Italian spring time vegetable stew: scafatta

When I was growing up, we ate a lot of somewhat creative mixes of vegetables. Nana would frequently toss things together, cook them until they were soft and then put them on the plate, sometimes with meat, sometimes with bread, and sometimes just as they were. I remember her calling it something like "Jombott" Later, I learned that this was dialect for ciambotta. It was not unlike ratatouille, but there was no eggplant in it. Potatoes would find their way into the stew, as would onions, peppers, and just about anything else. I learned, later on, that there were as many variations on this dish as there were Italian grandmothers. Everyone made it differently, and it was, at its heart, a truly southern Italian dish, made from the vegetables that you really do associate with southern Italy: tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant (never in Nana's), potatoes, and everything else. Very filling, very nutritious, it was and is, really, a dish out of necessity: if you don't have enough zucchini to make zucchini, and you don't have enough potatoes to make potatoes, combine them. We always loved it.

But there was another stew, that we didn't have all that often. I remember that one being pronounced as something like 'shkavatt" (sounds Russian, doesn't it?). I thought about this the other night because Patti Jackson (an Italian name for ya if there ever was one), at her underrated restaurant "Centovini," was serving "scaffatta" as a side dish with some of the entrees. AH. It all came back to me. "shkavatt" was for rich people, it was "northern stew," and it was "spring stew." Indeed, the veggies in scaffatta, which can vary, are those that you associate with spring. Classically roman, it's got the "holy trio" of Roman vegetables in it: artichokes, fava beans, and green peas, all of which are in season at the same time in Rome. Butter and oil go into it, and the vegetables, which are boiled first, are then braised in the fat until they take on a brown tinge. You lose the bright green color of the peas, and if you can get by that, you get a level of flavor that you don't find in regular peas. It's a tough call, but once in a while, it's great.
Except... here in NY, artichokes and peas are NEVER in season at the same time. We get our artichokes late. You can get favas and peas at the same time, but you don't have that "bulky" vegetable, the artichoke,until the fall.
Stews of this type are, by their nature, improvs. So when the peas and local favas come in, I'll be using zucchini instead of artichokes. For now, I have artichokes from our trip to california. And fava beans. Third vegetable stumped me for a bit, until.... Asparagus. Now, this takes a bit of planning, because while artichokes and favas can take some serious long cooking, asparagus can't. Not unless you want the most disgusting vegetable you can imagine. So heed the timings, ragazzi e ragazze. This is good. It's good for you. And it's a lot of work.

First, we have to address the artichoke question. Nature's answer to people who don't have enough to do. Get a dozen small, or a half dozen big, artichokes. Pull away all of the tough leaves, and when you're down to the tender ones, cut the leaves away, leaving the heart. If the artichokes are small, cut them in half. If big, quarters. Cover them with salted water, squeeze in half a lemon, and simmer them until a knife can enter, with a bit of resistance.

Prep the fava beans. Nature's other answer to people who don't have enough to do. Get the beans out of the pods, and then drop them into a second pot of boiling salted water, for about five minutes. Drain them, and put them into ice water and let them cool. Then peel the skins away. Prepare to have aching fingernails. For the amount of artichokes above, plan on two pounds of fava beans.

Now, slice up a small onion, and cook it in a mix of half butter, and half olive oil. When it begins to soften, add some salt, and then the artichokes and favas. Stir them to coat them with the fat. Turn down the heat and add about a quarter cup of water, and cook slowly, while you prep the asparagus.
Here, you need about a half pound or so of medium thickness asparagus. Snap them to remove the tough end (use that for stock), and then cut the tender part into one inch pieces. Keep them aside, and cook the favas and artichokes until they are really tender. This could take a while, or it could be over really quickly. When they get to the point of tenderness, add the asparagus, and take the pot off of the heat. The asparagus will cook enough from the heat to be fine. Taste and correct the salt. If you like, this is good with a little diced lemon peel in it, but you don't have to add that.

This is one of those versatile dishes where, if you felt so inclined, you could put some raw shrimp on top of it, and they would cook through. You might also work some cooked chicken into it (and as I think about it, there's some left over roast chicken in the fridge. Hmmmm). You should let your imagination flow here. DO try to follow the "rule" of three vegetables.

Incidentally, you can also puree these vegetables with some stock and make an incredible soup. There is a Roman version of it, and the name escapes me, but this is spring time tonic at its best.

GO play with your food! Annalena so commands!!!!!