Fava Bean Pesto

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.
Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

[I hate and I love. Why do I do it, perchance you might ask?
I don't know, but I feel it happening to me and I'm burning up.]
(C.V. Catullus, Carmen LXXXV)

Dedicated to the fava bean.

Dear fava, I love you because:
1) You're transient and ephemeral. Available only few weeks a year, you're a treasured fruit, a true delicacy. When you come, it's a feast;
2) Protected even by two precious pods, you're intriguing and mysterious. With reason, you're hiding from the outside world, giving yourself only to those who take you really seriously;
3) You're of such a nice pastel green that it instantly makes one happy;
4) You're a spontaneous and wholesome lady, with all the taste of the old world;
5) You're really good.

Dear fava, I hate you because:
1) You're confusing and erratic. One never knows when you're about to arrive, and one can't even look for a recipe that you've already disappeared;
2) Protected even by two hairy skins, you're arrogant and deceitful. You're snobbish with no reason, giving me - from two miserable bags - only one pathetic jar of pesto;
3) You're of such a greenish color that it's a little scary;
4) You're just a poor fava, and you make me do all this work?
5) Reluctantly, I have to admit you're always right: you're really good.

I could have never imagined I'd dedicate the wonderful poem above to a green creature. This is called a foodblogger's delirium. Don't pay attention to it, it'll go away soon, just like the very brief fava season.

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.
Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
(C.V. Catullus, Carmen LXXXV)


Fava Bean Pesto

fava beans, net about 150 gr.
garlic 1 small clove
grated pecorino cheese 2-3 tablespoons
lemon juice 1 tablespoon
olive oil 3 tablespoons
fresh mint 6-8 leaves
salt, pepper to taste

NOTE: To get 150 gr net of shelled fava beans, I think I started from approximately one and a half kilo of fresh ones (now you understand my delirium?).

Shell fava beans, blanch them briefly in boiling water, then rinse them under cool water and remove their inner skin. At this point, if you love fava beans, take all the ingredients and crush them with love in a mortar. If, instead, you're more on the hate side, take all the ingredients and throw them in a blender for two minutes, just like I did.
Spread the pesto on top of toasted bread slices, or use it for pasta.

Dear fava, I'll see you again next year. Me, I've already done enough.