The coronation quiche recipe got my family discussing the vexed subject of broad beans, known as fava beans in the US, a vegetable we grow in the garden and a favourite for summer lunches. Sadly, for many people they seem to conjure up the grey, puffy-yet-tough excrescences of school meals, preferably left on the side of the plate or squirrelled into a handkerchief for secret disposal later. They also used to appear in old-fashioned science lessons, when we’d grow the beans in a jar to observe the stages of plant growth from seed – often a rather sad and floppy affair due to student neglect and lack of light and water.
Broad beans are a truly modern food since they’re both easy to grow and sustainable
It’s a shame broad beans retain this reputation, since modern chefs have shown what a fresh delicacy this legume can be in salads, risottos and accompaniments to fish and meat, especially when picked young and not overcooked. Historically, also, we should embrace vicia faba as the original Old World bean of Europe – it was among the first crops introduced by Neolithic farmers to Britain. Thriving in most soils and climates, broad beans were an important part of the British diet in medieval times, particularly among the poor, as a protein- and carbohydrate-rich food that could be stored and eaten all year. Like dried peas, they were commonly eaten as a porridge or made into bread.
As children we’d eat broad beans raw, straight from the pod, usually when sent to the vegetable patch to pick them for lunch (we’d tell my mother the pigeons had got them, to account for our meagre offerings). Always gathered when the pods are full but still small, because small beans are sweeter and more tender, the feeling of splitting the pod and scooping out those fresh green beans with your thumb is a truly Proustian memory. We learned young that the scar on the bean should always be white or green, not black, since by then the beans would have become tough. Also, they don’t keep more than a day or two in the fridge, so are to be enjoyed as fresh as possible.
Broad beans are a truly modern food since they’re both easy to grow and sustainable: they are nitrogen-fixers, meaning they improve soil quality by adding nitrogen, rather than taking it away. And following research led by Professor Julie Lovegrove of Reading University, they could also become one of the wheat substitutes used in flour to improve nutrition – the idea being not to change how people eat, but the nutritional value of what’s on their plates. (It would certainly give a new twist to beans on toast.)
Despite these life-giving properties, in mythology broad beans have long been associated with death and the underworld. Pliny wrote that Pythagoreans believed the flesh-like fava beans could contain the souls of the dead, and even that their black-spotted flowers and hollow stems connected the plants to Hades, providing ladders for human souls to enter the next world. In Italy broad beans have traditionally been sown on November 2, All Souls Day, and their popular, macaroon-style biscuits in the shape of broad beans are known as fave dei morti or “beans of the dead”.
Portugal and Spain have more festive traditions that date back to Roman times: the traditional Bolo-Rei or King’s Cake is baked at Christmas with a dried fava bean inside, and whoever eats the slice containing the bean is supposed to buy next year’s cake. In France, similarly, the fève (more commonly a trinket these days) is concealed within the Galette des Rois, and the finder becomes the king or queen of the meal, but is expected to serve drinks to the other guests.
As for that family discussion on the coronation quiche, we agreed that the unusual choice of filling – using three greens that would likely feature top of the nation’s least-favourites – was unwise. While my children declared a liking for spinach and broad beans (sometimes) they unanimously vetoed tarragon: “Ugh! too strong and aromatic!” Needless to say, it’s a herb I love, not least because the first thing I ever made at cookery school was Poulet à L’Estragon. Heavenly. But to put those three ingredients together in a quiche is a tough ask for both professional and amateur cooks. A well-made quiche is a labour of love: not just the many stages of baking perfect homemade pastry, but also the careful adding of the filling and supervision of the cooking so it emerges tender, aromatic, and with bite, not a flavourless, soggy-bottom mush. I wonder why they took such risks with the filling. Sadly, it’s unlikely to promote a much-needed defence of beautiful broad beans.
Broad Bean Mash
This is a slightly earthier version of the ubiquitous pea puree.
300g podded and skinned broad beans
(about 1.2kg unpodded)
3 tbsp olive oil
Juice of half a lemon
Handful of mint leaves, roughly chopped
Salt, pepper and a pinch of caster sugar
Blanch the beans for 1-2 mins in a pan of boiling water. Drain well then place in a food processor, pulse to a chunky puree with the oil and lemon juice. Stir in the mint, seasoning and sugar to taste. Goes brilliantly with barbecued meats.
Lydia Brownlow is a former cookery editor at Good Housekeeping magazine and contributor to The Daily Beast. She currently inspires children to cook. More info at lydiabrownlow.com
