Edna Lewis’s Skillet Asparagus
Read more on asparagus—and on matching it with wine—after the recipe.
From Edna Lewis at saveur.com, adapted from her book “The Taste of Country Cooking.” Serves 4-6.
Ingredients
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 pounds asparagus, fibrous bottoms cut off
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Directions
In a large skillet set over medium heat, melt the butter. When the foam subsides, add the asparagus and shake the pan to coat the spears. Cover and cook, shaking occasionally, until bright green but still crisp, about 3 minutes.
Uncover and continue cooking until the asparagus is tender when pierced with the tip of a knife, 5-10 minutes more (the thicker the spears, the longer the cook time). Season to taste with salt and black pepper.
Edna Lewis’s Skillet Asparagus prepared and photographed by Bill St. John
The other day, I was reading in Pliny the Elder’s “The Natural History” (yeah, I know …) what he wrote in praise about the asparagus of Ravenna, Italy, especially how large it was—“when highly-manured, weighing three pounds”—in contradistinction to how we might seek out pencil-thin stalks for our cooking.
And none “highly-manured.”
What is it with this wondrous harbinger of spring that we have prized it for millennia and eat it so ravenously?
It’s botanical name, asparagus officinalis, suggests one reason. In ancient days, the “officina” was the storehouse of a monastery where the monks kept medicines. “Eat your asparagus,” meant “Take your meds.”
It costs a lot, even when abundant, as it is in spring, because it is difficult to cultivate. It grows in and on mounds of soil that are not productive for two years. It then enjoys solid growth for another two years, and then flags in output for a final two years. In other words, an asparagus farmer works about half time for nothing. It’s like selling Christmas trees. (Plus it must be hand-harvested.)
Germans, Belgians, and many French enjoy it white, rather than green, achieved by disallowing the shoots to see sunlight out of their mounds. I remember once downing an entire plateful of “spargal” - its German name - steamed and slathered with no more than salt and drawn butter and burping (happily) for hours.
Asparagus is commonly eaten cooked, but especially the tender tips may be eaten raw. I lightly peel the bottom half of green or purple asparagus stems—I don’t care how thick or thin they are; all of them—before cooking them. I like the pale green, almost iridescent color.
Some notes on wine and asparagus: Eating asparagus is about as close as we get to dine as do the ruminants, most hoofed animals and that great natural lawn mower, the sheep. Asparagus is a grass, after all; just take a good look at it. Unlike the cow, however, we get to enjoy wine with our asparagus—but there’s the rub.
Asparagus is difficult for wine in two ways. It’s natively bitter, first of all, and all foods bitter are hard on wine. Moreover, it’s very high in the chemicals phosphorous and the sulphurous compound methyl mercaptan, neither a friend to wine (or the, er, urinary tract). Both chemicals can interact with wine to cause a tinny, metallic taste on the palate.
So what wines to enjoy with asparagus? Take a cue from the Germans, who each spring devour their beloved spargal with their crisp, refreshing, high-acid Rieslings and Sylvaners.
The wines to favor with asparagus, by and large, are these: high in acidity, either white or red (but white wins over red, as a rule; low in alcohol; and very fresh and young. Such include those Germans; northern Italian whites such as Arneis or Soave; Spanish Albariño; dry and medium-dry Vouvray or Muscadet from the Loire; some Pinot Noirs from cooler climates (Oregon, Burgundy); South African Steen (that country’s word for Chenin Blanc); top-notch Italian Verdicchio or Orvieto; good Italian Barbera; good Gamay (from America or Beaujolais); Piemontese Grignolino; and many Rioja reds.
Stay away from blockbuster or overly manipulated, oaky, high-alcohol wines (many Chardonnays, Cabernet Sauvignons, Syrahs and Merlots). They truly will taste awful with asparagus.