ASPARAGUS in 500 words

Close-up photo of the spear-tip heads of a bunch of asparagus.

Asparagus

A SPRINGTIME BOUQUET

Not that long ago, asparagus and alliums such as onions and garlic were all thought to be members of the lily family. Being a bit of an autodidact, I like knowing little pieces of information. I like the low-key notion of how a bunch of asparagus resembles a small springtime bouquet; I like the hope and joy of ephemeral gifts.

Modern genetics has corrected this centuries-old “fact.” Alliums, lilies, and asparagus are now known to be their own unique families. What's the point of learning something if I have to relearn it? There's already so much I don't know and won't ever know in our world. Can't I have this one thing be true and constant?

The most significant change in asparagus in the last century hasn't been mapping the Asparagaceae genome or the introduction of a high-yield varietal—our expectations about both asparagus and seasonal produce have been changed by international trade and alterations in transportation. A once highly seasonal crop is now available most of the year. It's shipped from South America in the fall through Christmas, Mexico in the winter, and California long before Pacific Northwest farmers harvest their crop.

The expansion of asparagus' availability from a short-lived delight into a produce staple has its own transformative powers. For asparagus grown on a large scale, the varieties are selected for their ability to withstand the rigors of time and travel. For the price of near-ubiquity in the produce section, we accept woody, bitter asparagus instead of a seasonal treat that arrives before berries and stays around until apricots appear to feed our need to taste something sweet after winter's long months. Taste, flavor, and texture are all traded for the ability to ship asparagus to far-away markets.

Close-up photo of a bunch of fresh alliums in a wicker basket.

Alliums

SMALL PLEASURES

The world is an anxious place, eating vegetables shouldn’t fuel this unease. Still, I worry about what happens when we get unmoored from nature. About the drift that happens when we change our expectations. Concern about what happens when a treat isn't a treat anymore, especially when joy and small pleasures become so important in this chaotic world.

Updated genetic mapping, extended availability, and changing tastes mean nothing when locally-grown asparagus is in season. In a world where knowledge is in flux and our understanding of yesterday's facts constantly needs updating, maybe the enduring truth we all need is the knowledge of a dozen spears sitting on a thick slice of pan-fried bread, topped with a poached egg, butter, coarse sea salt, and thin slices of Parmesan will be good. Every. Time. 

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