Mushy peas are another of those British foods that seem, at times, incomprehensible to the rest of the world. It's understandable, too; for many years now there's been a move towards crisp, lightly-steamed vegetables with all the vitamins left in: a far cry from the overdone cabbage and soft, colour-drained carrots that used to accompany the traditional roast beef and yorkshire puds. Why, then, would an individual wish to take tasty, plump, marrowfat peas and boil them until the poor things just give up the ghost and dissolve into a puddle of green goo. Why?

Two answers. Firstly, and most importantly, they taste delicious and have a number of advantages over ordinary peas: try getting these ones to roll off your knife and later reappear as green skidmarks on the carpet. Secondly, there's a little more to it than that. For proper mushy peas, one should take dried marrowfat peas, soak them overnight in a weak solution of bicarbonate of soda and then boil them, keeping a watchful eye on them to begin with, as so often the peas can get a little over-excited and froth alarmingly. Nobody wants to have to explain away green scum on their ring, so watch that stove top! It won't take too long - after about half an hour those peas will be begging for their lives and, after a little longer, will be soundly boiled into submission.

Of course, like most foods nowadays, mushy peas come in a variety of forms intended to ease the pressures on the modern chef. Tinned mushy peas, the most popular variety of which has to be Batchelor's, come in two varieties - chip shop style and traditional. Both of these taste curiously similar, and neither of them taste much like proper, home-made mushy peas. This is a shame, though the chip shop style nomenclature gives us a hint as to the popularity of mushy peas. We Brits love our fish and chips, and mushy peas, along with gravy, curry sauce and scraps, form a traditional accompaniment to such oceanic fare. Chip shop mushy peas can, sadly, vary wildly in quality, and should you find a chip shop which makes its own mushy peas (or, indeed, mushy pea fritters) then hang on to it - the majority nowadays buy their peas in vast, catering-size tins of lurid green tastelessness, and nobody seems to mind...

Other options include frozen mushy peas - either pre-mushed or pre-soaked, depending on your preference and the range available at your local Tesco. The pre-mushed variety are quickly microwaved for around six minutes, providing quick pea-based nutrition for the hungry cook - if you're buying the Lockwoods brand then rest assured - they're authentic whether pre-squished or pre-soaked, and you're good to go. Speaking of which, the pre-soaked variety simply avoid the need to douse the peas overnight, but still require a good hour's water-based corrective treatment to get them to collapse. If, on the other hand, you desperately crave the taste of Batchelor's pre-mushed cans but can only find cans of processed peas then worry not - simply overboil the contents of such a can, along with their juices, and before long you'll have a passable approximation to canned mushy peas. Slop 'em on your chips and you're away.

With all this talk of fish and chips, its understandable that mushy peas have been seen as a kind of vegetable underdog - hardly fashionable and certainly not the sort of thing to serve alongside caviar and smoked salmon. It's nice to see, therefore, that sexy-überchef Nigella Lawson provides us with a recipe for spiced mushy peas. Containing garlic, butter, creme fraiche and petit pois, it means that even the aristocracy can enjoy green slop with their cod'n'chips. What's more, you know the BBC has really run out of newsworthy stories when their 21st November, 2003 bulletin includes the headline Bush Enjoys Mushy Pea Lunch. At the Dun Cow Inn in Sedgefield, no less!

Mushy peas... not just a sloppy foodstuff - a way of life! Sort of...