When we got home from a day in Rome, Georgia, a quick walk in the garden-yard revealed the need to harvest peas. While Ardis sat on the front steps trying to explain to us that she did not need socks and shoes on her feet to be outside*, Jesse and I walked the length of the fence with me on the outside picking the little fatties and him on the inside helping me find the ones the fence slats were preventing me from seeing. The peas had chosen to grow on the outside of the "chicken wire" we had lining the inside of the fence for them to grow on. Can peas be passive-aggressive? We left the yarden (hee. like that?) when all the ready peas had been safely put into the hammock of Jesse's shirt.
Once inside, we crowded around the table to shell the peas. Ardis couldn't snap the ends off of the peas, but she could press the seams to pop the pod open, which she did with zest and a twinkle in her eye. Shelling the peas took about 15 minutes. We ended up with an entire cup of freshly shelled peas. We would have had more, but Ardis ate more than she actually shelled. She snacked on the peas the entire time we were working, doing a little booty-shaking-dance in her chair with each pea she ate.
We chose to make pasta to go with the peas. Once the pasta was "done," I threw the peas in the hot water and counted to 30. I, then, drained the pasta and peas. The peas had been nicely blanched and were still crispy and fresh. We fixed Ardis a bowl full with a little butter and Parmesan. The rest of the pasta we tossed with a small amount of an "Italian" seasoned mayo (mayo, a little mustard, basil, garlic powder, oregano, thyme, a pinch of sage, onion salt, and Parmesan). We ate it warm with chicken salad sandwiches. It was wonderful.
* I'd like to clarify that Ardis was sitting on the steps explaining to us that she didn't need socks and shoes in the yard because she'd chosen to take hers off in the yard after being told it wasn't a choice. Our front yard is where our dogs spend their day, and while we keep it as neat as possible, I'd prefer there be no "barefoot-stepped-in-something" surprises. As a toddler that is capable of putting on her shoes, we'd asked her to sit down and put on her shoes. She choose to spend her time lecturing us on why she doesn't need shoes in the yard and attempting to sit on a ceramic turtle that was much too small for her body.