To peel or not to peel, that is the question. Whether it is nobler in the mind to go out and find the wild variety or pop down to the shops and pick up the cultivated kind, I could not tell you.
Asparagus is a fickle thing. It requires a few years and good mature soil to get right, and then, after a few decent seasons of production, the ground is no longer worthy enough to grow it. Furthermore, the cultivation of asparagus takes time: careful hand harvesting is essential.
The wild variety is more slender and less pronounced in flavour, but delicious all the same.
Asparagus is best cooked briefly and served warm: not too hot and not too cold. Eggs pair well with asparagus. As does cheese, both young and old. It could complement the freshest goat’s cured (made in about 30 minutes) and the oldest mature Cheddar or Manchego cheese.
The Roman writer Pliny the Elder speaks of giant asparagus spears “three to the pound”. In the 19th century in France, the town of Argenteuil (made famous by the Impressionists) was renowned for growing huge asparagus. However, the flavour, it seems, was entirely lacking. Sometimes bigger is not better.
Perhaps the most perfect pairing for sperage (its 16th century name) is butter. To make a simple but wonderfully comforting broth, blend one part salted butter to one part warm chicken stock (yes, I know, it’s a lot of butter but good things require a little sacrifice). The emulsion should be silky smooth with a rich, unctuous taste.
Trim the woody stem away from the bottom of the asparagus. Blanch spears briefly in boiling water. Remove and season with some coarse sea salt. Place three spears per portion in a bowl and pour the broth over until they are half covered.
To finish, a little shaved fennel in lemon juice on the top would be nice. Something acidic to cut through the richness of the broth.
JP McMahon
