Literary Legumes

If I can’t have Paris, I’ll always have split pea soup.

I have been totally rockin’ the pois cassés this winter. Let me tell you, SPS is pretty much everything you want in a meal: hearty, nutritious, cheap. And my kids eat it without complaint. It’s been a favorite of mine since childhood when we called it robber soup. The name came from my favorite Richard Scarry storybook, which featured Pierre the Paris Detective who catches a crook hiding in a pot of soup in a Parisian bistro. It’s never explicitly indicated that the soup in question is in fact split pea. But it’s definitely green, and my family decided early on that it couldn’t be anything else. I should note that I find Richard Scarry and split pea soup incredibly comforting and evocative (my late father was a big fan of both). Then there’s the Paris thing. When I read the story as a kid, of course, I had no idea I’d wind up living in and falling in love with that city. My first encounter with destiny? Hmmm…Anyway, I recently rediscovered the book and am overjoyed to introduce Pierre and all the other wonderful characters to my people.

When I was growing up in the 70s, we always just heated up split pea soup from a can. Being a whole foods mama, I try to avoid canned soup with all the sodium and questionable ingredients. Plus they’re now telling us there’s BPA (the bane of 21st century parents) in the lining of aluminum cans. Anyway, it’s pretty easy to make--you just have to do a little chopping. The recipe I use happens to be vegan, and I think it’s delicious. (Although the Ever Lovin’ keeps telling me it’s crying out for some ham.) It has barley in it, which I love. I substitute veggie stock for half the water to make it a little richer. I also find that soaking the peas overnight makes them more tender.

I always though split peas were somehow special--you know, different from other peas. But it turns out they are just good old pisum sativum cut in half and dried. And why, you may ask, are they split. As it turns out, it simply makes them easier to cook.

While I’m on the subject, here’s a little nursery rhyme, another favorite of my dad’s:

Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold,
Pease porridge in the pot, nine days old;
Some like it hot, some like it cold,
Some like it in the pot, nine days old