Fava Bean Curry

It’s been awhile, but I’m not going to apologize: I like to think of those of you who are out there, mostly silent but sometimes appearing out of cyberspace with words of wisdom and encouragement, as the sorts of friends you don’t have to apologize to when you disappear off the face of the earth for a few days, like I have.

It’s the end of the semester–exams, a thesis looming, not to mention planning to do for my whirlwhind summer of travel… it seems as though all of my summers are quite whirly, as of the past five years or so, not that I’m complaining.

All this to say, thanks for hanging around, and I hope you don’t mind that sometimes I fall off the face of the Earth. I hope that when I pop back into your lives, you’ll treat me the way the English One does–my best friend, university partner-in-crime and in drinking, who sometimes lets me disappear for weeks at a time, only to pop back in when the stress is swept to the side and I have a moment to say hello. And he never lets me apologize for disappearing.

Last night, after a few days of only quick “his” and “byes” on Facebook chat amidst work and school and a visit from one of my dearest friends from Cannes and her husband, the English One phoned me up out of the blue for no reason at all, just to chat. I generally hate the phone, but he’s one of those people who lets you feel as though you’re both just sitting in the same room, chatting idly, instead of constantly combing your brain for new topics of conversation and things to say.

He’s one of those friends that makes me think of that quote that’s very rarely properly attributed to Mary Schmich (I’ve heard Baz Luhrmann, J.D. Salinger and Kurt Vonnegut): “the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.” The English One is one of the people I knew when I was young–or younger than I am today–and who has stuck with me all the way. Sometimes, I need him to remind me how little the “really important” things of today will mean to me five years from now, because he knows how little the “really important” things of five years ago mean today.

I feel, then, that it’s appropriate to offer you a dish that reminds me of him, not only because it is Indian in inspiration, but also because it’s “English-One-friendly,” my term for dishes I make that are vegetarian and don’t have eggplant or mushrooms in them, two ingredients he hates. I admit to using dried fava beans when I made this, but fresh favas are out now, and you should by all means take advantage, if you can.

Fava Bean Curry

250 g. dried fava beans
2 tsp. vegetable oil
1 onion, thinly sliced
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. turmeric
2 tsp. curry powder
100 g. pineapple
1/2 cup plain yogurt
1 lime

Prepare your dried or fresh fava beans by soaking, pre-cooking and peeling them. Cooking time will vary according to the kind of favas used: for dried, soak overnight, then cook for about two hours in boiling water. Drain, peel and use.

Heat the vegetable oil over medium heat in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, and add the onion. Add the salt and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is slightly browned, about 15 minutes.

Add the cumin, turmeric and curry powder, and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the shelled fava beans and 1/2 cup of water, and bring to a simmer, stirring to loosen any onion or spice stuck to the bottom of the pan.

Finely mince the pineapple and add to the dish. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the curry has thickened.

Remove from the heat and serve with yogurt and lime.