I like the way this simplified version showcases the grassy flavor of fresh field peas.

Rich and meaty Brunswick stew is a true Southern classic. This streamlined rendition of my mom’s perfect version makes a huge amount of food—but to my thinking, that’s the point of stew. It tastes even better the next day, so it’s a great make-ahead meal if you are planning to have weekend visitors or feed a big crowd. You can also pop some in the freezer for a quick-fix weeknight supper another time.

A few years ago, at Easter, in addition to the usual spread of ham and sides, I made a gratin of white beans, country ham, and collards from Frank Stitt’s very fine Southern Table cookbook. That dish, which everyone raved about, and the leftover ham bone—a prized ingredient that should never, ever be put to waste—inspired this low-on-the-hog soup.