The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)
Dial up an asparagus twist on classic dish
The smartphone is off the table for Catherine Devaney but asparagus is most definitely on, with this imaginative use of the in-season favourite
It’s British asparagus season and I have given up my smartphone. Admittedly two occurrences which are, at first blush, seemingly unrelated and bear no causal connection. It struck me, however, as I reorientate myself to a world in which the dial has turned back to 2008 and navigate life with a Noughties brick, on which even texting is not worth the considerable digital effort, that this will be the first year in many that the season won’t be punctuated by a slew of Instagram asparagus posts or a chorus of tweets about this darling of the vegetable calendar.
Surely few edibles are as photogenic as these triumphant springtime spears, glossy with butter, lightly charred on the barbecue or artfully laced with the richest of decadent hollandaise?
And yet I find myself unable to take a photograph even for my own edification without resorting to borrowing someone else’s smartphone, which rather defeats the object of the exercise.
Perhaps I’ll have to take the radical step of purchasing a real camera.
The most noticeable, almost immediate, effect of giving up the smartphone, once the finger twitches had subsided and the novelty of having to make actual phone calls to communicate had worn off, has been the return of focused concentration; of the ability to be fully immersed in a task in a meditative way without the nag of distraction, the vague sense that something of pressing importance (but usually entirely inconsequential) might just need my attention.
Ironic, given that social media algorithms had taken to bombarding me with posts about mindfulness.
Yet I also find myself strangely aimless in the kitchen between the hours of 5pm and 6pm, the time when a lockdown habit of pretending to cook tea while actually doom-scrolling news and Facebook on my phone, all the while zapping the tendrils of my imagination, had taken root.
I’m persevering though. Like the most puritanical of ex-smokers I tut noticeably when anyone dares draw out a smartphone over the morning toast. Tea now tends to land on the table considerably earlier than before and, with the zeal that only the newly converted can muster, I’m considering declaring the kitchen a smartphone-free zone.
This year I almost certainly won’t be indulging in asparagus on social media but I absolutely will be making the most of it (perhaps even taking the radical step of phoning a few friends to see if they would like to join in).
While British asparagus is readily available in most supermarkets just now, it’s worth looking a little harder to get your hands on some glorious locally grown asparagus. With such a short season, it’s a real cause for celebration, with a unique, grassy but nutty flavour that sings all by itself.
The great Elizabeth David had a few wise words to say about the subject in the classic French Provincial Cooking (Penguin,1960), recommending that “asparagus are always best served in a straightforward way, with melted butter or hollandaise sauce”.
After snapping off the woody ends (if you bend the stems they will naturally break in just the right place) they are simply cooked by blanching in a pan of boiling, salted water for no more than 2-3 minutes (only 1-2 will be needed for slender stems) so that they are just tender but still crisp.
Eat straight away tossed in some hot butter with a squeeze of lemon.
CRISP NUTTY BITE
Alternatively, prep them in advance. As soon as they are drained, immerse the asparagus in ice-cold running water to halt the cooking process, lock in the intense green colour and preserve the essential, crisp nutty bite. You can then eat them cold in salads or for a posh picnic with some cold poached salmon and potato salad.
Quick roasting or barbecuing are also excellent ways to cook asparagus – the speed and brevity of the cooking process being the key – with a toss of olive oil and a squeeze of lemon juice, they’re a match made in heaven for seafood.
Another quick dish to assemble, perfect for spring evenings when the slow setting sun lets us dine outside for the first time, is some hot linguine with a quick sauce composed of crème fraiche, lemon zest and juice, smoked salmon, fresh dill and the cooked asparagus spears, sliced lengthways (a ladle of reserved pasta water will loosen the sauce if need be).
WITH SUCH A SHORT SEASON IT’S A REAL CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION, WITH A UNIQUE, GRASSY BUT NUTTY FLAVOUR THAT SINGS ALL BY ITSELF
CLASSIC ARNOLD BENNETT
But if you should find yourself with a Sunday morning to spare, try an asparagus twist on the classic omelette Arnold Bennett.
It’s not completely without faff to prepare, at the risk of straying from Mrs David’s sage advice there are a few stages involved but, like many good things in life, a little faff is often worth it.
The original British classic was created by a chef at the Savoy Grill, Jean Baptiste Virlogeux, for the writer Arnold Bennett, who was a regular guest in the hotel.
As a cookery student I was taught that
the original version – a rich concoction of eggs and smoked haddock – called for a mixture of both hollandaise and bechamel sauces, laced with cream, which is decadent in the extreme.
However, even for me, it’s a little too much to prepare two mother sauces before breakfast time so I’m sticking with a tangy bechamel enriched with some thick creme fraiche and I find the addition of asparagus lifts the dish.
Cheesewise I used a vintage cheddar; something sharp like Isle of Mull would work well.
Portion-wise, since this is an incredibly rich dish, one omelette shared between two may be enough for most appetites, but if you want to make a second omelette the quantities for bechamel sauce here will amply allow for two (if not the leftover sauce can be kept in the fridge and re-heated for another dish).
And if you have read to the end of this without a quick smartphone Google to check who Arnold Bennett was, I salute you.
Phone a friend?