Price Upon Request #21: Everything's Coming Up Asparagus
Ode to the only vegetable that grows standing up.
As I write this I realize I was supposed to have landed in Milan two hours ago, but having cancelled my trip last minute I am, instead, sitting on the upper east side watching the mist outside ambivalently try to decide whether or not it wants to become rain. To ward off my percolating regret I willed myself to think about the exciting things happening here. Then I remembered asparagus made its first appearance at the farmer’s market this week. Finally, some good news.
To me, asparagus is one of those true signs and flavors of spring, the tulip of the vegetable kingdom. Sadly, I also think it is kind of the underdog of the spring vegetables–ramps, peas, and rhubarb usually taking the podium. And it really isn’t doing itself any favors with the whole asparagusic acid making your pee smell insane thing. That said, there is still something remarkable about the humble asparagus. Their striking profile is somehow both silly and deeply serious. I also happen to love the way they just pop out of the ground, almost like cartoons, or razor clams, if you’ve ever seen those horrifying videos of people pouring salt on the sand to lure the razor clams up to the surface in an almost whack-a-mole type fashion. Chilling, and yet, captivating.
One of my favorite seasonal pastimes is making minimalist nicoise-esque salads where asparagus plays a Principal Role. I had to see a Gastroenterologist last April, and he asked me what a Normal Weeknight Meal looked like for me, and I had no choice but to show him the following photo. He said it was the first time he had been rendered speechless by a response to that question.
This year, I look forward to expanding my repertoire and perfecting my formalist salads, putting my architecture degree to further good use. Should you not share this same proclivity for arranging architectural appetizers, here are 6 asparagus plates that will do the work for you.
Great for a Rite of Spring themed dinner party, something I am confused I’ve never been to.
If plates feel too two-dimensional, this is a more dynamic approach to asparagus service. It actually drains the asparagus, letting any excess moisture drip onto the tray. More than just a pretty face.
A slightly more humble asparagus plate, but I like the shade of green on the tips.
I see your cabbageware and raise you ceramic asparagus purse on a tray. Much more sculptural, this one also keeps the asparagus warm with its lid. I love that the handle is a bent asparagus within the bunch.
If you don’t want to cause a scene, but still want magic among your white porcelain tablescape, allow me to recommend this monochrome approach to the asparagus purse.
I get it. Asparagus isn’t for everyone. If you admire them from afar, but refuse to take part in eating them, I love the idea of these ceramic asparagus sitting on a plate as far away from a kitchen as your apartment will allow.
Rendering your Gastroenterologist speechless is the goal of good design, I think