God and nature, once again, have given me ample reason for hope. I have been shamed out of last week's pessimism about the lack of sun and warm temperatures by the emergence of a dozen or so spears of asparagus, several beautiful days and the promise of almost 80-degree temperatures by the end of the week. While I have been clipping spinach leaves from last fall's crop (we enjoyed a tasty spinach and tomato cream sauce over penne last week) and the new greens will be ready soon, the asparagus will be my first true harvest of the 2008 season. Already, I can taste it. I've found new recipes for a spring vegetable risotto and an asparagus and ham frittata that will be on my dinner table soon.
My impatience for asparagus has already gotten the best of me, however, and I purchased some less-than-local spears several times in the last month. I am using a new roasting technique that is simple and tasty. I just heat up a 1/4 sheet tray drizzled with a tablespoon of olive oil in a 400 degree oven while I wash and snap the asparagus to the width of the tray (about 6 inches). Remove the tray from the oven, tilt to distribute the oil, and arrange the asparagus in a single layer. Shake the tray gently to roll the asparagus back and forth in the olive oil. Season with salt and pepper and perhaps a little garlic or garlic salt (just be careful the fresh garlic doesn't burn and become bitter). Roast until the spears are to the desired tenderness. I like them crisp so it takes less than 10 minutes, depending on the thickness. Grilled asparagus is even more wonderful.
My 12x12-foot asparagus patch is about 12 years old. I grow Jersey Giant, a disease-resistant, all-male hybrid that is supposed to be a better producer than older varieties. I am tempted to try some heirloom asparagus, but have been loathe to break sod on another bed. Asparagus is a perennial, and it takes patience--typically you have to wait four years for a full harvest. Conventional wisdom is that a "well-maintained" asparagus bed will last 10-15 years, keeping the plot as weed free as possible and applying compost each year. But my bed shows no signs of giving up, despite a plague of wild strawberries (see picture above) and the encroaching shade from our ever-larger white pine trees.
I have good reason to be skeptical that my asparagus only has a few more years to live. First of all, the ditch banks along nearby roads produce a decent supply of pick-your-own asparagus each year. According to my husband, Green Giant used to grow asparagus for market in these fields in the 1970s. With both irritation and delight, I watch each spring as folks take their lives in their hands to stop along our narrow country freeway to snap off free spears. I'm irritated because more than once I've had to come to a sudden stop to avoid a head-on collision with a car coming from the opposite direction and because, well, that's MY asparagus growing along the ditchbank-- but apparently others feel the same way. I'm delighted because the asparagus has survived decades growing amongst brush and thorns, making my weedy bed look "well-maintained."
Another reason for skepticism is that my grandfather's asparagus bed remained productive for some fifty years. He was a small-scale "truck" farmer, growing vegetables and small fruits for the local market and canneries. The small plot I remember was behind his garage, probably about 30 by 40 feet. In contrast, at Trumpington in nearby Kent County--the case study in my book--the family cultivated about 10 acres. The patriarch of the family recalled picking, bunching (see picture of antique buncher) and packing asparagus before school for weeks to ship to Baltimore in the 1930s--a lucrative business. No one can recall the variety my grandfather grew, but I don't think it was an heirloom. About 15 years ago, my aunt who lives on the family property began to mow down the asparagus. She had retired and liked to travel, and who could blame her for not wanting to weed 120 square feet of garden! By the time she told me about it (I tried not to look horrified), she'd been mowing for several years and it had just about finally given up. Once again, my asparagus plot comes out looking pampered. I figure I have at least 40 more years.
I did make a small addition to the perennial portion of my garden: MacDonald rhubarb. I planted three crowns in a slightly raised bed at the end of the asparagus bed (hoping to deter the wild strawberries). There will be no harvest this year, and only a light one next year. Until then, I am on the lookout
for recipes because I've heard it is quite tasty. Mildred Strong, the current owner of Trumpington, says rhubarb is good in pie and you can stew it much like applesauce. Seventy years ago, the nuns at her Catholic school served it to the children almost daily. I didn't get the impression she wanted me to bring her any when it was ready to harvest. So my rhubarb, like asparagus, will require some patience. According to the growing directions from Johnny's, "a well maintained patch will last 10-15 years...or longer." I'm trusting it will last longer.© 2008 Jenifer Dolde
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