Fresh

Historically speaking, I have always hated peas. In company I will
swallow whatever ends up on my fork, but in private I have no trouble
dedicating whatever time it takes to pry little green pellets out of a
frozen dinner before I put it in the microwave.

So snow peas
[mange-tout] were an abject lesson in "never say never"  for me, and
the first sugar snap pea was an even more embarrassing crow-eating
event.They are both divine. Who knew?

When snow peas were
suddenly available only in little plastic envelopes shipped all the way
from China, I stopped buying them. Sad. And incomprehensible. Snow peas
are so easy to grow, why don't we have local ones?

In protest I
planted my own this summer, both snow peas and sugar snaps. And on the
why-stop-there principle, I also planted spinach (yum, green teeth),
scarlet runner beans, carrots, tomatoes and zucchini. My luck ran out
after the beans, but never mind.

With
very little effort of my own, I had vegetables. Sweet, tender, spinach
– enough to share with friends. Beans big enough to hold up a tent. And
oh my gawd the peas. On my knees, religious experience, this is what
we're supposed to be eating, peas. Humbling, move me to say thank you
to the pea vines, peas.There is only one word I can think of to
describe how they actually tasted– fresh.

I'd take a picture, but I've eaten them all.