Minty Peas and Onions

Cattle on summer pasture. Easy week. Cattle work this week. Patrick rode in the truck. He pointed out two heifers I had not noticed. He sees things I do not. The work is shared.

Patrick on the porch in the afternoon. Coffee in the good cup. The cottonwoods.

Campfire steak. Salt, pepper, fire. The whole point.

The sky was the sky. It held everything.

The Tuesday Roundup AA meeting was eleven this week — three new guys from a referral. The room was full. The coffee was strong.

Drove the back fence line Saturday. Two posts down from elk. Replaced them in the morning. The fence held the rest of the week.

Storm came through Friday night. Thunder. The dog hid under the bed. The kids slept through it. The cattle bunched up by the windbreak. Standard.

Drove to Billings for parts Friday. Stopped at the cemetery on the way home. Stood for ten minutes. Came home.

Mr. Whelan from down the road came over Saturday with a story about a horse he sold in 1979. The story took an hour. I listened. He needed someone to tell it to.

Worked on the truck Saturday afternoon. Plugs and wires. Two hours. Hands black with grease. Came in. Showered. Ate.

Listened to the cattle market report on AM radio while I worked the shop. Beef is up. Feed is up. The math is the math.

A reader emailed about the elk chili recipe. Asked what beer to use if non-alcoholic was not available. I wrote back: any beer is wrong if you don't drink. Use stock.

Truck started cold Tuesday. Twelve below. Battery is the original. I will replace it before next winter. I always say I will replace it before next winter. I never have.

The barn cats are doing their job. Down to one mouse this week, in the feed shed. The cats brought it to the porch as proof. They are professionals.

Wrote a blog post Friday night. The first one in two months. About making chili in a snowstorm. Short. Practical. Posted it. Forgot about it.

Three days of horses this week. The work is meditative. The horses know. The owners pay. The cycle holds.

A neighbor's heifer was choking on a corn cob. I drove over with my emergency kit. Cleared the cob with a length of garden hose. The heifer recovered. The neighbor brought a pie the next day.

Mended the chute hinge Wednesday. Welder was finicky. Got it on the third try. Patrick used to do this. I do it now.

The wood pile is half what it was at Thanksgiving. I will split another cord on Saturday. The cord will be ready by next winter. The wood always is.

The Musselshell was clear Sunday. Could see trout in the deeper pools. Did not fish. Just watched.

Took a walk to the river before supper Tuesday. The cottonwoods were silver. The water was running. I did not think much. I just walked.

Hauled three bull calves to the auction yard Wednesday. Got a fair price. Came home. Counted the cash. Put it in the ranch account.

Hank, the dog, herded the chickens by accident. He apologized in the way dogs apologize — eyes down, tail low. The chickens were unimpressed.

The steak gets one line in the journal because it needs one line — salt, pepper, fire, and that’s the whole point. But even on the simplest nights, something green needs to be on the plate, and this is the thing I reach for: peas and onions with a little mint, done in one pan, ready before the fire dies down. It has the same logic as everything else that week — no extra steps, nothing wasted, just what the moment calls for.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 cups frozen peas
1 cup pearl onions, peeled (or 1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons fresh mint leaves, roughly chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried mint)
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons water or chicken stock

Instructions

Soften the onions. Melt butter in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and just beginning to turn translucent, about 5 to 6 minutes. Do not rush this — low and slow gives you sweetness.
Add the peas. Add frozen peas and water or stock to the pan. Stir to combine with the onions. Cover and cook for 3 to 4 minutes, until peas are heated through and bright green.
Season and finish. Remove the lid. Stir in mint, sugar, salt, and pepper. Toss everything together over medium heat for one more minute so the mint blooms into the butter.
Taste and serve. Adjust salt as needed. Serve immediately alongside steak, straight from the pan if the occasion calls for it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Minty Peas and Onions — The Side Dish That Earns Its Place Next to a Campfire Steak