Fava bean pasta, the one you’re sleeping on

Think of this as gricia’s spring fling—crispy guanciale, salty pecorino, and fava beans sliding into the DMs.

Add whipped ricotta and now it’s creamy, but still light and fresh.
No guanciale? Pancetta will do. Don’t stress.

Fava are a bit of a project, but I like ’em. I buy mine fresh at Birri at Jean Talon Market.

Pop ’em out of the pods, blanch for a minute, shock in ice water, then peel.
Some people use a knife. I use my nails. Do you.

If you’ve got extra, throw them in a salad, risotto, or go Roman-style like my girl Marcella Hazan—warm with olive oil, pancetta, onion.
Or make macco: a humble bean mash from the south. It hits.

MACCO DI FAVE

• 400–450g fava beans, prepped

• 3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• 1 yellow onion, chopped

• 1 garlic clove, unpeeled

• Salt and black pepper

• 6–7 small fennel fronds, chopped

Cook onion and garlic in olive oil until soft. Add fava, salt, pepper, and just enough water to barely cover. Simmer low until buttery soft. Remove garlic, mash into a rustic purée. Finish with a fat drizzle of olive oil and fennel fronds. Optional chili, rosemary, or fennel seeds—your call, fam.

Anyway, maybe you don’t feel like doing all this labour for beans, and that’s your loss.

Em

FOR 2

• 250g fresh nodi marini (or any short pasta you fuck with)

• 70–80g guanciale, julienne

• About 150g fava beans, blanched and peeled (about 35-40 pods)

• 1-2 tbsp whipped ricotta

• Pecorino romano, finely grated

• Lemon zest

• Fresh basil

• Salt

• Black pepper

HOW

1. Start by whipping your ricotta. Throw it in a food processor and blitz until glossy and thick—don’t overdo it or it’ll split and get loose again.

2. Slice the guanciale into julienne and toss it into a cold pan. Turn the heat to medium and slowly render. You want it crispy around the edges but still soft and juicy in the middle.

3. Meanwhile, boil a big pot of salted water and drop in your pasta. Cook until al dente.

4. Right before the pasta’s ready, add the blanched fava beans to the pan with the guanciale fat. Just warm them—you don’t want them to go mushy.

5. Toss your cooked pasta straight into the pan with a splash of pasta water.

   Add the whipped ricotta and grated pecorino, and stir like you mean it—you’re emulsifying everything into a light, creamy sauce.

6. Season with black pepper and a pinch of salt (but go easy—guanciale and pecorino already bring the salt).

7. Plate it up. Finish with lemon zest and a few fresh basil leaves.

WORD

• Fresh pasta loves lots of water—don’t skimp on the pot size.

• Don’t overwhip the ricotta—stop when it’s glossy and thick, before it splits.

• You can swap nodi marini for any short pasta you fuck with.

• Like I said, if you don’t have guanciale, use pancetta. 

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