Spring's first green thing, bashed with a spoon and the good oil.
Late March in Argyll and the woodland floors go wild with garlic — the sort that makes your fingers smell honest. I bash it with fresh peas (frozen from last summer is just fine; fresh if you've got them early), good oil, and a scattering of toasted oats for crunch. It's what I eat standing at the kitchen counter before anything else gets made.
Scatter the oats on a dry pan over medium heat. Watch them — they'll go from pale to golden in about 3 minutes. You want them nutty, fragrant, not burnt. Tip into a bowl and let cool.
Boil a small pot of salted water. Drop the peas in and give them 3 minutes if fresh, 2 if frozen. They should still have snap. Drain and tip into a wide bowl.
Add the chopped wild garlic to the warm peas. Mash it all together — you're not making a purée, just breaking things down so the leaves wilt into the peas. You want texture, lumps, life.
Pour in the olive oil in a slow stream, folding it through as you go. Squeeze the lemon juice over, then grate the Parmesan if using. Taste. Adjust salt and pepper — this is your moment to get it right.
Spoon onto warm plates. Scatter the toasted oats over the top. Finish with a whisper more oil and a crack of pepper. Eat warm, while the peas still have warmth in them.
“Spoon the pea smash onto warm plates — don't fuss it into a circle, just let it sit there honest and green. Scatter the toasted oats across the top so they don't get soggy. A final glug of good oil around the plate, a crack of pepper, maybe a spring of wild garlic leaf if you've got one left. The idea is for someone to look at it and think 'that's proper spring', not 'I'm paying for this'.”
First spoonful: sweet peas, then the wild garlic opens up — garlicky but green, not harsh. The oats give you crunch, the oil brings it all together silky, the lemon keeps it bright. By the last spoonful you're already thinking about bread to soak up what's left on the plate.
Drop the Parmesan and use the same weight in nutritional yeast instead — it gives you that savoury umami without the dairy. Everything else stays the same. You'll lose nothing but the lactose. In fact, some might argue it's even brighter.
Sharp, mineral, doesn't muscle in on the garlic — lets it breathe.
The bitterness talks to the garlic. An Islay or mainland Scottish brewery pour works.
Keep it simple — let the food do the work.
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