It’s time we shared our snow pea stories. I’ll go first.
We were the first group of small huts in the neighborhood, living the good life, finally not following the seasons all the time because we were learning to raise vegetables and animals and stay put. Cool, huh? And my main job was to make sure the two elders ate as many snow peas as possible. They loved their snow peas.
Our summers were mild enough that I grew them almost all year. They were easy and dependable, and, since we were so isolated, these were the only source of their own seeds that we knew of. No pressure on me! So, I did my best until I slipped on a wet rock down by the river and floated away.
But many years after that, I was in Egypt and times had changed. So many people in one place and the huts were way better. Believe it or not, my job was taking care of the snow peas at the south end of the Queen’s garden. I grew them in a shady spot by a lagoon where only infrequently did I encounter a crocodile. I had better seeds then, and more varieties. I still planted them the same way and erected the same kind of trellis, but these peas grew higher than my Stone Age peas.
The gardener tending to the melons told me she heard that some of my seed had come from caravans from southern Asia. I didn’t know where that was, but I liked the different varieties. Besides the usual green ones, some of the pods were yellow or purple, and a there was a variety with long tendrils that were tasty. Egypt was being really good to me until I slipped on a wet rock down by the river and floated away.
But after that, I was in France, and times had changed. We had more houses and chateaus and such, far fewer huts, and even those were better. The carriages were fancier, but a dirt road is still a dirt road.
I found that interest in snow peas and peas in general had declined over the past few hundred years, but Louis XIV was driving by one day and his wheel fell off. While I helped his folks fix it, he ambled about and noticed my garden. He helped himself to a few snow peas, got a gleam in his eye, strode imperially back to his carriage and declared I was the new Royal Snow Pea Grower, and it was my job to plant snow peas all over his realm. No pressure on me!
But, yes, I was the one who sparked the renaissance of interest in snow peas in the early 18th century. I also branched out into peas with a tougher pod grown for just the peas inside, and they were a hit. Everybody was growing those things. It’s ironic they are now called English peas.
Working for Fancy Lou was a blast. I moved closer to his palace, and he would drop by for dinner sometimes. Usually, I prepared snow peas with just garlic, black pepper and olive oil but occasionally with chopped almonds or radish slices. One night he brought me a bag of lemons from Portugal. Not only did we add fresh lemon juice to the recipe, for some reason we also added minced peppermint leaves which was a little bit weird, but Lou also brought red wine, so we laughed about everything as we ate our snow peas.
I spread the word about peas throughout the land until one day I slipped on a wet rock down by the river etc. etc.
Now, I am growing snow peas in Arkansas. The climate is too extreme to grow them all year. I plant them as soon as the frosts are over in spring and harvest in May and June until it gets too hot. I plant them again in August and harvest them in autumn until the frost kills them. I still plant them the same way and create the same trellises. Some things never change.
That’s my snow pea story. Your turn.