I grew up eating asparagus, white asparagus that is. In Germany white asparagus is the most prized and sought-after spring vegetable. My father grew it in the garden plot we had outside the city and where he spent every free minute after work. In May, during asparagus season, we ate lots of asparagus to the point where I would say, “Asparagus, again?” My mother warned me that one day, I would think back to my spoiled complaints, yearning for this delicacy. As so often in life, mom was right in the end.
Living in the United States, I do get cravings for creamy white asparagus soup once in a while but I have also begun to like green asparagus a lot. Now I am not even sure which one I like better, green or white.
The asparagus I picked up yesterday from a local farm is as different as can be from the uniform picture-perfect white asparagus of my childhood: some spears thin as a pencil, others thick as a celery stalk, some as long as my underarm, others short and stubby, some purple, some green. Somehow this asparagus feels more genuine and much closer to the earth than blanched white asparagus. This is more than a feeling. Green asparagus does have higher nutritional value than white, and unlike white asparagus, it usually does not require peeling.
I must admit that the thought of growing my own asparagus crossed my mind again. But then I remembered what I just read in Eleanor Perényi’s Green Thoughts (a collection of lovely short gardening essays that makes a great bedtime reading for exhausted gardeners). On asparagus she wrote, “Two companionable people who have assembled their materials can prepare an asparagus bed in a long springtime afternoon, and enjoy it for years without much additional effort.” This is not true! Asparagus, like everything else in the garden, needs constant effort. Having homegrown fresh herbs to put into asparagus dishes, and taking care of the garden that’s already there, is quite enough for me.
I looked at different asparagus flan recipes and decided I was going to make one that uses all parts of the asparagus and has some texture. I also did not want to bother passing the asparagus puree through a fine sieve to remove stringy fibers, so I peeled the thickest stringy spears before cooking.
1 pound asparagus
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 large eggs
1/3 cup plus 3 tablespoons 2% milk
1 teaspoon salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan
2-3 tablespoons snipped chives
2. Bring water to a boil in a large saucepan. Add the lemon juice and cook the spears for 2 minutes, uncovered. Remove them quickly with a slotted spoon and transfer to a bowl with cold water. Drain.
3. Cook the tips in the same water and drain. Cool in a bowl with cold water and drain again.
4. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
4. Puree the cooled asparagus chunks. Whisk eggs with milk. Add asparagus puree, salt, pepper, Parmesan and chives.
5. Spray bottom and sides of a 10-inch pie pan or cake pan with oil. Draw the outline of the bottom on wax paper and cut it out with scissors. Line the pan with it and spray the paper with oil.
6. Pour the egg-asparagus mix in the pan. Arrange the tips on top (if you do it in reverse order and put the tips into the pan first, they will float and move around).
7. Bring water to a boil. Place the filled pan in a larger ovenproof dish (I use the bottom part of my turkey roasting pan). Place in middle rack of the preheated oven and carefully pour boiling water into the outer dish to come halfway up the sides of the filled pan. Bake 50 to 60 minutes, until the flan is set but still slightly wobbly. Carefully remove from the water bath and let cool on a cake rack.
8. When cool, run a knife around the sides to loosen. Refrigerate. When ready to serve, cut into wedges right in the pan, or flip the flan over onto a large plate. Serve with a dollop of Sauce Tartare, or a good, preferably homemade mayonnaise.
Makes 6 servings