Simple Pleasures: Sugar Peas
Apr 9th, 2008 | By Hank | Category: The Garden | Comments | 13 Comments |
There are two things in the vegetable world I view with an obsession that borders on the carnal: Sungold tomatoes in summer, and sugar snap peas in spring. I grow them every year, and when the peas begin setting pods, I just…can’t…stop…eating them…
My lust for sugar peas expands inexorably; each season their patch grows larger. I plant in October or November, when duck hunting begins. Pushing those seeds into the earth is one of my final farewells to the little green world of my back yard before I turn my focus to the marshes.Â
Sugar peas weather our winters well, and creep upward on whatever trellis I provide. This last autumn I gave them the run of my old tomato patch; I reckoned I needed to add some nitrogen to the soil. Now mind you, my old tomato patch has a six-foot scaffold.
Well, winter became spring and the sugar peas grew like Jack’s nightmare. They are finally beginning to flag at seven feet, but only because they have run out of structure and 
are clutching at air in our unusally windy weather. But I have hundreds of peas.
Hundreds, I tell you. And I will eat them all. You cannot have any. They’re mine. Mine I say! These peas are…my precious.
Sorry. But I get a little crazy about sugar peas. I can and do eat them until they are gone. I downed four huge handfuls today. I just looked it up: I ate 792 percent of my daily recommended dose of Vitamin C, 124 percent of my RDA of Vitamin K (whatever that is), and 84 percent of my Vitamin A. And did I mention the fiber? Oh yes, there is fiber in them there peas.
But they are good. So good. I prick the bottom of the pea on its concave side and slip the string up toward the blossom end as if I were unzipping the dress of a beautiful woman at midnight. Then with a twist at the top, the string comes free and its companion on the little legume’s nether side slides off in a flash.
Juicy, crunchy, fresh and deeply vegetal. It is the sweet taste of spring.
Garrett, not a word out of you!
“as if I were unzipping the dress of a beautiful woman at midnight”
Just found yr blog and looking forward to digging in. We planted our snap peas last month, so we’re way behind you. But the overwintering Russian kale is just about perfect right now, tender and sweet. What did you do with yr morel?
Never mind on the morel question. Just read that post. V. nice!
Oh I am terribly envious. My spring peas were planted in February, not November when they should have been, so the plants are only a foot and a half tall now. Not even any flowers yet.
Last year I never ended up making anything with them. In fact, they never got beyond snow pea stage. Every morning I would visit my garden and eat every single pea.
To be honest, I didn’t even know you could plant snap peas in fall. Is that a California thing? I’m in Seattle and though it’s mostly mild, we usually get a couple inches of snow each winter (15″ once!) and several hard frosts. I’m guessing the peas wouldn’t like that…
I can attest to Hank’s having been obsessed with peas ever since he was a mere six year old and loving finding and eating the wild beach peas on Block Island. I even wrote a children’s short story for him about a lonely beach pea.
Here in the chilly Northeast the peas just went into the ground. I expect them oh – ’round about mid to late June along with the favas – which are like unzipping the dress of a rotund opera singer that specializes in Wagner at midnight.
According to my calculations, you have 16% of your vitamin A left to go. Quit slacking and get unzipping.
Ours are just germinating now (we have this thing called Winter that you may have heard of.) Other things are farther along. It’s exciting.
Finspot: You can overwinter sugar peas in that climate — they might die, or they might give you sugar peas in late April or the beginning of May. Depends on how severe that particular winter was. The price for this tasty game of Russian roulette? A packet of seeds.
Buzzie: I am still laughing at that fava reference! I suspect I will steal it in a few weeks when the favas come due.
Peter: I know, I know. OK, I got my extra 16 percent! Winter? I seem to remember it, but I’ve mostly blocked out my memories of those chilly years I spent in Wisconsin and Minnesota…
I think I need to get off my duff and plant something that will actually survive the blast furnace that is my balcony. Either that or sell the dang house in Portland and buy one here in Santa Barbara so I can have a garden and get sweet peas even earlier than you, Hank!
Bitches, I was moving, hence the lack of peeps. And as for baklava, you’ll get some next week assuming I don’t snarf the whole fucking pan.
Oh You are lucky, Hank. Peas wouldn’t overwinter in the UK. We have to wait until July for ours.
We grow sungold tomatoes. Delicious!
The great thing about seasonal food — and its writing — is if you wait long enough it comes ’round again. Bought 2 bags at Lodi farm stand, handfuls driving home. Is it littering to throw the stringy end out car window on a rural road?