Asparagus

Six hundred years before Christ, the Greeks raised up a grand colony on the verges of the Mar Tirreno, dedicating it to Poseidon. Now known as Paestum, the whole cadence of life, as it was then and there, sits in high relief, a phenomenal diorama, traceable, floating, gleaming. The great temples, barely wounded and without a haunting, invite one inside to stay among the rests of old dreams, to race among the open pathways between them. A cordial parish, a fair Camelot, it seems, while one sits awhile on the thick tufts of grass inside the Temple of Neptune, having slipped under the easy gate to watch the sunrise, to collect armfuls of the tall, thin spears of asparagus that grow wild, treasures to take back to Alfonso to cook for lunch. He, having spent the morning gathering clams, combined the collected booty with fusilli di Felitto—beautiful pasta, hand-rolled then wound, one string at a time, around the traditional, corkscrew-shaped wires, used and prized like jewels, by the women of the nearby village of Felitto. Dishes that marry wild vegetables with sea or shellfish are typical of the Cilentini, they thinking it a thing natural to prepare their suppers with stuffs foraged from woods that fall down to the sea.

White asparagus, ramps, and morels are the caviar, foie gras, and truffles of the vegetable world. Simply sautéing them together in brown butter and serving them with creamy polenta is one of my favorite ways to enjoy these edible trophies of spring.

When I was growing up, my dad and I had an ongoing asparagus arrangement: I would cut off the tips of my asparagus spears and trade them for his ends. While most asparagus eaters like the tender tips best, to this day I still prefer the fibrous-textured stalk and would happily swap tips for ends if anyone offered. In this simple first course, asparagus is grilled, then layered with prosciutto and dressed with mustard cream. I hope it’s delicious enough to disappear before your guests have a chance to debate which end is better.

This dish is more or less fried eggs with crunchy, savory bits cooked into them. It’s like a cross between a frittata and an omelet, but a whole lot better. This is Marja’s favorite weekend breakfast, so I usually just make two servings for us to share, but you can easily double the recipe below if you cook it in a large skillet.

I love this asparagus-olive combo. Blasting the two together in a really hot oven intensifies all of the flavors. If you make this with thin asparagus spears, skip the peeling step and roast for just 6 minutes.

People often ask me why the asparagus in my eponymous restaurant tastes so much better than similar-looking spears they’ve had elsewhere. The answer is simple: We cook each batch to order. Most kitchens blanch the asparagus early in the day and then reheat it just before serving; a lot of flavor is lost that way. This is one of the first lessons my chef de cuisine Mark Lapico teaches new cooks at my flagship. Once you try this recipe at home, you’ll never throw your asparagus in ice water again. Of course, you can make this dish with olive oil, but it’s especially good with butter.

Here’s a lovely, light pizza that’s perfect for a springtime meal.

Use slender asparagus and you won’t need to scrape the stalks. If you still believe that asparagus should be a harbinger of spring (even though it’s in the market nearly year-round now), make this dish a tradition by serving it every April or May.

I like to make this quiche in late spring, when asparagus is at its prime. When selecting asparagus, look for straight, firm, bright green stalks with deep green or purple tips. The fresher, the better, so purchase your asparagus as close as possible to the time you plan to make the quiche.

Asparagus stands up well to being roasted at high heat or on the grill. Extreme heat helps caramelize the veggie and bring out its sweetness. The asparagus is meant to be served al dente—please don’t overcook it, as a little toothsome bite is welcome here. Make sure you use whole-grain mustard for its great texture.

This salad is a permanent feature on our menu. It starts with simple greens, then is topped with a selection of market vegetables, three balls, and the sauce of your choice. When topped with veggie balls, it’s a serious vegetarian meal, but you can also top it with any ball you’d like (heat up your balls in the microwave for a minute or two to take the chill off). Ladle on your favorite warm sauce in place of the expected dressing.

Season: May to June: Spotting the first tips of asparagus pushing their way above ground in late spring is one of the greatest moments of the growing year. Use a good but not really expensive olive oil (see p. 30). When the asparagus has been eaten, the flavored oil can be used to make a lovely salad dressing. You will need one jam jar that is about 8 inches high, with a capacity of about 16 ounces, and a second jar with a capacity of about 8 ounces.

When spring hits and the asparagus comes into season, I can’t wait to eat this simple potato salad. Because it’s made without mayonnaise, it can be held at room temperature where the flavors can really develop. It’s perfect picnic food. Once the asparagus goes out of season, try making it with a pound of green beans instead.

As far as Dinosaur patrons are concerned, anything with goat cheese is kinda suspicious. Add some asparagus and you’re tippin’ the highbrow scale—hence the name of this dish. Many have discovered the tangy difference goat cheese makes when matched up with our Mutha Sauce.

This casserole belongs on a plate with roast beef, rice, and gravy for Sunday lunch. We probably didn’t have it every Sunday, but it was often part of the standard after-church meal. I’m a little surprised that as children we ate asparagus, but Daddy always said we’d eat anything with Mama’s cheese sauce on it!

Mama Colaruotolo traces this dish back to her ancestral home in Italy. While it originally called for Italian white wine, she substitutes her family’s Finger Lakes Chardonnay to create a New World masterpiece. The Finger Lakes wine adds distinctive fruitiness to the dish, even better the next day, allowing the flavors to integrate even more.

This dish is one of the first things I make once the Pacific salmon season has opened. It is the first sign that summer is near. Later in the summer, I make a similar dish with corn, zucchini, and tomatoes with fresh basil. Any combo of fresh, perfectly sweet, just-picked veggies will be a great complement to the fish. It’s especially important to buy wild salmon—even self-proclaimed “sustainable” salmon farms are dangerous because of the parasitic lice that thrive on farmed salmon; when the infested fish escape (a frequent occurrence), the lice threaten the wild salmon population. If wild salmon isn’t in season, use any sustainable fillet or steak that is of similar thickness. If available, use 1/4 cup chopped green garlic instead of the garlic cloves. And if you can find them, rainbow carrots are beautiful here.

Chef Danielle Custer, who attended the 1997 Workshop, devised this modified potpie to use leftover Thanksgiving turkey. She wanted to make a version of the freezer-case classic but without the traditional bottom crust or the peas. Brian has added a California touch: asparagus from the winery garden, transforming the modest all-American potpie into a dish suitable for guests. Tender drop biscuits scented with chives take the place of a pastry crust.

When our wine-club members receive their wine shipment, we include a recipe that we enjoy with the featured bottle. Cakebread resident chef Tom Sixsmith devised this pasta preparation to accompany the Chardonnay Reserve, but you may find that you want to make the dish weekly in asparagus season. The nutty whole-wheat pasta and smoky bacon help combat the notion that asparagus doesn’t go with wine.

In late spring, when California asparagus are still available and the Cakebread garden is yielding the year’s first onions, Brian makes this delicate pizza bianca (a “white pizza,” or pizza without tomato sauce). The fresh-dug onions haven’t been cured yet, so they don’t have papery skins, and their flavor is mild. Many supermarkets sell “spring onions” that look like thick scallions with a bulbous root end. They would work in this recipe, as would leeks or even cured yellow onions, but uncured onions have the most delicate taste. Choose a fresh ricotta without pectin or other stabilizers. The Bellwether Farms ricotta from neighboring Sonoma County is our favorite.