BRITISH IN PARTICULAR
We look at the delicious ingredients farmed, fished, made and grown in the UK. This month: asparagus
This month: asparagus
There probably isn’t a vegetable more synonymous with British springtime than asparagus. The succulent green spears are so delicate, they require little more than steaming and serving with a knob of butter. A limited-edition food, it is officially available from St George’s Day on 23 April until the summer solstice on 21 June. Its short window of availability, paired with its strong seasonal associations, helps to create a clamour – in fact, devotees, from artisan chefs to large retailers, can become positively impatient to get hold of the first freshly cut bundles. “By Valentine’s Day, people are already asking when they can buy it,” says Chris Chinn, the fourth generation of his family to tend the fields of Cobrey Farms near Ross-on-wye in Herefordshire. “It’s a product that inspires great passion – the only other British crop that comes close, in terms of popularity, is the strawberry.”
In contrast to the appeal of shop-ready asparagus, the view of it growing in the soil is distinctly underwhelming. “It’s a muddy brown field with a few sticks in it, really,” says Chris with a smile, as he crouches down to slice off a spear at the base and, dusting off the sandy red soil, snaps it in half to take a bite. “I love that garden pea-smell and sweet taste.” In the background, the blue sky contrasts with the myriad shades of green that colour the Wye Valley on this idyllic May morning. “Different fields are ready at different times, so it’s harvested in stages, unlike cauliflower or celery, for example, which you can collect all at once,” he says.
Up ahead is a group of around 30 workers walking behind a slow-moving tractor, with a rig on its back holding trays. The sound of their gentle conversation mingles with the machine’s low hum. Songbirds add in their chorus from the hedgerows and copses nearby. Each picker has a knife with which to gather the spears that are ready. They are among Chris’s 1,000 seasonal employees from Bulgaria and Romania, 600 of whom work on the land (the remainder prepare the crop for sale in the grading and packing facility). Later this month and into June, when the temperature rises to the 20-25ºc mark, shoots can grow up through the soil and need cutting within 24 hours, beyond which
point they are in danger of ‘flowering’ (when the triangular bracts on the stems start to open up). It’s the job of full-time harvest managers Elina and Cristian to ensure no patch is overlooked. “We have 1,500 acres of the crop and pay people to walk over the same area up to 50 times during the season,” Chris says, explaining why labour is his chief cost and makes asparagus more expensive per weight than most other vegetables.
Picking begins at first light, which is as early as 4am in June, and carries on until dusk. The spears are taken to the packing house where they are hydro-cooled to 2ºc in order to maintain freshness – key to asparagus’s quality of taste and texture. “It’s like a misty morning in those cold stores – we need to provide 100 per cent humidity so they don’t lose moisture.” They are then sorted by length, diameter and quality before being swiftly distributed to supermarkets, delis, farm shops, butchers and restaurants across the country.
The appearance of these precious, sought-after stems is a small part in the life cycle of asparagus. It begins with the planting of a year-old, energy-rich rhizomatous crown (a plant sitting beneath the soil), the size of a man’s hand, in March. For two summers, this plant will remain unharvested – instead, the bracts on the spears will be allowed to grow into tall ferns that will photosynthesize, using the energy to grow a rhizome root system. By the third spring, enough energy will have accumulated for the spears to be harvested. Due to the fact that the yield of this vegetable is relatively low, it doesn’t deplete the soil and so, aside from manure, it requires little fertilisation. Fungal disease can be kept at bay by increasing air flow through the rows, reducing the need for fungicides, while Chris applies minimal pesticides.
Back in his office at Cobrey Farms’ HQ, Chris explains that the surrounding free-draining, mineral-rich sandstone soil makes an ideal site for the crop: asparagus doesn’t like to get wet feet and the nutrients give the vegetables a depth of flavour alongside their sweetness. “We also have a little of that Pembrokeshire/devon advantage, thanks to warm air blowing off the Atlantic, but not as much rain due to the protection of the Black Mountains
and Brecon Beacons.” He makes the point that while vintners talk about the ‘terroir’ giving wine character, he thinks it’s even more relevant with a product like asparagus, because it’s eaten fresh from the ground rather than processed.
Chris’s passion and knowledge could easily suggest that the family has been growing asparagus for generations but, in reality, the Chinns only started cultivating the vegetable in 2004. When a fire destroyed the onion stores at Cobrey, Chris’s brother Henry and his parents, Gay and John, had a rethink about the crops they were growing, which coincided with a call-out from Marks & Spencer for farmers who could help the firm keep up with demand for the newly fashionable vegetable over a longer season. They had always grown asparagus in the garden and it presented itself as the ideal addition to the grains and potatoes already produced on their land at the time. By 2007, Chris, who had been working as a graduate engineer, was ready to come back to the farm and become involved in this new challenge: “We were not only growing it but producing something packed and ready for shoppers bearing our name, so it was a really exciting project.”
After a decade of devotion to this versatile vegetable, Chris’s appetite for asparagus shows no sign of abating. He relishes the start of the season as much as his keenest customers: “I live just down the road, so I look forward to when I can pop home in the middle of the day with a few spears for lunch. I’m no chef, though! I fry it with a little bacon – that way, I can keep an eye on it and make sure I don’t overcook it.”