Recipe: petits pois à la française and petits pois à l’anglaise

In 1985, when FT Weekend was born, I was the head chef of a French restaurant in the City of London called Le Poulbot. Bowler hats had become quite rare but it was still a world populated by stockbrokers, jobbers and traders who sold commodities rather than money. The Big Bang happened the next year and I left the City shortly afterwards. If the financial world was conservatively structured, so too was the gastronomic one and that structure was French. If it might have been predicted that the French dominance of the upper reaches of gastronomy was in decline, it would have been harder to predict that the new influences would be coming from Barcelona or Copenhagen.

Petits pois à la française and petits pois à l’anglaise

Scroll down for method and ingredients

Serves six

French cuisine, in London at any rate, has become another ethnicity. Whereas I, an English cook in a French restaurant, was then writing my menu in questionable French, chefs of the calibre of Philip Howard at the Square and Claude Bosi at Hibiscus write their menus in English, even if their cooking is rooted in French haute cuisine.

Back in 1985, one could already see the cracks appearing in the grand edifice of haute cuisine. Nouvelle cuisine had appeared to reinvigorate French cooking. But it also served to undermine it. With an emphasis on lighter, leaner food, on colour and prettiness, French cuisine began to abstract itself from its roots and from the notion that the land sustains the people. This movement has continued to this day, with food in the west being ever more divorced from regional traditions and with consumption becoming a leisure activity rather than a matter of sustenance.

The manager of Le Poulbot, an old-school style of maître d’, invited me to lunch one weekend. He served roast pigeon with tinned peas. Once I got over my initial shock, I had to admit they were very good. It was a revelation that peas did not have to be bright green. I have occasionally eaten them since and frozen peas are always in my freezer for home suppers, soups and purées. However, these conveniences never dilute or detract from the pleasure, nay excitement, to be had from a bag of fresh peas. I make them into the gorgeously soupy risotto that is risi e bisi, or braise them à la française. In restaurants these days, chefs try to serve them bright green, often peeling each pea in the attempt, thus missing the point of the dish. Last year, I was given roast pigeon with proper petits pois à la française. I cannot describe the joy when, after we had licked our plates clean, we were offered seconds of peas.

rowley.leigh@ft.com

Petits pois à la française

Technically, this is petits pois au lard, the bacon not being a traditional component of the dish although very common now: those so inclined are free to omit it. Wonderful with duck, squab pigeon, lamb or simply on their own. Serves about six.

1. Cut the bacon into small lardons and stew gently in half the butter so that it begins to crisp and renders much of its fat. Trim the onions to thumb length (save the tops for salad or soup) and split in half if very fat. Add them to the lardons in the pan and then add the shredded lettuce. Stew briefly before adding the shelled peas.
2. Add mint, a pinch of sugar if the peas are not extremely petit, and a pinch of salt. Add the wine and let the peas stew for 30 minutes. By then the liquid should be almost completely evaporated, the peas should have lost their bright green colour but should have swelled and be tender. Add remaining butter and swirl the pan to coat the peas with juice. Serve immediately, with croutons if desired.

Petits pois à l’anglaise

A l’anglaise is usually an insult in French cookery but this is not. With really small fresh peas, there is no better way to cook them and this is especially good with roast duck. Not to be found in any restaurant I know of.

1. Drop the shelled peas into a pot of well-salted water.
2. Cook on a gentle boil until the peas are tender — often a little longer than might be thought, about five minutes — and then drain and serve in a bowl with little pats of butter distributed on top.

Rowley’s drinking choice

Just about anything will enjoy the company of peas. In light of FT Weekend’s anniversary, a glass of vintage champagne may well be in order.

Photograph: Andy Sewell