When I make Greek fava at home, I do something annoying. As I dip my spoon in to check that it is done, I often take a bite, then another, then another, staring off into the distance at the stove. I stop only when my wife, patiently awaiting dinner, notices and says, “Now you’re just eating it!” It happens every time. And I make fava a lot.

The first thing to know about Greek fava is that it is impossible to stop eating it. The second is that this fava has nothing to do with fava beans. “Fava is a misnomer,” said Nikos Tsepetis, the food-focused owner of the Ammos Hotel and Red Jane bakery in Crete. And he is right. At least in English. While the Greek name of this delightful meze is confusing to Anglophones, the English translation is yellow split peas, which is kind of drab. The dish itself is anything but.

Part of the local diet for millennia, fava, which refers both to the split peas and to the meze, is a pastel golden swirl of the pureed savory pulse, with sweetness from melted onion, depth from floral bay leaf, and flashes of bright contrast from the lemon, capers and red onion that often anoint it. Copious amounts of olive oil (a lake, Tsepetis said) ensure a smooth texture and rich flavor. When I first visited Greece a handful of years ago, I could not understand why I never heard of fava before, or why it was not more known in the United States.

“I think maybe it is a bit of an underdog,” said Diane Kochilas, the Greek American cookbook author and television host who runs a cooking school on the island of Ikaria, told me on a call. “I love this dish because it is a great example of a really ancient food that is still relevant in modern Greek cooking,” she added. Kochilas teaches fava in her classes, and her students, none of whom knew the dish before, fall in love. “They are really startled by it in a good way,” she said, “It is really easy, it is very elegant, yet also rustic and earthy, so it has a lot of good things going for it.”

There are myriad ways to serve fava apart from sliced or chopped red onion, capers, lemon and olive oil, though this is how it is done at Cafe Avissinia, the popular Athens taverna open since 1985, whose dreamy version got me hooked. “It is a family recipe of three generations,” said Nicholas Touros, who took over from its founder, his mother, Ketty Koufonikola Touros. “I’m sure it is even older, but that is what we know.”

The Avissinia recipe handily, albeit folksily, codified in an English-language cookbook (i.e. “one teacup fava” and “two teacups water”) is what I used as a guide when I started preparing the dish at home. Split peas are brought to a boil and then simmered with chopped onion, lots of olive oil, a bay leaf and salt, until all of the liquid is absorbed.

Other than intermittent stirring to prevent sticking (and it may still stick a bit anyway), there is not much else to it. Once the peas have mostly broken down, the cook faces a choice. “Some people like it a bit more country-style, and they just press it with a fork,” said Touros, but at Avissinia, “We do help it a bit with a blender.”

The fabulous fava at Ammos Hotel is blended and comes with the same toppings, plus fresh parsley and sliced radish. Kochilas recommends using an immersion blender and serving it with seafood, braised mushrooms or eggplant and pantremeni, or “married,” as they do in Santorini, with tomatoes and capers cooked quickly into a sort of relish.

The fava grown in Santorini is coveted, since its faintly sweet flavor said to be a product of the local volcanic soil. And there is evidence from the archaeological site Akrotiri that fava has been eaten there since antiquity. But these days, it can be difficult or expensive to get. “It makes a lot more sense for people on Santorini to turn their land into hotel space,” Kochilas explained. Luckily, the island is not the only producer. Greek fava is produced in Feneos in the Peloponnese, on the islands of Limnos and Schinoussa, and in northern Greece, among other places.

American home cooks have a few options when it comes to sourcing ingredients. While Greek markets often carry imported fava, everyday yellow split peas work just as well. And the dish is very forgiving. “Everybody loves fava, and in my opinion, it is difficult to make it wrong,” said Tsepetis. “It is easy peasy.”

Greek Fava

4 to 5 servings (makes 2 1/2 cups)

Active time: 25 mins; Total time: 1 hour 10 mins

Greek fava is a versatile yellow split pea spread whose simplicity belies a beguiling depth of flavor. It’s a staple of tavernas in the country. Greek yellow split peas – which are smaller and more delicate than conventional yellow split peas – are easy to get from Greek markets or online, but everyday yellow split peas work just as well, they just take longer to cook. (How much longer depends on several factors, including their age and provenance.)

While fava is most commonly enjoyed as part of a meze spread, it’s also a wonderful side dish for seafood or braised vegetable dishes. When served as an appetizer, the most common toppings are red onion, capers, lemon and olive oil, but Greeks aren’t precious about fava, and you can use anything you like.

Where to buy: Bay leaves are widely available in supermarkets and smaller grocery stores, however, Daphnis and Chloe brand, available online and at specialty shops, are especially fragrant ones. Greek yellow split peas can be found at Greek or Mediterranean markets and online from purveyors such as Titan Foods (titanfoods.com).

Storage: Refrigerate in an airtight container for up to 4 days.

Notes: If you have leftover fava, it can be diluted with vegetable or chicken broth (or water) and turned into soup, mixed with flour and griddled to make patties, or eaten cold out of the fridge with crackers.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup (7 1/2 ounces) yellow split peas, preferably Greek

2 cups water

1 medium yellow onion (8 ounces), roughly chopped

1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon olive oil, divided, plus more as needed

1 bay leaf (see Where to buy)

Fine salt

capers, thinly sliced red onion, lemon wedges and crusty sliced bread, for serving

DIRECTIONS

In a colander or strainer, rinse the split peas, then transfer to a small, heavy-bottomed pot. Add the water, set over high heat and bring to a boil. Skim the white scum that rises to the top and, once at a boil, reduce the heat so the water is at a simmer.

Add the onion, 1/2 cup of the olive oil and the bay leaf. Lightly season with salt, cover and simmer, stirring frequently to prevent sticking, until all of the liquid is absorbed and the peas have mostly broken down, about 30 minutes for Greek yellow split peas and up to 1 hour and 15 minutes for everyday yellow split peas (start checking around 40-minute mark) The mixture should be the consistency of cake batter, with some peas holding their shape.

Remove and discard the bay leaf. Taste the peas and season with more salt, if desired, then transfer the mixture to a blender or food processor, add the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil and process until the mixture has the texture of smooth hummus. (You can also use an immersion blender, but the texture won’t be as smooth.)

Transfer to individual shallow bowls and top with capers, sliced red onion and lemon wedges, for squeezing over. Drizzle with more olive oil and serve, with crusty bread.

Nutrition per serving (1/2 cup), based on 5: 321 calories, 27g carbohydrates, 0mg cholesterol, 24g fat, 10g fiber, 9g protein, 3g saturated fat, 77mg sodium, 4g sugar

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