On Peas and the Tiny Nature

I want to extol the virtues of frozen baby peas. They are perfect, wonderful with rice, laced with a bit of lemon and parsley, or better yet -- cilantro.

I think I could eat peas every day.

The tinier the better. Isn't it interesting how in the world of food, diminutive is better. We in America extol the virutes of the Idaho Potato -- huge and oblong, but in Sweden the tiny red potatis are boiled and then peeled individually at the plate: an upside down fork in the globe, then -- index finger and thumb grasping the blade of a butter knife, and you gently peel off the skins. They call those huge Russets favored here gris potatis (pig potatoes).

In Thailand, the garlic is smaller and overwhelmingly flavorful and piquant, the basil stumpy and fragrently purple, the mouse shit chilis ovewhelming and wildly hot. The heat in that region doesn't afford waste: the plant is big enough, and the esters that we call flavor are off the charts-- the better to protect against the sun and the insects.

In cooking, grand is often muddled, while petite delivers the difference in flavor that makes for lacivious eating.