Cultivating Patience

No other vegetable requires faith in its culture the way asparagus does, and I think it is fair to say that no vegetable can possibly inspire hope in the same way. To plant an asparagus patch is to engage in an act of patience for repeated but fleeting joy in the spring, and each bite, each bursting of a solid spear through the soil, leads us to hope that everything could be so good, so reliable, so in-its-place.

Asparagus roots arrive two full years before any expected harvest. We set the fleshy roots, radiating octopus-like from the meager bud of an asparagus spear, in a foot-deep trench in the field on the hill west of the house on a cold day in early April, nestling the sandy crowns in the cold soil. A crew of a dozen volunteers from Luther College planted eight thousand roots in exchange for our perspective on organic food and farming, arriving at the end of the project flush from unaccustomed labor. Slowly, as the spears emerged from the soil along with the weeds, we filled in the trenches and cultivated the tender stalks, picking nothing, waiting.

We left the asparagus ferns standing over the winter to catch the blowing snow. At three feet tall, brown and oxidized, they must have looked like the worst weed mess the neighbors had ever seen. In the spring, we mowed the fronds as soon as the soil dried enough to drive on it. Weeds germinated and sprouted where we had failed to eradicate them, and we rototilled oh-so-shallow over the top to knock them back. One day in late April, the asparagus poked its head through the crusty soil—not one spear, but all of the spears on the same day. We picked it once, and left the plants to grow and feed their roots for another year while we weeded, tended, and waited.

In this, our fifth year with these plants living deep in the ground, we again mowed the stalks, tilled the weeds, and waited for spring’s truest vegetable to shine forth. And again, from bare soil and seeming nothingness—just a little bit of faith that something actually remained underneath that crust of soil—the asparagus sprang forth in flavorful, magnificent abundance. Is it possible that, just this once, everything in our world could be so good, so reliable, so in-its-place—shining briefly when we need it, marching solidly on through heat and drought, gathering snow through the winter, and shining magnificently again, just when we need it the most?

Farm Happenings

Weather: Our world finally dried out enough to get in the field on Saturday. Rain again Saturday night kicked us back out, but we made it in again on Monday after a morning frost, and under a threat of Tuesday rain that failed to materialize. Wednesday dawned cool, clear, and beautiful.

Farm Activities: We transplanted beets, fennel, chard, parsley, scallions, and mini onions. We finally finished transplanting our large shallot crop on Wednesday afternoon. Chris worked late Monday and Tuesday to field cultivate the quack grass out of some land that we rented three miles to the south of us. We had hoped to plant that ground this year to cash crops, but last August’s rains really hampered our ability to eliminate the perennial weeds, and we are taking things on a wait-and-see basis. Kim and Lucas conspired to make time for Chris to cultivate some barely-germinated weeds in the first onions we planted out about ten days ago. We mowed and tilled under several crops of winter rye and hairy vetch, which we grow as a cover crop. Chris got very excited about the pink nodules on the hairy vetch roots, which provide a home for the nitrogen-fixing bacteria.

Comings and Goings: Chef Justin Sardina, from Decorah’s La Rana bistro, joined our crew on our part-time basis.

In Kim's Kitchen

Roman emperors maintained special fleets of ships to gather and carry the choicest spears of Asparagus to the emperor, but our refrigerated truck will have to do here in the Upper Midwest. I think there is no higher treatment for asparagus than to grill it over medium heat until just barely tender; barring a grill, I would either broil it or steam it to the same specifications. Emperor Caesar Augustus described "haste" to his underlings as being "quicker than you can cook asparagus”; be hasty, and don’t overcook it! Is there a finer spring vegetable?

Asparagus Toasts

15 or so thin slices of good French bread
3/4 lb of Asparagus cut into 1/2 inch pieces
2 Tablespoons olive oil
Good salt (sea salt or a nice course Sciclian salt
Balsamic vinegar
Parmesan cheese thinly sliced ( one or two slices for each toast) I use a vegetable peeler.
Fresh ground pepper

Preheat oven to 400. Place the bread on a baking sheet. Put in the oven to lightly toast, turning over to toast both sides. Set aside. Toss the asparagus with the olive oil and salt. Spread in one layer on a baking pan. Roast in oven until tender about 10 minutes. Place a scoop of the asparagus on each slice of bread, sprinkle with a few drops of balsamic vinegar, place a slice or two of cheese on top and grind some pepper on it. Return to the oven for 5 more minutes until cheese melts. Serve warm.

Raw Asparagus Salad

Spinach, lettuce or arugula
½-pound fresh asparagus spears
2 tablespoons good olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
Zest of a lemon
Salt & pepper to taste

Wash and tear the greens. Wash the asparagus well, especially the tips Snap off the woody ends and discard. Line up the tips of as many asparagus as you can manage, cut off the tips. Cut the asparagus in tiny bits, maybe 1/8 or 1/4 inch lengths. Whisk the olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt & pepper, lemon zest Stir in the asparagus. Toss the asparagus with the greens. Serve immediately.

Looking somewhat like scallions—or maybe more like little leeks—garlic greens are one of our favorite spring vegetables. Well, maybe all of the spring vegetables are our favorite spring vegetables! Their flavor relates to that of mature garlic the way scallions relate to mature onions, and you can use them just as you would scallions. They pair especially nicely with sautéed asparagus.

Garlic Green Vinaigrette

1 garlic green
4 Tbsp red wine vinegar
1/3 cup olive oil
Salt and pepper

Finely chop the garlic green. Put it in a small bowl with the vinegar and salt. Stir and let the mixture sit for 10 to 30 Minutes. Whisk in the olive oil. Serve over Rock Spring Farm spinach.

Baby Bok Choi and Red Oak Lettuce continue to grow on in the greenhouse. With Wednesday’s sun, maybe we’ll get lucky and things will really size up for next week. Red Russian Kale has re-grown nicely, and a second crop has come in. We’ll use plenty of this in stir-fries this week, maybe sauté a little with some chopped Garlic Greens, and probably throw some ribbons in a salad as well.

Bok Choi over Rice

Some precooked rice
1 Cup asparagus stems, 1 inch pieces
1 Cup copped bok choi
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 carrots, sliced thin
salt
1 cup broth, chicken or vegetable
1 Tablespoon fresh garlic, chopped

Heat the oil. When hot, add the asparagus, bok choi, carrots and salt. Cook for 5 minutes. Add the broth and simmer for 5 more minutes. Toss in the garlic and serve over the rice.

We heat one of our three greenhouses all winter in order to keep our substantial crop of Rosemary alive, but it doesn’t really take off until the days get longer. Native to the Mediterranean, rosemary is a member of the mint family, just like nettles, lavender, and basil. Sprigs of rosemary were thrown into graves by the ancient Greeks and Romans to signify their desire to remember the dead; students also wore sprigs of herbs in their hair when the studied (why didn’t anybody ever tell me useful things like this when I was in school?). The pungent, piney flavor goes well with poultry, fish, lamb, beef, and game, as well as most full-flavored mushrooms. It’s really hard to go wrong with this one.

We may have harvested the last of the overwintered spinach this week. We decided to till under a significant portion of the patch due to extreme weed pressure from chickweed, shepherd’s purse, and dandelion – all edible weeds and quite tasty, but not as desirable to most folks as spinach. The leaves of this week’s spinach are quite a bit bigger than last week, because we only plant this crop once in the fall, and just keep harvesting in the spring.

Spring Omelets

6 eggs
2 garlic greens, chopped
4 oz about 2 cups spinach, chopped
Grated cheese or goat cheese
Olive oil

Whip the eggs thoroughly. Sauté garlic greens and spinach together until garlic is soft and spinach is wilted. Heat oil in a pan over medium heat. Add a scant 1/2 cup of egg to the pan, lifting the edges of the omelet with a fork as the egg cooks. When all is an even consistency, place the filling and cheese on the bottom half and fold the omelet in half, forming a half-moon shape.

We pulled more onions and beets out of the walk-in cooler this week, reminders of last fall. I find it interesting that the beets were harvested at about the same time as the garlic greens were planted last fall!