Spring

Things we didn’t know about asparagus:

• That is has male and female flowers on separate plants, although occasionally hermaphrodite flowers bloom.
• That South Korean scientists claim it’s an excellent hangover cure.
• That it’s long been thought of as a safeguard against gout.
• That warm water from asparagus cooking may help heal blemishes on the face.
• That it’s a source of energy.
• That it may be beneficial as a laxative.

That according to The Perfumed Garden of Sensual Delight by Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad al-Nafzawi published in the 15th Century in Arabic and first translated to English from the French edition by Sir Richard Francis Burton, it has aphrodisiac effects.

And giving credit where credit is due, all of these facts were learned from Wikipedia and (official disclaimer) in some instances, there’s a peg that says “citation needed”. Having said that, we love asparagus. Back in the day when it was always served with Hollandaise Sauce to it’s more modern versions – asparagus soup; served cold with a balsamic vinaigrette; served warm with butter and lemon. It’s elegant and festive and since it’s spring, it’s also in season.

Spring Asparagus Soup | Asparagus Cheese Puffs | Spring Salad with Asparagus and Snow Peas

Grilled Asparagus Salad with POM Vinaigrette | Shaved Asparagus Salad | Cold Poached Asparagus with Basil Mayonnaise | Roasted Asparagus & Grape Tomatoes with Crumbled Feta | Roasted Asparagus with Sage Infused Brown Butter | Sauteed Asparagus with Hazelnut Crumble

Italian Asparagus, Mushroom, and Parmesan Frittata | Asparagus, Bacon, and Cheese Quiche

Well, I am embarrassed to admit that I got overwhelmed in Whole Foods the other day. Here I am a Food Professional (whatever that is), and the sheer abundance of goodies in the store was just too much for me. Granted, it was a quick stop—I only had 10 minutes to troll the store, as I was on my way to a book signing at Andover Bookstore in Andover, MA. Since we don’t have a Whole Foods on the Island (nor a grocery store anywhere near the size and breadth of this kind), I try to stop in one of these stores when I’m off-Island, mostly to see what the produce selection is like, but sometimes to pick up a specialty ingredient.

So it’s a little frustrating to be in a store with zillions of different products and not much time to peruse them. But honestly, even if I had hours on my hands, or a store like this nearby for regular shopping, I’d still probably be a bit blinded and a tad frazzled by all the colors and sounds and choices and crowds. It’s just a personal preference for me these days—I like things simpler and quieter, and I don’t mind a few less choices.

My first foray into a closer relationship with artichokes began as a work assignment. Drive to Lompoc, California, chat with a farmer, get some pictures and get back to Los Angeles without becoming a part of the daily human-and-metal gridlock. Coffee in hand, I raced up the 5, beating traffic and made it with a few minutes to spare.

Until that point, I categorized artichokes as one of those foods shrouded in history, enjoyed by Romans and Greeks but not necessarily an everyday part of my kitchen. Spiky, thorny, gorgeous yet inhospitable, my little mind was about to be opened to the joys of this thistle.

I spent the day with Steve Jordan. Steve is a man who knows his chokes. In fact, his level of knowledge is quite intimidating. Serious, polite and quiet, Steve is a forth generation California farmer who has been growing artichokes for over twenty years. California grows the majority of artichokes consumed in the United States, and they’ve been grown here since the 1800s when Italian immigrants brought them to the west. The coastal weather of areas like Lompoc and Castroville are perfect for artichokes, and here they thrive like crazy.

One cooking feat that has eluded me until now is searing fish with extra crispy skin. I've finally managed to do it after much experimentation and lamentation. After eating so many fish dishes with crispy skin in restaurants, some so crispy that it seemed I was eating a potato chip, I've wanted to try cooking it myself. The technique I use here is a lot like the one used on roasting chicken, where you smear it with butter before setting it in the oven to ensure a crispy brown skin. Here I smear the salmon skin with butter and sear it skin-side down. The result is not only crispy but also a lovely brown—it's just delicious.

For a unique springtime pairing, I adore fiddlehead ferns, which can only be found in early spring. You won't necessarily find them at the market since their harvested in the wild, but more likely at the farmers' market. But it just so happens that I did find mine at my local supermarket to my surprise. They were so beautiful that I couldn't resist buying a bagful. They look quite funny, because they're actually unfurled fern leaves. Don't worry, they are edible. Some say they taste like a cross between asparagus and artichoke, but I think they taste even better—of fresh spring.