No matter how much I love Christmas, with all its anticipatory magic, Easter has always been my favorite holiday. My memories of Easter in Mississippi take me back to some of the happiest days of my childhood, hunting eggs in my grandmother's garden with a pack of cousins - and competing fiercely in the search for the golden egg, in which my grandfather would tuck a $100 bill, a vast sum in the early 1970s.
Mostly those memories are set on our family picnic ground at "Hollyknowe" - a grassy knoll on the banks of the Bogue Phalia in the middle of a wheat field farmed by my grandfather, my father and uncle. Just after church, we would gather there in our Easter finery, my cousins in the most gorgeous smocked dresses their mother would sew by hand, my sister and me in dresses chosen by us at our other grandfather's department store. Upon arrival, we were allowed to take off our white buckle shoes and socks and run around barefoot with our one boy cousin, who was my most cherished sidekick. My grandmother and mother and aunts would lay out the picnic lunch on long tables covered in pretty tablecloths. Deviled eggs, fried chicken, baked ham, potato salad, all manner of cakes and cookies and sweets. And the favorite of all: my grandfather's famous frijoles beans, a recipe he picked up on yearly vacations in San Miguel de Allende. For some reason, he only cooked them at Easter.
The grown ups sat in folding chairs, my grandmother presiding over the conversation, (and often commenting to her daughter - sotto voce - on the picnic offerings the daughter-in laws had brought to the table. Once my mother was shamed for bringing Helman's mayonnaise instead of making the stuff herself.)
I was blithely oblivious to the currents of family drama running below the surface. I just had fun.
One dish missing from the picnic spread - that none of us remarked at all - was something green. My grandmother had an asparagus patch, and there were always a few blanched asparagus on offer. But in those days, no one thought to bring a crudité platter or a big kale salad. So for my own Easter menu this year, I'll be serving all the culinary delights of those long-ago picnics, but adding my sister's delicious, lemony fresh English pea salad with mint and feta. The recipe follows.
Ingredients
- 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
- 3 tablespoons white wine vinegar
- 1 to 2 tablespoons coarsely ground mustard
- 1 teaspoon sugar
- Salt and pepper, to taste
- 1 cup snow pea pods, trimmed
- 1 cup sugar snap pea pods, strings removed
- 1 cup shelled English peas, fresh or frozen
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1/2 cup thinly sliced shallots
- 1 cup pea shoots (optional)
- 1/2 cup arugula leaves (left whole if small, or chiffonade)
- 1/4 cup toasted pistachios
- 2 to 3 tablespoons mint leaves
- 1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
Instructions
Combine extra virgin olive oil, vinegar, mustard, sugar, salt and pepper in a small bowl.
Blanch snow pea pods, sugar snap pea pods and English peas in salted, boiling water until they turn bright green and are just tender-crunchy, about 3 minutes. Refresh in cold water and drain. You may cut sugar peas in half on a long diagonal or leave whole.
Heat olive oil over medium heat in a saucepan and sauté shallots until just tender; let cool.
Transfer peas along with pea shoots to a large mixing bowl and toss with shallots, arugula, pistachios, mint and any of the other fun additions recommended below.
Add enough vinaigrette to coat well. Serve topped with feta cheese.
