Something Saucy – Slice 5
The hunger gap makes way for asparagus season.
Welcome to Something Saucy. You will find your fair share of sauce-related recipes here, but Something Saucy won’t solely be a repertoire for sauce making. We will also feature various recipes and techniques deemed that little bit ‘saucy’. As always, it is our quest to expand on what we don’t know and to share with those who care.
This newsletter is brought to you by Cúán Greene, Founder of Ómós.
Our calendars are soon to read summer, but with persistent frost and a three-week drought, we are experiencing a delayed spring. As I write this, sleet precipitation compounds against the roof of my house, which undoubtedly will be followed by the emergence of sun. Welcome to Ireland. That being said, it has been a joy to watch the scenery change and unfold. We are now able to go out and forage young shoots and blossoming flowers once more. Glorious carpets of golden rape flowers replace what were forgettable green fields, reflecting their sunshine across the meadows. As the increased warmth breathes life into our soil, welcome pockets of colour scatter our hedgerows, with the initial emergence of the delicate lemon-in-colour primrose, followed by the snowflake-like flowers from the blackthorn. Only in the last week have the cow parsley fronds appeared, along with the beautiful sun-searching garlic mustard, and at last the ferns emerge with their unfurling fiddle-like heads. I love all of these, because not only are they beautiful, they too are edible.
As the season progresses, soon we will have elderflowers to be made into cordials and vinegar, beach rose (Rosa rugosa) petals that produce the most fragrant of syrups, and berries, lots and lots of berries.
Springing into action
As you can imagine, the farm is now a busy place. The laborious task of laying out rows to our market garden has finally been completed and their paths are filled with wood chips (a natural weed preventative). Our two Kunekune sows have just given birth to 10 lively piglets, whom we look forward to introducing to green pasture in the next couple of weeks (Kunekune pigs are grazers and therefore love grass). This week we have sown some unique species of bok choy, a small variety of cauliflower, Hokkaido pumpkins, various types of corn and a vast array of herbs and flowers. Along with strawberries and other fruits, we hope to supply restaurants this summer. All this hard work requires nourishment, and luckily for us the farm lunches continue to come thick and fast. Yesterday's feast included turkey and ham, which had been packed away in the farm’s bottomless chest freezer since last Christmas. Despite being well organised, in times of great haste, Niall states his mother has been known to whip up a quiche in seven and a half minutes.
Then there’s the brewing of our second batch of the Vintner’s Companion which is well and truly underway back at HQ (batch #2 will be ready on the 22nd May). We are also working on a new and very exciting product for all you keen foragers. Spring is an ideal time to collect wild food so we hope to have it on our online store before the lush growth of summer sets in.
If you’ve been enjoying the springtime return of the many herbs and vegetables full of seasonal promise, you may have noticed the luscious spears of asparagus now being stacked on grocery shelves. I absolutely adore asparagus. All forms of asparagus: green, white, wild, and cultivated. They remind me of the holidays, served with grilled fish, hollandaise and little else. There is something quite ornate about white asparagus though. I love their stark white appearance, bitter yet sweet flavour, as well as the texture when just barely cooked through. Unlike their green counterpart, they can be preserved really well, best as a lacto-pickle. Steaming works perfectly well too, but to my mind, the best way to cook white asparagus is over gentle charcoal, brushed in oil, with their outer layer shrivelling and caramelising against the glowing embers. You can try this out in the recipe below.
White gold
You probably already know this, but white asparagus is not a variety but a method of production. It is the same as green asparagus, just deprived of light. Unlike green asparagus (which is grown above ground), mounds of clay are covered up over the asparagus as it grows, which helps at blocking out the sunlight. This inhibits photosynthesis and prevents any green colouring. As soon as their white heads appear they are plucked from the soil. The process is lengthy and undoubtedly more work than growing green asparagus the conventional way, but the price of this seasonal commodity also reflects that. White asparagus has a different flavour, inherently less ‘green’, lending a more delicate and slightly bitter taste, a quality we in Ireland are becoming more accustomed to.
In Europe, white asparagus is highly prized, and in countries such as France, Germany and Holland, each year their arrival is celebrated. The Germans are said to consume over 125,000 tonnes of white asparagus each year, with festivals decorated across the prime asparagus growing regions. It makes me wonder why white asparagus is yet to be cultivated in Ireland? Asparagus grows perfectly well here. Unlike many vegetables, the crop is perennial, meaning it comes back each year and should last up to about 35 years. It is particular to sandy soil, so coastal terrain is perfect. After planting, I have been told it takes up to 3 years to achieve a first crop, so perhaps it’s only suitable for those with developed farms and sizeable land (and an abundance of patience). We can only hope they’ll thrive on our farm one day… Although we had plans to plant asparagus this year at the farm, a lack of funds and time meant we put energy into other crops which could be converted into revenue straight away. Hopefully following a fruitful 2021, we will have enough funds to plant asparagus next year.
Alas, you may be wondering why supply a recipe for something that isn’t hyper local? The answer is simple. I love white asparagus and would love if it was available here. In order to do that, there must be a demand. If recipes are created and we develop a taste for the ingredient, demand will grow and there will be a necessity for farmers to attempt the crop. Right now, there are only a handful of green asparagus growers in Ireland, which I have outlined below. It is my ambition that our food system develops and as a country, we continue to be ambitious within agriculture and produce as much exhilarating and equally diverse produce as possible.
A list of asparagus growers in Ireland
Drummond house - Co. Louth (asparagus and garlic)
Grá Farm - Co. Cork
Castleruddery Farm - Co. Wicklow
The following dish is very adaptable. To be frank, it's a mash-up recipe: an amalgamation of a few elements I have written in the past as well as one or two new additions such as brown butter. We had it last night for dinner, and Eva, my girlfriend, licked the plate. Feel free to substitute what seeds, nuts or greens you have at hand, I simply used what was available in the cupboard.
WHITE ASPARAGUS, BROWN BUTTER DRESSING WITH TOASTED PUMPKIN SEEDS, LOVAGE, AND SORREL.
200 g salted butter
20 g Dijon mustard
30 g cherry blossom vinegar or apple cider vinegar
20 ml birch or maple syrup
2 pinches of sea salt
50 g olive oil
Black pepper
50 g table salt
10 white asparagus stalks
20 g lovage leaves (stalks removed)
20g sorrel leaves (stalks removed)
50 g toasted pumpkin seeds and chopped
Spring herbs and flowers such as garlic mustard, vetch, watercress, ramsons + flowers, cowslip flowers, cow parsley, hairy bitter cress and/or ground elder.
Method:
For the brown butter:
Place the butter in a large pot. This will feel a bit odd but when the butter melts and the milk solids react with the fat, it will begin to foam, and if your pot is too small it will spill over.
Bring the butter to a boil.
Continue to boil, whisking from time to time, until the milk solids begin to colour. You are aiming for a rich, dark caramelised colour. You may also get the aroma of toasted hazelnuts (this is why in French it is called beurre noisette).
When you reach a dark golden brown colour, transfer the butter to a clean pot or bowl to halt the cooking process. (you can strain the solids through a cheesecloth if you prefer, but this is optional).
For the dressing:
Place the mustard, vinegar, maple or birch syrup and sea salt in a bowl and whisk by hand for 30 seconds. While whisking, add a little of the brown butter in a thin stream.
As you add the butter, the mixture will slowly thicken and emulsify. Continue to add all of the butter and repeat the process with the olive oil. You want a consistency that coats the back of a spoon.
Taste and season with salt and black pepper.
Feel free to add a little more vinegar if required. If the vinaigrette is too thick, you can add a little warm water.
For the asparagus:
Fill a large pot with water and add roughly 50g of table salt. Bring to the boil.
Wash the asparagus in cold water and peel to remove the outer layer only.
Snap the base off - it will naturally snap at its woody point. You can trim the ends if you like.
Blanch the asparagus in the boiling water for 1-2 minutes until tender. You are now ready to dress.
Alternatively, a really nice way to cook asparagus is to barbecue it until golden.
For the chiffonade:
Remove the stalks from the lovage and sorrel.
Roll up both herbs together or separate, it’s much of a muchness. Now that the herbs are nicely rolled up, you can slice them into long thin strips known as a chiffonade.
To dress:
Place the warm asparagus in a bowl and season with a little salt. Add 3 tbsp of the vinaigrette to the bowl and toss well.
Transfer the asparagus to a warm serving plate.
Add the almonds to the remaining vinaigrette and spoon generously over the warm asparagus.
Place the chiffonade of herbs on top and dress with some of your wild herbs.
This is the perfect spring dish that works great as an accompaniment to grilled meats or fish but also doubles up as a great dinner with the addition of a poached egg or two. Toast up some leftover sourdough breadcrumbs in butter and scatter on top.
Thanks for getting saucy with us! Together, we’re growing our food community one newsletter at a time. For more content, check out the rest of the Ómós Digest. I look forward to reading your comments below.