Broad Beans in Fermented Broad Bean Paste (Doubanjiang)

I've found a latest obsession-- podding peas. It's the most therapeutic mindless fun one can have in the kitchen. Hold a fat green pod in between your fingers, squeeze it with just the right amount of pressure to make it gently pop open, and hold your breath as the inside is revealed: a row of smooth green pearls, or, a disappointing couple of lone under-formed ones? Celebrate/moan, and go on to the next one. And the next. And the next.

My roommate was getting a little worried, so just to change things up a little, I got broad beans at the farmer's market last Saturday. It might sound funny to most people, especially if you grew up here, but I've never had a fresh broad bean before.To be frank, I didn't really like it. It looked very promisingly like a paler, larger version of the pea, but had none of its sweetness. I've seen people shoving bags of them into their shopping baskets, so perhaps, its bitterness is an acquired taste, kind of like sashimi was to me at first, but right then, I sorely missed my peas.

I have, however, had (and love) broad bean in its fermented form, reborn as dou ban jiang, the powerful paste dubbed the soul of Sichuan cuisine. It's entirely reborn if you ask me, spicy, salty and wonderfully aromatic.  If I'm drawing a blank, it's the key ingredient in mapo tofu, in "zha jiang mien", in "fish fragrant eggplant", in "ants climbing the tree" (don't you just love all these translations), and all manners of southern chinese dishes. You can find it in most Asian grocery stores, where it's named hot bean paste or chilli bean paste.* I was inspired to marry the two together, some sort of warped romantic combination that allowed the broad bean to shine in its various forms.

DOUBANJIANG BROAD BEANS

Ingredients

1 bag of broad beans, in pods (about 2 large handfuls worth once podded)

1 shallot, thinly sliced
1 heaped tbsp of doubanjiang*
1/4 cup of water
1 tsp unrefined cane sugar
unrefined sea salt, to taste
1 tbsp groundnut oil/ fat for cooking (I use lard from happy pigs. I prefer saturated fats for high heat cooking.)

To finish,
dash of chinese black vinegar
chopped fresh coriander

Method

1. Pod the broad beans, then blanch in boiling water for 2-3 min. The skin, which can be tougher and leathery especially if the broad beans are the bigger ones, will slip off easily. If you have smaller tender ones, just do this anyway as it helps rid the bitter taste.
2. In a wok, heat up oil/fat. When hot, add the doubanjiang, frying for a few seconds to release its fragrance. Add the sliced shallots and continue to stir fry for half a min or so, before adding the broad beans.
3. Add the water along with salt and sugar, bring everything to a boil, and let simmer for a few minutes for the flavours to absorb. When sauce is almost dry, add a dash of chinese black vinegar, and check for seasoning.
4. Finish with a sprinkling of chopped fresh coriander, serve hot with plain rice as this dish packs a punch.

*A good one should only contain chillies, broad (fava) beans, salt, and flour. For Londoners, I get mine from Chinatown, the one that says "pixian dou ban" (Pixian being the county in Sichuan where the recipe originated). Get the one in a packet, the one in the jar form contain MSG and other unwelcome additives, same goes for the Lee Kum Kee one. 

The quick toss in the wok added just a bit of smokiness while keeping everything fresh, tender and crunchy. Most important of all, the bitterness of the broad bean mellows with cooking, so there's just a light hint of it remaining, not enough to make you cringe and stick your tongue out, but just enough to work against the intensity of the pungent dou ban jiang. A happy marriage. I might even get those broad beans over the peas again this Saturday.