The Asparagus Bed

Why do I feel so good?

I don't believe I've ever come out of the garden feeling worse. In fact, I think I can safely say that 99% of the time, I walk out of the garden feeling much, much better. It's true that my back might ache, the bugs can be vexing, and the work can be totally exhausting. What I mean is this: if I'm feeling anxious or ungrounded, spending even just an hour in the garden can fix that pretty much immediately. (Check out this great article about Why Gardening Makes You Happy and Cures Depression.) And after a long, cold winter, being in the dirt is exactly what I need. I never realize it when it has me in it's clutches, but I get into a stone cold funk starting about February. This year it was longer and deeper because our winter was longer and colder. But now, although it's still chilly and tempestuous, warm one hour, cold the next (no one really described April better than T.S. Eliot), it's still spring, and I'm out there in the dirt. Feeling much better, thank you.

Two trenches with dirt in the middle to gradually add back as the plants grow.

Yesterday, I spent a good while starting asparagus beds. I made trenches five inches deep (digging deeper reduces yields, or so I've read) and topped with two inches of soil and compost, to be hilled up as the asparagus grow. I'm not a huge fan of asparagus, otherwise I would have planted them five years ago when  we moved in. I am, however, a huge fan of my husband, who loves asparagus. So, I finally broke down and planted 16 Purple Passion asparagus plants. Not that digging is awful, but because digging on my particular soil is awful. I have the rockiest soil imaginable. I do believe unearthed a small quarry from my garden beds. Halfway through digging the deep trenches I started chanting: I will never have to do this again, I will never have to do this again. Because I won't. The asparagus will be fruitful for upwards of 25 years. And if they die? I'm not doing it again!

The perennial garden.

Now I have a huge perennial bed: a row of vigorous rhubarb, a strawberry patch, and now, asparagus. Did you notice that this bed isn't fenced in? It helps that it's right next to the road, by a dangerous curve, so the deer stay away. But deer don't eat rhubarb or asparagus (generally, although they've been known to surprise me!), and so far the strawberries have been unmolested. There's nothing nicer than having a garden that produces for years and years, after only planting once!

Asparagus Timbale

Back when I was just a baby--we're talking newly a teen--I worked at my friend's mother's restaurant, a gorgeous, classy, French restaurant, and that's where I fell in love with working in restaurants. That sounds like a weird thing to say, but it was outrageously adult and mysterious for a fourteen-year-old who was already bored with her surroundings. And to this day, when I walk into a restaurant from the kitchen entrance, I'm sort of transformed by the smell and look of it. It's totally different from eating at a restaurant, which I'm also fond of, but in an entirely different way. I've met a good deal of my closest friends working at restaurants. You are thrown in an intimate and pressured setting to perform art. It's theater! It's dance! It's not always pretty, but there can be some great times.

The restaurant was filled with interesting people, like Dawn, one of the cooks, who one day asked us to run to Soundtracks and pick up the new Loverboy album for her. I mean, she was cooking fine French food and went out late and rocked to Loverboy! Mind-boggling! Or Jerry, who taught me what a gimlet was. Of course, there were also new foods that blew my mind like Couer a la Creme and Asparagus Timbale. After purchasing some big and sturdy local asparagus, I decided to revisit the timbale.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease a glass pan--I used a 6 cup Pyrex dish.

2 1/2 cups of asparagus (cooked), onion (1 small), parsley (handful) chopped well in processor

4 T cream

2 ounces chevre

3 eggs

1/4 grated Parmesan

salt and pepper

Mix all well. Pour into pan. Put pan in a water bath. The bath should be level with the timbale. Bake about 40 minutes or so, until set nicely. You should cover the timbale with a greased piece of parchment paper. This recipe also works well with leftover pureed soups. Bread crumbs can be added to give more shape.

The timbale was so easy and perfect for asparagus that might not be so tender. I should have had a gimlet to complete the memory, but had a glass of wine instead. During the day, exasperated with the Lily of Valley taking over the front beds, I pulled a bunch, and stuck them in a bowl. They've been perfuming the living room ever since. A nuisance turned into something that's been making me happy all week!

We had the timbale with another perfect garden salad, and grilled turkey that I marinated with kimchi brine---a wonderful tip gleaned from Peter's cookblog at Qui Si Mangia Bene, who always has great things going on, whether it's his original artistic cooking, or sharp witty writing, or beautiful baking. I say gleaned because you can't just visit and run away with a tip. You've got to work for it a little, but it's always worth it.

Working in a restaurant, working for the weekend, working for a tip. There are some good things about work, you know?

Roasted Ramp Stuffed Trout with Asparagus Salad

I keep this blog as a food journal so I remember what I did, but there are some things that just happen and probably won't again. I subscribe to the haphazard "what do I have on hand" way of cooking. This whole trout stuffed with a few ramps, olive oil, salt, pepper and lemon was roasted for twenty minutes in a 375 degree oven. The salad was fresh, local asparagus shaved thin, tossed with fava beans, garden radishes and chives, olive oil, pepper and ume vinegar. Topped with some local chevre and more olive oil. Goodness!