When I was growing up, we ate a whole world of vegetables. Artichokes, zucchini, broccoli, cauliflower, lettuce, onions, potatoes, cabbage, string beans, beets, spinach, squash and mushrooms regularly crossed our plates. Because of this early initiation into the world of veggies, when I moved out into the world on my own, I cooked for myself happily and with great variety.

However, as I started shopping at Farmers' Markets and local produce stands, I discovered that for as many vegetables that were old friends, there were still just as many I had yet to explore. So I made a point of trying out new veggies, trying not to be turned off simply because things were unfamiliar (my grandmother Bunny would have been so proud).

Earlier this week, I decided to take on the fava bean. Favas first entered my awareness when I was nine, because that was the year that Silence of the Lambs came out and even though I didn't see the movie until years later, it was hard to avoid the infamous line in that movie that includes a reference to fava beans. I'd seen the beans, in their huge, fuzzy pods, at my local produce market for the last couple of springs, but I'd never purchased them, mostly because I had no idea what to do with them. But on Monday, I decided to be brave and bought two pounds.Part of the reason I figured now was as good a time as any to try out fava beans is that I've been reading Alice Waters' book, The Art of Simple Food. In it, she includes a narrative description of how to prepare fava beans that was more specific and appealing than any other recipe I've read in the past.

Following her instructions, when I got the beans home, I bent the tips of the pod back and forth until they broke, releasing a woody, appealing smell. Pulling them apart, I got lots of green matter under my thumbnails, but the experience was satisfying and made me feel like I was connecting with my inner Laura Ingalls Wilder (although with more olive oil and less hardship).

Bringing a pot of water to boil, I quickly cooked the beans so that I'd be able to get their outer covering off (yes, these are beans that must be shelled twice). After a couple of minutes (I probably left them in the water too long, but I didn't know what I was doing) I pulled the beans out of the water with a spider and dumped them into a bowl of cold water. Then, once again using my trusty thumbnails, I popped them out of their milky green jackets and into a waiting bowl. When I was all done, two pounds of fava bean pods produced a small bowl of edible beans.

I sauteed them with garlic and onions, adding some water and simmering them until they softened up. At the last minute I added some chopped asparagus and shredded spinach, creating a sort of spring succotash. I thought they were terrific, although my dining companion declared that he wasn't much of a fan.

The verdict? I enjoyed them, but I'm not sure they were worth the work it required to get down to the edible part of the vegetable. If I feel the need to shell something again, I think I'll stick to fresh peas.