Sure Sign of Spring

I see robins in the yards, the sun setting later and later each day, and geese flying north but, to me, one of the surest signs of spring is the appearance of English peas in the market.

My friend and mentor, Dr. Ron Dilcher, told me stories of pranks in western New York when he and his pals in a convertible would snag with a rake pea vines off the loaded trucks rumbling toward the cannery, then speed away to relish their plunder under a nearby tree. Spring highjinks. He won't see this spring; he died last winter, but I will think of him every spring when peas come into the markets again.

I love the little *pop* the pod makes when it opens and the orderly line of bright green heads inside the even brighter green pod - always reminds me of bobsledders. As I stand at the kitchen counter shelling peas, My Beloved snags a few to eat raw and even Cora gets into the act when a stray pea vaults onto the kitchen floor - she is on it in a flash and gobbles it down, then flattens her ears into her apology look, glancing at me out of the corners of her eyes.

This time, all we did was steam them until they developed slight wrinkles on the outer skin but were still brilliant green. No embellishment is necessary when food is this fresh and spring is this new.