Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Fabulous legumes, part 1: the hole in the fava

A month ago, I was pleased to have my good friend Cari over for a mini vacation in Greece. We agreed to meet in Athens and I was delighted not only to see my friend again, but to meet her mother Sandy and their family friend Christy. 

Since Cari was fully aware of my food passion, I thought that a culinary tour of Athens, besides the expected sightseeing, would be a good idea. So, I invited the lovely ladies to a true Greek gyro place, where I was taken by surprise when Christy ordered with much enthusiasm the bubbly lemonade, a typical refreshment in Greece, but an uncommon choice in the US. They all yearned to try the mousaka, the Greek version of lasagna with layers of aubergine and zucchini instead of pasta sheets and a rich creamy bechamel top. Images of succulent pieces of mousaka were portrayed everywhere in downtown Athenian restaurants, as this particular dish has been foreign visitors' favorite and has become the cornerstone of Greek gastronomic tourism.

And then an unusual request came from the happy visitors, as they expressed the wish to try fava beans. That woke gruesome memories from my childhood, when I was strictly forbidden to eat that oddly looking relative of legumes. Doctors explained my condition as G6PD deficiency or favism, a lack of an enzyme, which can cause severe hemolysis in case of fava bean consumption, a condition very common in Greece. Put in motherly care jargon: eat a single bean and you will turn blue!

The fear of turning into an ungraceful Smurf followed me all the way to the US. Fully unaware of the market name of this bean, I refused to eat anything resembling it. All I knew was its scientific name, but I found it ridiculous to go around asking producers or waiters if their product contained any Vicia faba. However, in a trip to Seattle's Pike Place Market, I was lucky enough to encounter my culinary enemy under a distinguishable sign saying "Fava beans". My relief for knowing the bean's name was enhanced by realizing that fava beans were not a common delicacy, even in an area famous for its legume production, such as the Palouse. 

Fava bean though is one of the oldest plant species that were domesticated for mass production in Northen Africa and the surrounding areas and it has been part of the Mediterranean diet for over 6,000 years. It is also known as broad bean for its big and flat shape, compared to other kinds of beans. For certain civilizations the fava bean had symbolic value as well. Given its dark brown color, Ancient Greeks used it as a voting chip, declaring a negative vote, as opposed to a white bean for positive support. In other cultures, fava bean symbolizes good luck, and it is hidden in pies for the fortunate to find. In the Italian-American cultural beliefs, fava bean crops saved the population from starvation in a Middle Ages drought in Sicily, with the blessing of St. Joseph. Thus, Italian-Americans give grace to St. Joseph by distributing food, including fava beans, to the needy, a practice very common in Catholic communities of New Orleans. 

As I was explaining to my visiting friends, old and newly acquired, how to find fava beans in Greek restaurants, I had to clarify a common language misconception. Fava comes from the latin word faba, which means bean and explains perfectly the given name of this peculiar legume. However, if you order fava in a Greek restaurant you will find yourself in the surprising position of receiving a healthy serving of split pea puree, yellow or green, depending on the variety of the seed.

Wierd... or as Greeks like to say "there's a hole in the fava"! The expression refers to the way split pea puree is served, in a deep bowl with a big hole in the middle, which hosts a generous serving of olive oil. The linguistic misconception about the name fava probably stems from the fact that both grains belong to relative botanical families, as well as their similar culinary uses. Fava bean puree, made of cracked beans, slow cooked until they melt and served with the same hole in the middle, is also a common dish in Greece. But isn't any other legume puree, like hummus?

The answer follows in a few days! 

*A big thank-you to Costas Pigadas for enthusiastically contributing to this blog post, with cooking and food styling ideas. 

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