Not entirely passionate

Spectator, The, May 6, 2000 by Courtauld, Simon

The food photographer's art has gone too far. It is bad enough to have to look at artificially arranged colour combinations of ingredients which are often magnified beyond their actual size. But the height of absurdity was reached last month in a Sunday colour magazine article headed `Gastroporn'. A photograph, taken from a new book, carried the caption, `Asparagus tips dipped in butter', though in fact it showed a bunch of asparagus propped up on a plate with the stems standing in a pool of melted butter. It reminded me of once seeing a man dining with his girlfriend in a pub outside Cambridge and eating asparagus from the wrong end.

So many people are waiting in an ecstasy of anticipation for the first English asparagus this month (coming just after the gulls' egg season which, as a topic of conversation, has dominated dinner parties for the past fortnight) that it seems almost churlish of me to say that I do not entirely share their passion. It's not that I won't enjoy eating asparagus from time to time during May and June; but there are two problems with it. One is the urine smell, in my case always most noticeable in the middle of the night; the other is that asparagus and wine don't go together. Hugh Johnson, in his invaluable Pocket Wine Book, says that an Alsace or a sauvignon blanc is acceptable. But I tend to agree with Auberon Waugh that no wine works with asparagus. There is apparently something biochemical in both asparagus and globe artichokes which is liable to spoil any wine drunk with those vegetables. It may not matter so much if the asparagus is served with meat or fish, but it is much better eaten on its own.

Having never grown asparagus, I know only that you have to wait two years from planting the crowns until your first crop. Presumably the soil should be sandy, because the spindly wild asparagus, found in southern Europe and north Africa, usually grows best near the sea. At the other end of the asparagus scale are the thick white-stalked varieties known as Argenteuil and much favoured in Belgium and parts of France.

The classic English green asparagus has been cultivated here at least since Elizabethan times, when it was more commonly pronounced and spelt `sparrow-grass', a corruption which, according to the Oxford Dictionary, is `vulgar'. In the early 18th century, however, it was given currency in the Addison/Steele Spectator - `The Ducklins and Sparrow-grass were very good' at a time when, as Samuel Pepys recorded 50 years earlier, there were asparagus gardens in London.

I was surprised to learn that asparagus is a member of the lily family; and like the lily it seems to be highly prized almost everywhere. It grows plentifully in America and Asia as well as in Europe. Its popularity is such that there are special silver tongs for lifting the asparagus from serving dish to plate, and pans which allow the asparagus to be cooked standing up, so that the stems boil in water and the tips are cooked in steam. The books usually advise peeling the stalks before cooking, but this is seldom necessary with the asparagus found in shops these days. Having been bundled with string or elastic bands and boiled/steamed for 15-20 minutes, the asparagus should be drained and eaten with salt and melted butter or a hollandaise sauce.

I have always thought these to be the best ways to eat asparagus. Worst of all is a cold, soggy asparagus spear wrapped in brown bread, which was once the staple fare of cocktail parties but has now mercifully been consigned to history. It is astonishing how many different recipes for asparagus are to be found; Janet Ross's Leaves From Our Tuscan Kitchen, published in 1905, gives 15, without ever mentioning asparagus soup, puree, souffle or the fat white asparagus, which is probably best eaten cold with vinaigrette or mayonnaise.

I am coming round to the idea of asparagus and eggs. The Belgians apparently enjoy mashing hard-boiled egg into the melted butter to make a thicker sauce, and in Spain asparagus is sauteed in oil, with a sauce of egg yolks and ground cumin. Asparagus tips can be mixed with scrambled eggs and a little grated parmesan cheese, and, though I have yet to try it, there are those who insist on dipping asparagus `soldiers' into a soft-boiled egg.