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by Michael D. Weishan
Somehow I never seem to tire of asparagus. Come spring, I venture
daily to the vegetable patch hoping for any signs of the luscious
spears, returning disappointed when they fail to appear. Then,
one fine day - sound the trumpets! - the wait is over at last.
If you have tasted freshly picked asparagus, you can understand
my excitement. For there is nothing that equals the flavor of
young asparagus freshly dug out of the garden, steamed until just
tender, then eaten at once, seasoned with salt and a little butter.
Having tasted asparagus this way, you would never consider the
store-bought kind again.
Native to the Mediterranean area of southern Europe, asparagus
has been in cultivation for over 2000 years. Even before that,
the ancient Greeks gathered it in the wild and prized the vegetable
for its culinary attributes as well as for its effectiveness in
soothing toothaches and repelling bees. The Romans were equally
enchanted with asparagus, and it was likely they who first domesticated
the plant for food consumption. Their growing methods and techniques
were recorded around 50 B.C. by the Roman agricultural writer
Cato the Elder, whose treatise on asparagus culture would hold
up to scrutiny even today. So beloved was the vegetable that by
the first century a Roman meal was not considered complete unless
it included an asparagus dish. The Roman gastronome Marcus Gavius
Apicius, in what is considered the first published cookbook, De
Re Culinaria, wrote a recipe for one such concoction that consisted
of pounded asparagus tips, seasoned with pepper and baked with
lovage, fresh coriander, savory, onion, wine, oil, and eggs.
Because of its short harvest period - the plants yield for less
than a month once a year in early spring - asparagus has always
been considered something of a luxury. That never stopped asparagus
lovers through the centuries from devising ingenious ways to extend
the growing season. In 1677, Louis XIV even commissioned the construction
of special greenhouses to ensure a guaranteed supply for his royal
table. By the late 1660s, asparagus was widely available in English
produce markets, where it was known as sparrowgrass, or simply
grass. The Dutch and English colonists brought asparagus to our
shores in the 1700s. By the 1850s the plant had made it as far
as Northern California, which soon became one of the centers of
domestic commercial production. Despite its rarefied origins,
the asparagus plant is now widely available and grown in most
parts of the United States with the exception of the deep South.
There is a saying among gardeners that a well-made asparagus bed
will often outlast its planter. The key to success lies in the
term well made. As with rhubarb or any long-term planting, the
soil has to be particularly well dug and amended. Such work is
not for the faint of heart. Asparagus requires - and there is
no getting around this - soil that is extremely rich in rotted
manure and compost (at least one part manure to one part soil)
and a bed that is at least 2 feet deep. That requires a lot of
work and, as my Uncle Guy from Oklahoma would say, a whole heap
and a peck of manure. But take heart: you don't have to dig 2
feet down. In many sections of the country, such as here in rocky
New England, you couldn't anyway. The solution is simply to build
upward. Asparagus is a perfect candidate for the raised-bed method,
which also makes for much better drainage, faster harvesting and
easier maintenance.
After ordering my one-year-old asparagus crowns through the mail,
I dug my beds about 1 foot deep, removed stones and other debris,
and then enclosed the bed with cedar boards staked every couple
of feet or so. You can also use painted pine boards, but they
will rot sooner than the cedar. Pressure-treated wood is another
option, but I am not enthusiastic about using large amounts of
pressure-treated wood around long-term crops like asparagus. I
then filled the beds with rotted manure all the way to the top
of the boards and further tilled it in until the beds contained
a rich soil mixture. I made a trench about 15 inches deep and
spaced the plants about 18 inches apart with the roots spread
out. I covered them with just enough soil to hold the plants in
place and watered them. As the spears appeared, I continued to
fill in the trench until the soil bed was level.
Making and tending an asparagus bed requires patience and hard
work. The plants need to rest unharvested for two years, during
which time they must be well watered and weeded. Fortunately,
the plant's fernlike fronds are actually quite pretty and make
a pleasant addition to the garden, even before you begin to reap
your harvest. One traditional method I've read about for keeping
weeds down involves applying salt to the asparagus bed in the
spring at the rate of half a pound per square yard. This reputedly
has some benefit to the asparagus and keeps down all but the most
salt-tolerant weeds. I have never used this method, however, as
I prefer to mulch heavily with half-rotted leaves and compost,
which has the double benefit of controlling weeds and providing
nourishment. But those of you without access to large quantities
of compost may want to experiment with this salt method. Beginning
in the third year, and for every year thereafter, your hard work
will pay off.
One last warning. Before I planted my beds, I had been told that
modern varieties of asparagus were almost carefree, unlike their
old counterparts, which were susceptible to rust and fusarium
wilt. The operative word is almost. The plant's one Achilles'
heel is a nasty little (1/4 inch long) red critter known as the
asparagus beetle, whose black larvae will defoliate an entire
stand, to quote the Roman Emperor Augustus, "faster than
you can cook asparagus." The only available course of action
is to spray the plant with a natural Pyrethrum or Malathion solution.
Fortunately, the problem doesn't usually get out of hand until
after harvest, but left unchecked it will eventually destroy the
bed. Removing all the dead foliage in the fall and lightly cultivating
the bed after a frost helps to discourage the beetle.
COOKING WITH ASPARAGUS
by Karen McCarthy
Asparagus is as much a herald of spring as pussy willows, daylight
savings time, and daffodils - another reason, along with its wonderful
taste and versatility in the kitchen, I am always overjoyed to
see the first spears appear on market shelves. At a dinner party
I went to recently where asparagus was served, two of the guests
waxed poetic about their childhood forays into the woods to gather
wild asparagus. It seems that such rhapsodic asparagus musings
are not uncommon around this time of year.
Those of us who aren't lucky enough to have an asparagus bed or
a cache of wild asparagus growing in the woods need to buy asparagus
in the market. For a few precious weeks each spring, the vegetable
is in peak condition and quite reasonably priced. Like sweet corn,
asparagus is at its best just after it's been picked. The fresh
spears should be treated like cut flowers. Immediately after getting
them home, cut the ends off the stems and store them upright in
the refrigerator in a glass of water. If space is an issue, the
ends can be cut, wrapped in damp paper towels, and stored in a
zip-top vegetable bag in the refrigerator.
When choosing asparagus at the market, select only the stalks
with lightly closed buds. Asparagus should be bright green in
color; the stems, ideally no bigger than 1/2 to 3/4 inches in
diameter, should have a smooth, unshriveled texture and be firm
enough to snap when bent. Make sure the asparagus you purchase
has been stored upright in water, not wrapped in cellophane in
a tray. If at all possible, buy asparagus on the day you plan
to serve it. White asparagus is also increasingly available in
markets. Long popular in Europe, it is considered a delicacy and
priced accordingly. White asparagus is simply asparagus that has
been covered as it grows to block out sunlight, allowing no chlorophyll
to develop.
There are several methods of preparing asparagus for cooking.
The first I call the weekday method because it is quick and efficient:
simply snap the tough, woody base off each spear. The spears tend
to be different lengths, however, and about 1/3 of each spear
is wasted. The second method yields a much more elegant presentation.
Trim about 1/2 inch at the bottom of the stem and remove 1/3 of
the spear's tough outer skin with a vegetable peeler. The spears
will all be the same length, and when they are blanched, the color
contrast is beautiful. It is a time-consuming and tedious task,
however, which is why I do it only when I have plenty of time
to spare.
Asparagus can be prepared in many ways. My preference is to blanch
the thin, tender spears in salted, boiling water for a few minutes
until barely tender, and then drain and shock in ice water. These
are best served very simply at room temperature, with a creamy
dip or dressed with lemon and butter sauce or vinaigrette. The
larger, woodier ones lend themselves well to oven roasting or
grilling.
Vinaigrette for Asparagus
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1 1/2 teaspoons sugar
1 tablespoon chopped flat-leafed parsley
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Whisk together mustard, vinegar, sugar, salt, pepper, and parsley.
Continue to whisk while slowly pouring in the olive oil in a thin
stream. Makes approximately 3/4 cup.
Lemon Beurre Blanc
This is a dressy version of lemon and butter sauce.
1/2 cup rice wine vinegar
1/2 cup dry white
wine or vermouth
2 large shallots, finely minced
3/4 cup unsalted butter
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
In a small saucepan over high heat, bring the vinegar, wine, and
shallots to a boil. Maintain the heat until the mixture is reduced
to about 1/4 cup of liquid. Remove the pan from the heat, and
whisk in the butter 1 tablespoon at a time, adding more only as
the butter is blended into the sauce. Add the lemon zest and juice,
and whisk to incorporate. Add the salt and pepper to taste. Makes
1 cup.
Green Goddess Dip
Serve this with asparagus as an hors d'oeuvre when asparagus
season is at its peak.
1/2 cup flat-leafed parsley, finely chopped
1/4 cup fresh tarragon, finely chopped
3 tablespoons snipped fresh chives
3 anchovy fillets, mashed
3 tablespoons capers, drained and finely chopped
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
1 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup sour cream
Combine all the ingredients in a bowl and blend well. Cover and
refrigerate for at least four hours to allow the flavors to blend.
Makes approximately 1 1/2 cups.
Asparagus and Smoked Salmon Strata
This makes a lovely spring brunch dish. Serve with a spinach
salad on the side. Begin making this dish the day before you plan
to serve it.
1 loaf French bread, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1/4 cup fresh minced dill
8 ounces alder-smoked (also called Pacific-smoked) salmon
2 cups blanched asparagus, cut into 1-inch lengths, tips reserved
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 cups milk
6 eggs
1/2 cup grated
Gruyere cheese
Grease a 9-by-13-inch ovenproof dish. Spread half of the bread
cubes evenly over the bottom of the dish. Sprinkle the dill, salmon,
and asparagus evenly over the top of the bread. Season with salt
and pepper. Spread another layer of bread evenly over the top.
In a medium bowl, beat the eggs and add the milk. Pour the egg
mixture over the top of the bread in the dish. Top with the reserved
asparagus tips and the cheese. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate
overnight. Before serving, the strata should be baked. Preheat
the oven to 3501 F. Bake the strata in the middle of the oven
for 45 minutes to one hour, or until puffy and browned. Serves
ten.
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