Any day now, the fresh peas will make their debut at the farmer’s markets. Nerd that I am, I’ve been waiting with baited breath. I get more excited for peas than for any other farm-grown produce. They’re so sweet, so tiny and vibrant – and they have me dreaming with possibilities.
Shelling the peas, of course, is part of the experience – taking them out on the porch and toiling away mindlessly. Not everyone finds that part fun, though. One of my best friends, who grew up on a Manitoba farm, once told me she has serious misgivings about sweet peas. Though she’ll admit to their tastiness, she says they conjure up childhood memories of idyllic summer days interrupted by her mom, who would pass her off a bushel from the garden and instruct her to shell enough for dinner for their family of six – plus the farm help.
In these parts, for the farm-kids-turned-city-dwellers, like my friend – or for the lazy or otherwise harassed – peas can be had without the work courtesy of the Gingrich family at Winfield Produce near Wallenstein. Alvin and Nancy Gingrich and their children grow 30 to 40 acres of peas, which they sell shelled – thanks not to elbow grease but a pea combine.
“The combine does the shelling in the field, then brings them into the shed for washing, grading and packaging in one pound bags,” Alvin explained to me. “They’re chilled in ice water and then run through a spin drier and packed. They have a short shelf life – only four or five days.”
Which means the peas get to market quickly – and are wonderfully fresh. Gingrich says there is only one other producer he knows of in Ontario that sells fresh shelled peas at market, and that’s in Belleville, so we should consider ourselves lucky.
The Gingrichs don’t sell their peas at farm gate, but rather wholesale to other vendors. You can find them at the St. Jacob’s and Kitchener farmer’s markets, Herrle’s Country Farm Market and a variety of other spots. Look for them to arrive in the next week or two, as Gingrich told me it would be late June this year (due to that cool spring we had) before the peas were in full swing. He’ll be harvesting right through to mid-September, though, so we have all summer to get our fill.
Thank goodness for that. When I think peas, I think pasta – peas in risotto, with pancetta and tortellini, tossed into a carbonara or in orzo salad with mint, lemon and some salty feta. I love them in potato salad, too.
One of my favourite recipes of the last few years is for Sweet Pea Mash. I learned this one from a friend who worked at Toronto’s Dish Cooking Studio, where it originates.
Here’s a quick and dirty version: Blanch three cups of fresh peas in boiling water – just for a minute! – then drain and rinse with cold water. Throw a small shallot and a clove of garlic into your food processor, mince them up finely, then add your peas, half a cup of grated Parmesan, and a whole head of roasted garlic and pulse until smooth. Keep the machine running and drizzle in a quarter-cup of olive oil. Season your mash with salt and pepper to taste and smear it on crostini. I’m all for stirring some chopped, fresh mint into the mix – or sprinkling it on top – just because peas and mint are such a beautiful combo. But it’s lovely as is, too, and makes a great appetizer.
It feels a bit sacrilegious, maybe, to puree those perfectly round little peas into a mush. But if you didn’t shell them yourself, maybe it’s not so terrible? Regardless, all the more reason to start thinking about how to eat them next. I’d start simple – a big steamed bowl tossed with butter, salt and pepper. Summer perfection.
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Shelling the peas, of course, is part of the experience – taking them out on the porch and toiling away mindlessly. Not everyone finds that part fun, though. One of my best friends, who grew up on a Manitoba farm, once told me she has serious misgivings about sweet peas. Though she’ll admit to their tastiness, she says they conjure up childhood memories of idyllic summer days interrupted by her mom, who would pass her off a bushel from the garden and instruct her to shell enough for dinner for their family of six – plus the farm help.
In these parts, for the farm-kids-turned-city-dwellers, like my friend – or for the lazy or otherwise harassed – peas can be had without the work courtesy of the Gingrich family at Winfield Produce near Wallenstein. Alvin and Nancy Gingrich and their children grow 30 to 40 acres of peas, which they sell shelled – thanks not to elbow grease but a pea combine.
“The combine does the shelling in the field, then brings them into the shed for washing, grading and packaging in one pound bags,” Alvin explained to me. “They’re chilled in ice water and then run through a spin drier and packed. They have a short shelf life – only four or five days.”
Which means the peas get to market quickly – and are wonderfully fresh. Gingrich says there is only one other producer he knows of in Ontario that sells fresh shelled peas at market, and that’s in Belleville, so we should consider ourselves lucky.
The Gingrichs don’t sell their peas at farm gate, but rather wholesale to other vendors. You can find them at the St. Jacob’s and Kitchener farmer’s markets, Herrle’s Country Farm Market and a variety of other spots. Look for them to arrive in the next week or two, as Gingrich told me it would be late June this year (due to that cool spring we had) before the peas were in full swing. He’ll be harvesting right through to mid-September, though, so we have all summer to get our fill.
Thank goodness for that. When I think peas, I think pasta – peas in risotto, with pancetta and tortellini, tossed into a carbonara or in orzo salad with mint, lemon and some salty feta. I love them in potato salad, too.
One of my favourite recipes of the last few years is for Sweet Pea Mash. I learned this one from a friend who worked at Toronto’s Dish Cooking Studio, where it originates.
Here’s a quick and dirty version: Blanch three cups of fresh peas in boiling water – just for a minute! – then drain and rinse with cold water. Throw a small shallot and a clove of garlic into your food processor, mince them up finely, then add your peas, half a cup of grated Parmesan, and a whole head of roasted garlic and pulse until smooth. Keep the machine running and drizzle in a quarter-cup of olive oil. Season your mash with salt and pepper to taste and smear it on crostini. I’m all for stirring some chopped, fresh mint into the mix – or sprinkling it on top – just because peas and mint are such a beautiful combo. But it’s lovely as is, too, and makes a great appetizer.
It feels a bit sacrilegious, maybe, to puree those perfectly round little peas into a mush. But if you didn’t shell them yourself, maybe it’s not so terrible? Regardless, all the more reason to start thinking about how to eat them next. I’d start simple – a big steamed bowl tossed with butter, salt and pepper. Summer perfection.
-30-
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