Ravioli with Fava Beans

When I was in high school, I was infamous with the girls in my dorm for the color-coded Post-Its lined up along my desk, detailing the events of my days over the upcoming week. As I progressed through college and, eventually, to the dreaded “real world,” I evolved to a very detailed Google Doc spreadsheet, which I could update from any computer, filling and emptying cells throughout the day. It appeals to my sense of organization and my desire to accomplish something tangible with every day.

Now that I’m in Cannes, every morning I make a schedule and promptly ignore it. I forego it for the beach or shopping or an early apéro at Bar à Vins, where everybody knows your name and you can’t take a sip of wine or make it two sentences into a conversation before you recognize someone and have to swoop in for a bise. It’s a lovely way to spend the day, but it reeks of vacation, and, as most people who hang around me know by now, I don’t do vacation.

“This is my life,” I say, somewhat guiltily, as I abandon the people I’m with who are actually on vacation to “accomplish” one of my many tasks, a freelance job that has been laid out for weeks in that spreadsheet that I have finally closed the tab for, although not without some remorse.

It was the Nomad–a dear friend from my first year here in Cannes who has been popping back into my life at perfectly appropriate and somewhat screenplay-worthy intervals–who asked me, finally, “Why do you need to accomplish anything? All you need to accomplish is being yourself, today.”

Good point, I say. When I try to force myself to write, nothing comes out, or what does is, pardon my French, absolute merde. When I wait, when I force myself to enjoy myself instead of to coop myself up in my room and pound out articles or translations, the words flow as freely as wine.

The past three days have been spent at the beach with Scotty and the Nomad, the evenings over three- and four-hour dinners in Cannes, slurping fresh oysters, drinking endless rosé and chatting at Bar à Vins or with Jason and Nigel at Quay’s, the Irish pub that was our home in 2007. I swim in the Mediterranean at least three times a day, and I crawl on the jetties of rocks that protrude from the beach to examine the shore like it’s my domain.

And when we crawl back home, just tipsy enough to laugh at everything, the words come easily. I don’t check things off my to do list anymore… I don’t even tack new things on. Everything gets done, and I am tan at the end of May.

“This is my life,” I say, but I’m smiling this time.

Ravioli with Fava Beans

I don’t have a kitchen, so this is pulled from last year around this time. It’s incredibly easy and a perfect celebration of spring, with goat’s cheese and fava beans. The store-bought ravioli means that the relatively labor-intensive favas are the hardest part of the meal to prepare.

1 bag prepared ravioli
1 lb. fava beans, shelled
1 tsp. olive oil + 2 tsp. olive oil, separated
1 onion, sliced
3 oz. goat’s cheese

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil and place the shelled fava beans in the pot. Cook for 1 minute or until the beans turn bright green. Drain and shock in ice water, then remove the inner shells. Set aside.

Bring another pot of water to a boil and cook the ravioli according to package directions.

Meanwhile, in a skillet, heat the first teaspoon of oil. Add the onion and cook until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the shelled fava beans and ravioli. Toss to combine.

Remove from heat to a serving bowl and add the remainiing oil. Toss to coat. Top with goat’s cheese. Serve with wine and sunshine.