Exmoor Asparagus: ‘A Mini Event’

WORDS by Mel Roach

‘Sparrow grass’, to use a once-prevalent colloquialism, has been revered as a food and medicine for at least 5,000 years.  It is depicted as a sacrament in some ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamian art.  Later, Romans gathered wild asparagus in quantity from the banks of the Tiber, from where it was whisked away in dedicated chariots and stored in the Alpine snow ahead of preparations for the Feast of Epicurius.  The Saxons called it eorðnafela – ‘earth navel’.  Even today, certain folk seem to have found something eternally venerable in the asparagus plant which is testified by the elaborate assortment of asparagus clubs, societies and festivals in existence worldwide.  It doesn’t appear that people across all cultures are displaying similar appreciation for, say, carrots or swedes. 

In the UK, we have doubled our intake of fresh, home-grown asparagus in the past decade, but compared with much of
Continental northern Europe, our consumption lags way behind.

According to british-asparagus.co.uk, our annual consumption is 8,000 tonnes, around 128g each compared with the kilogram our German and Dutch neighbours annually chomp through. On
the Continent, asparagus is almost always white, with green
and purple varieties routinely blanched by planting the crowns
deeper in the soil.  This is a quite different product to the
verdant, British affair; white asparagus is milder and more fibrous, so requires peeling – celebrity chef John Burton Race called it ‘tasteless’, yet it accounts for around 95% of asparagus production in the EU with the exception of Britain, Switzerland and Italy who favour green spears. Only an estimated 17% of Britons buy asparagus, but we would do well to improve on this; asparagus officinalis comes chock-full of desirable minerals and compounds; folic acid, thiamin, rutin, potassium, vitamins A, B6 and D are all well represented; and it contains more super-antioxidant glutathione than any other plant we know about.

Considered by many to be something of a delicacy and varyingly priced as such, asparagus is not a veg that can be brought up
easily from seed or plug like most other greens.  As perennial
distant-cousins of lilies, the plants like to bed in for an extended period – approximately three years – before channelling the slow-harboured energy into a healthy, above-ground crop.

Stephen Crossman began growing asparagus at Court Place Farm at the foot of Withycombe Hill 20 or so years ago.  As a teenager, the ‘mysterious spears’ his mother brought up from the garden were the only vegetables Stephen was happy to eat. “Ah, but you’ll never be able to grow them,” his mother challenged.  This provocation “festered” in his mind.  Some years later, he can testify to having settled the score.  Indeed, asparagus, once established, is quite rampant in its urgency to produce.  “It can grow six to seven inches every day through the season,” Stephen tells me.  “It is cut daily, but if you go into the field at the end of the day, sometimes it can look as though you haven’t been… We make macabre jokes that if you happened to fall asleep in the field you could wake up pierced!”

The UK asparagus season is brief, around 6-8 weeks.  It begins at the behest of the plants – Stephen’s spears will appear from early May if there has been a decent, early spring.  The rains of 2012 were fairly disastrous, he tells me, and could not be repeated too many times without losing much of the crop.  In the UK, crowns are allowed to produce spears for a relatively short time before harvesting is ceased in order to allow the flowering ‘ferns’, which sprout from the mature spears, to grow on.  The ferns harvest sunlight energy throughout summer and this energy is transported, in autumn, to subterranean storage organs where it will be preserved ready to power the new crop the following spring.

In-season asparagus should taste like raw spring on a riverbank and remind us of the distant surging in of high summer while late frosts still melt into odd mornings.

Theoretically, Stephen tells me, you can continue to harvest edible asparagus daily through to summer’s-end, but the following year’s crop will be diminished.  The ferns are susceptible to fungus and diseases carried by weeds, which are also better competitors for light and nutrients in many cases, so good maintenance of the summer crop requires fastidious weeding; there’s little about asparagus that isn’t pernickety it seems.

Out of season, Britain relies on imported asparagus, predominantly from China and Peru.  There seems to be a manifest consensus among chefs and asparagus-lovers that the imported product is far less flavoursome, sometimes bitter and a quite dissimilar entity to our in-season, home-grown yield.  The latter should taste like raw spring on a riverbank and remind us of the distant surging in of high summer while late frosts still melt into odd mornings.

For all its slightly exotic associations and niche market, asparagus is actually an extremely versatile and fairly user-friendly vegetable.  The unique flavour can hold its own in simple dishes with minimal fuss.  It works perfectly well as a simple accompaniment vegetable, steamed or boiled upright, stems in the water, tips protruding and, as recommended by Stephen, “with a little tin foil hat on the tips… do not overcook it!” before being tossed in butter and seasoning.  Preparation does not generally need to extend beyond trimming any woody ends at the base of each spear – according to preference.  Some chefs say only the top few inches of spears are good to use, but in my own experience, this is pointlessly wasteful.  If the remainder of the stem feels a little tough, one can try peeling it, but with in-season British asparagus, woody ends and toughness should not even be a factor.  Stephen assures me that his asparagus comes tender, trimmed and quite literally ready to eat, his top tip for cooking being to “keep it dead simple”.  Indeed, one of his favourite ways with asparagus is straight raw and diced into a green salad with smoked salmon and scrambled egg.

Asparagus famously makes a delectable marriage with eggs; poached, hard-boiled or baked.  Steamed, buttered ‘sperage’
soldiers can be dipped into a soft-boiled, peppered duck egg
for a high-level breakfast experience.  For a moreish
accompaniment to Asian food, it can be deep-fried raw in
egg-tempura batter for a minute or so until golden brown and eaten with a soy/chilli dipping sauce.  I suspect Stephen may think this somewhat sacrilegious; Withycombe asparagus has a
reputation for its distinct, pronounced flavour, which he attributes to the stony-red, ferrous soil and enriched sea air.  Asparagus-hunters descend from far and wide upon Court Place Farm
during spear season when the farm is open for trade “all day, every day”.  “It’s not really food shopping; it’s a mini event!” Withycombe asparagus is also sold online through the farm’s asparagusbypost website.

The asparagus season is now in full swing; by mid-June it will be coming to a close – the plants decide. One old saying states asparagus ‘disappears in the fires of St John the Baptist’s day’ – on 24 June.  So do try to grab the fleeting ‘sparrow grass’ while it stands proud in the field; crisp, delicate and timely – as much like a spring breeze as food can be.

Court Place Farm is in Withycombe, near Minehead, Somerset, just one mile from Dunster.  During the growing season visitors are welcomed to the asparagus shop, which is open from 10am to 6pm every day.  Stephen is always happy to show visitors the field.  Please call 01984 640236 to leave an order for collection. For news from the field and to check availability call 07974 218696.  Look out for the ‘asparagus’ signs on the main road (A39).  For Sat Nav users, the postcode is TA24 6QB. For more information visit www.asparagusbypost.co.uk

There is a wonderful array of recipes for asparagus on the
excellent British Asparagus website: www.british-asparagus.co.uk