Some seasons ago, I sat in the backyard of my neighbour and watched as her asparagus plant brought forth its signs of spring. I do not recommend this activity to fans of extreme sports. Actually, I recommend it to almost no one. If you are ever faced with the option of watching (a) asparagus grow or (b) a documentary, choose the latter. Choose it even if the documentary is about growing asparagus.
If obliged to choose between the spectacle of growing grass and that of growing asparagus, favour the asparagus. It really does shift. Those edible green fingers reach toward the sky at an almost visible rate at this time of year. Growth of one, perhaps two, centimetres per hour will not satisfy fast-moving persons, but may well entertain the very slow-moving gardener.
But, cooks of every speed and type are moved by the sight of this fully-grown riddle. Even those who are not much fussed by asparagus come to know asparagus as a herald of better weather and crunchier veg. This little spear cracks open a pinata of culinary promises. Or, it should do. It would do if there weren’t all those terrible things said about it.
You know what I’m talking about. Don’t make me say it. Let’s allow a dead US statesman and inventor to say it instead. “A few Stems of Asparagus eaten, shall give our Urine a disagreeable Odour.” Benjamin Franklin included these thoughts in a 1781 letter addressed to the Royal Academy of Brussels, an organisation he had petitioned for assistance in, um, his “research”. Franklin was eager to improve the scent of, um, gas emissions and if you think I’m so cheap as to make a gag about Founding Farters, you’re mistaken.
We are all mistaken, however, if we believe what we hear about asparagus. While it is likely true that consumption of this springtime veg has that famous effect noted by Franklin and many others, it is not true that every nose can detect it. Most of us are, in fact, insensible to the smell. So, quit sniffing about for a reason to snub this harbinger of the season; one that can cost as little as a buck a bunch.
Asparagus and all its spring vegetable mates have the perfect crunch for tempura appetisers. Source: Sharyn Cairns
Elites of the Roman Empire did not count the cost of the asparagus written histories record them enjoying. We can’t be sure what other ancients paid, either, but we do know that the spear appears largely unchanged since its appearance in an Egyptian frieze. Asparagus has been cultivated and enjoyed for thousands of years.
It is with regret, and in defiance of my doctor’s advice, that I continue to drench the things in hollandaise. Here’s the truth about asparagus: it’s a star, and not one to be messed with.
History’s farmers were so fond of this perennial plant, they eventually got the knack of turning it white by heaping soil on top of its eager little stems. Asparagus has been cooked for kings and plucked by paupers throughout time. Great figures have imagined it to have very great properties and its use has been recommended in the past to gentlemen who wished to emulate its pointiness. It’s a veg that’s seen a lot.
It’s not a veg I’ve ever done much with, so this year, I went in search of all those recipes I imagined the millennia had produced. I would steam it then submerge it in a paddling pool of hollandaise no more. I would savour asparagus in a variety of new and daring guises.
It is with regret, and in defiance of my doctor’s advice, that I continue to drench the things in hollandaise. Here’s the truth about asparagus: it’s a star, and not one to be messed with.
From the time of its emergence so long ago in Asian kitchens, asparagus has demanded top billing. She is a diva who will not be hidden. For a very brief season just once a year, she demands most of your attention. Stand up and agree to her demands: a little dance with garlic or a very long bath in sauce.
Behold, the Mariah Carey of greens.
Helen Razer is your frugal food enthusiast, guiding you to the good eats, minus the pretension and price tag in her weekly Friday column, Cheap Tart. Don't miss her next instalment, follow her on Twitter @HelenRazer.
