Spring Eating
Spring Eating
With asparagus, mushrooms and rhubarb and a lawn that won't quit growing
Changes are happening. I have to mow my yard nearly twice a week and I'm not complaining. The burst of warm weather punctuated by rain has brought a palpable mood swift along with the first round of seasonal vegetables at the farmers market. Asparagus, mushrooms, and rhubarb are available and I snatched them with zeal.
I care about eating things when they're in season. I don't die on this hill, but its one I happily try and climb, over and over, year after year. The length of Michigan winters can push even the fundamentalists of seasonal eating to a breaking point. I do what I can. I eat a lot more root vegetables in the fall and winter and avoid buying asparagus, peppers, and tomatoes not in a can when snow is flying. We all have our codes and rules, and I, like many, allow myself some flexibility. But I believe at least thinking about seasonal eating is beneficial. There are joys to be had in it:
“Taking time to think about why eating seasonally matters so much has made me realise too how important particular times of the year are in connecting food and memory. (…) I don’t know about you, but I really want to feel the excitement of the first summertime tomatoes and strawberries. There’s even a point to the boredom of winter’s roots by the end of their season. I want food that fills me with anticipation, surprise, nostalgia, tedium – because that is life. There is joy in not being able to have everything all the time, but in looking forward to something – and then missing it when it is gone.”—Seasoning, by Angela Clutton
The rhubarb, like the high powered electric weed whacker I've had my eye on for years, will have to wait until I decide what I want from it: keep it mouth puckeringly sweet, or transform into dessert? Time and mood will tell although a rhubarb galette is the top contender. The asparagus I wanted raw in a salad. Joshua McFadden, chef and author of Six Seasons (the cookbook I use most often. It is a gem to have and provides great inspiration for seasonal cooking. If the title wasn't obvious enough.) suggests trying fresh asparagus raw before you decide to cook it. You get the true sense of taste from the vegetable before its transformed by dry or wet heat. I've heard this advice given to everything from asparagus to butternut squash. I modified McFadden's raw asparagus salad by adding roasted broccoli because I had a floret bidding time in my crisper and basil instead of mint, as I just picked up my first fresh herb plant. The salad, with walnuts, breadcrumbs, and parm is delicious.
Raw Asparagus Salad with Breadcrumbs, Walnut and Mint, from Josh McFadden's Six Seasons
1/2 cup dried breadcrumbs
1/2 cup grated parm
1/2 up finely chopped lightly toasted walnuts
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
Red pepper flakes
1 pound of asparagus, tough ends trimmed
About 1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup mint leaves
Salt and pepper, extra virgin olive oil
Put the breadcrumbs, parm, walnuts, and lemon zest in a large bowl. Add 1 teaspoon salt, a bunch of twists of black pepper, chili flakes, and lemon juice. Toss to combine everything.
Cut the asparagus on a sharp angle into very thin slices and add to the crumb mixture. Add the lemon juice and toss again. Taste, and dial in flavors by adding more salt, pepper, and/or lemon juice. When the salad tastes delicious add the mint and 1/4 cup of olive oil and toss.
A real meal of a salad -- the walnuts and breadcrumbs make it quite satisfying and the dressing draws you in for bite after bite. I added a few splashes of Acid League's Meyer Lemon vinegar. I cannot recommend their products enough.
The mushrooms, mysterious and compelling little things, went into an asparagus and spring onion pasta. I sauteed the mushrooms (I believe they were wine cap mushrooms?) in butter and olive oil over medium heat until the browned up nicely, choosing not to salt them to avoid drawing out any moisture. Next, the ends of some spring onions I have growing in my garden beds. Finally, a lot of asparagus spears, sliced on an angle, while adding salt, pepper, half a lemon's zest and juice, and left over low heat while the orecchiette cooked. I reserved about a half cup of the pasta water, dumped in the pasta, added some parm and pasta water, and stirred until a rustic sauce formed. Once adjusted with salt, pepper, and some more of that highly fantastic Acid League vinegar, I added a big fistful of parsley and the green shoots of the spring onions.
The lyricism of life is not in grand things; rather, the small gesture, the song on the drive home, the last of Sunday night's wine. A jolt of enthusiasm and excitement on weekday nights from the verdant pop of fresh asparagus and the zing of raw rhubarb are small acts I can get behind.