Of Bears, Opossums, Asapargus and pH

What with the confrontation between dogs and bears and the opossums eating the chickens, it was a very busy week for farmer Lee Hauter.

An unholy row forced Lee out of bed one night. A bear he recognized from last fall apparently had risen from its long hibernation and approached the farm looking very skinny and hungry. Lee's two big Pyrenees dogs, fierce defenders of the property, rushed to inform the bear he was not welcome.

Fortunately, dogs and the bear were separated by a fence. After some fierce gnashing of teeth and viscious snarling, the bear departed back into the woods.

Then on Friday night Leigh awoke from a dream in which raccoons were eating his chickens. He shook it off and went back to sleep. But now he regrets not following his inner voice. That night with all the rain a section of the movable electric fence that surrounds one of his chicken broods collapsed. Opossums--not raccoons--took advantage and killed five of Leigh's chickens.

Wait. Opossums eat chickens?

"You can tell it was opossums," Leigh said, "because they suck the innards right out."

Good to know.

Besides these flirtations with the wild animal kingdom, Leigh did have some business to take care of--like the hoop houses that needed building, and bees that needed feeding, the 600 asparagus roots that needed planting, the 300 raspberry brambles that arrived and the 100 horseradish roots.

I was particularly interested to hear about the asparagus because my wife and I have our eyes on a patch of yard where we plan to put our own asparagus. Of course Leigh works on a much larger scale. About four years ago he planted 1,500 roots for Bull Run Farm's CSA subscribers. The 600 he ordered this year were meant to replace some plants that had been lost in the intervening years.

For the asparagus, Leigh pulls a bottom plow behind his tractor creating a trench about 10 inches deep. In the past he would toss horse manure into the trench and lay the asparagus roots on top. Asparagus can also be grown from seeds. But most growers prefer to buy the root stock. It takes about three years for the asparagus roots to become firmly established before you start harvesting the delicious stems.

Horse manure sounded familiar. That's precisely what my wife had proposed to do: dig a big hole and fill it with horse manure to rot while the asparagus was establishing itself. But Leigh says his grower now advises very firmly against horse manure or even compost until the asparagus is actually growing. Leigh says the issue is creating a soil that is too acid. Asparagus prefers a pH in the range of 7 to 7.2. So instead of tossing horse manure into the trench he added some bone meal.

"Bone meal is more expensive than lime," Leigh said. "But I'm going for the extra nutrition."

Leigh said that over the years he's become especially aware of his soil's pH. A soil's pH--a measure of less than seven indicating acidity, more than 7 indicating alkalinity--governs a plant's ability to take up nutrients through its roots. Some plants, such as blueberries and potatoes, like an acid soil. Other plants, such as cabbage and other brassicas, prefer a more alkaline soil. Most vegetables, in fact, prefer a soil that is slightly acid--somewhere in the range of 6.5 to 7.

"I test the soil around the farm all the time," Leigh said. "I'm a lot more concerned than I used to be."

What really focused Leigh on soil pH was a particular field on his farm that never seemed to perform up to par. No matter what he planted there, the yields were never good. "It always seemed to look parched," Leigh said. Finally he sent some of the soil off for analysis and learned that it was too acid. The lab gave him a specific recommendation for how much lime to add to balance the acid.

After that, Leigh stopped at the farm supply and purchased his own pH measuring tool. "I spent a couple hundred bucks on it," Leigh said. Apparently, that would be $200 well spent.

Kids Make Cream of Asparagus Soup

The idea of seasonality is not an easy one for young children to grasp. I'm hoping repetition will leave an impression. So this week we returned to the subject of asparagus in my "food appreciation classes." And who could possibly object to eating fresh asparagus again and again and again?

Children are fascinated by asparagus spears. In this week's lesson we read a picture book--"How Groundhog's Garden Grew"--that contained a surprising amount of good information about cultivating vegetables, including my favorite aparagus attribute: it is a perennial plant whose gnarly roots continue to produce spears for 15 years or more with very little maintenance.

Previously the kids learned how to poach asparagus and incorporate it into a frittata. This week we aimed to turn our asparagus into a creamy yet healthy soup. The recipe is extremely simple.

First the kids snapped off the tough ends off 1 1/2 pounds of asparagus. Then, using their platsic knives, they cut the spears into 1/2-inch pieces that we cooked until very tender in 4 cups (1 quart) of chicken broth. (You could also use vegetable broth for this to make a vegetarian soup.)

Meanwhile, we trimmed and cleaned a large leek. The kids were not familiar with leeks, so I cut off a piece and passed it around for them to smell. They noticed immediately a resemblance to onion. Leeks, onions, garlic, chives--they are all in the allium family. This time of year, we would be on the lookout for wild leeks--or ramps--to be foraged in area forests. They are delicious sauteed, and unlike cultivated leeks, you can eat the green parts.

To prepare the leek, I show the kids how to trim away the dark green parts. They are tough and inedible. Then I split the leek down the middle lengthwise from a point about 1/2 inch from the root end. The leek flops open, allowing us to rinse it thoroughly under cold running water and wash away any of the dirt that might be hiding between the layers.

We slice the leek fairly finely, season it with 1/2 teaspoon salt and saute it in a skillet over low heat with two or three tablespoons of extra-virgin olive until very soft. This takes about 12 minutes.

After we read our story, we return to the kitchen and scrape the leeks into the sauce pan with the asparagus and broth. In three separate batches, we process the broth and vegetables in a blender with 1/2 cup plain, non-fat Greek yogurt (or substitute conventional yogurt). Since the liquid is still hot, I show the kids how to avoid a burn by placing a kitchen towel over the lid of the blender. I hold the lid firmly in place with the towel. We don't want our soup to end up on the ceiling!

We pour the finished soup into a bowl after each batch, stir in a squeeze of lemond juice and finally ladle it into hot drink cups. The soup has cooled somewhat by now and could even be served room temperature.

Our asparagus soup is full of flavor but low in fat and calories. Funny how some of the kids who swore they would not like this soup are practically inhaling it. Some are even begging for seconds. Good thing we made enough.

Kids Make Asparagus Frittata

Asparagus has a special place in the heart of the vegetable gardener. Being a perenniel, asparagus needs only to be planted once. Then, without much additional care, it will produce an abundance of lovely, fresh spears of asparagus year after year--for 15 years or more.

Kids, it turns out, love asparagus as well. They like to look at it's funny, spear-like shape. They like to hold it. They like to snap off the ends. And they like to saw it into pieces with their plastic knives.

Asparagus has a flavor unique in the world of vegetables and, as anyone who has eaten it knows, asparagus also has a lasting effect that shows up in a strange, odiferous way later in the bathroom. According to food authority Harold McGee, humans metabolize a sulfur-conatining substance--aspargusic acid--a chemical closely related to the essence of skunk spray, methanethiol. Because of genetic variations, not all people produce methanethiol, but most do. Kids just giggle when you mention it. But for adults, it's always a comfort to know you can tell when spring has arrived by the smell of your pee.

Making an asparagus frittata is so quick and easy I decided we should prepare asparagus two ways in our classes this week. First we cooked whole spears using my favorite method--poaching them in a large skillet filled with simmering, salted water.

I showed the kids how to find the tough part of the asparagus stem by bending it until it snaps. After we trimmed all the asparagus, we cooked it until there was just a tiny bit of resistance to the tooth. The cooked asparagus are plunged immediately into a bath of cold water, then are drained on paper towels. We dressed the asparagus in a red wine-mustard vinaigrette. They very quickly disappeared.

For the frittata, we used 12 eggs and my big, non-stick skillet. But the procedure is the same for a smaller frittata. Grease the skillet lightly and begin heating it on the stove. Meanwhile, beat the eggs well.

For a six-egg frittata, have four spears of asparagus on hand, cooked and cut into 3/4-inch pieces. Reserve the asparagus tips. Scatter the asparagus pieces in the skillet, then pour in the eggs. As the eggs cook on the bottom, lift around the edges with a heat-proof spatula so that the uncooked egg runs underneath. Continue this process until the egg is almost completely cooked. Arrange the asparagus tips on top, then set the skillet under the broiler to finish cooking.

The frittata is done when it is golden brown and rises to about twice its original size. To serve, cut the frittata into wedges, drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and dress with grated Parmesan cheese. Consider serving it warm for breakfast or dinner, or as a room-temperatur appetizer or at the center of a composed salad. It also makes a dramatic display item on a Sunday brunch buffet, set on a ceramic stand and garnished with mustard blossoms.

Asparagus with Spring Vinaigrette & Arugula Blossoms

It's that time of year again. I was working in the Washington Youth Garden on Tuesday and Chris, the garden manager, urged me to try some of the asparagus that is beginning to poke through the soil.

There's hardly anything better than snapping off an asparagus spear right out of the garden and eating it raw on the spot. It's like biting into a tree-ripened green apple--fresh and crisp. The asparagus flavor is there, but also a tenderness you don't get from the store-bought version, something like fresh peas.

Anyway, you probably would never think of eating asparagus raw--unless it was picked 10 seconds ago. The asparagus you find in the store is probably a week old at least, most likely shipped from California. Some is much older: You can tell from the way it begins to wrinkle and the color starts to fade. At that point, best to take a pass.

Asparagus is one of the edibles to shake off winter and emerge from the spring thaw. Our farmer friend Mike has rows and rows of it planted at his place in Prince George's County, south of Washington. I would suspect he'll be harvesting and marketing his soon. The beauty of asparagus is, it's a perennial plant. Once the root stock is planted in the ground and established--around year three--it comes back year after year, producing for 15 years or more. You have to love that if you're a vegetable gardener.

There are many ways to cook asparagus. The classic method is to tie a bunch in a bundle and cook it in simmering water. The latest fad is to roast or grill asparagus. I'm not a big fan. The flavor of asparagus is so singular, so ephemeral and full of expectation, I think cooking it too aggressively ruins it. Asparagus wants to be treated more gently, with more respect.

I prefer to poach mine gently in salted water in an iron skillet. I don't bother tying the stalks together. I just slice off the bottom two inches or so--where the bright green color begins to fade--then slide them into the skillet just as the water is coming to a boil. I like this method because I can monitor the cooking process closely. I use a metal trussing skewer to test for doneness, aiming for just of bit of resistance to the tooth, or al dente. If I think we're close, I'll remove one of the stalks with my spring-loaded tongs and cut off a bit to taste. Since the stalks are of various thickness, I can begin removing the thinner ones first, dropping them into a cold water bath in the sink.

Once the asparagus is cooked and chilled, I lay them all out on paper towels and pat them dry.

You can dress the asparagus any way you like. Or use it as an ingredient in another dish, such as an egg casserole or frittata. One of my favorite treatments came from the original Silver Palette cookbook years ago--asparagus with blueberry vinaigrette. Of course, you bought the Silver Palate brand of blueberry vinegar back when it was readily available in stores. I just did a Google search and see there is a Silver Palate website with products for sale, but the only vinegars listed are raspberry and Balsamic. Too bad.

I tossed the finished asparagus gently with some honey-mustard vinaigrette I had in the refrigerator. The arugula and other brassica greens are going to seed in the garden. They're making great sprays of yellow and white flowers, perfect for garnishing a platter of asparagus.

Is it Asparagus Yet?

I admit, I am not always the best prepared when it comes to putting lesson plans together. Today I realized I had classes to teach, but pressures on the rest of my schedule had prevented me from doing the usual due diligence.

I looked around the produce section for inspiration and what did I see? Asparagus, of course. It's just barely in season in this part of the world. In fact, I paid a visit to the Washington Youth Garden at the National Arboretum this morning and was handed a fresh spear snapped right out of the ground. I bit into it and immediately tasted that grassy, pea-like flavor that is so much more subtle, greener, more garden-like, than the flavor of cooked asparagus. Also much fresher and crisper than store-bought asparagus that has typically been a week or more on the road before you buy it. (The produce man will continually snip off the browned ends to make the asparagus appear fresher.)

I don't mean to rant about asparagus, only to remind people that it is, after all, a vegetable that comes out of the ground. In fact, it is a wonderful vegetable if only in the sense that it is a perennial, meaning it comes back year after year-- often for 10 to 20 years, as asparagus is a long-lived plant. You simple bury a "crown" in light, well-drained soil with plenty of sun. Don't harvest at all the first year and only a little the second year. By the third year you can pick as much as you want.

Asparagus is the first spring vegetable ready for harvest. At peak season, it will be growing like mad. You may be picking it every day just to keep up. At the tip of the stem--or "spear"--is a bud that will blossom into a willowy display of lacelike foliage that seems to be in a state of absolute riot. Otherwise we eat as much as we can, usually poached or steamed, although some cooks have taken to broiling or grilling asparagus. I don't see much sense in cooking asparagus to death or burning it over hot coals. The flavor is so ephemeral, so singular and elusive, it should be allowed to speak for itself, without so much interference, I think.

Anyway, I spotted the asparagus display at the local Whole Foods and that became my lesson plan. The asparagus and some eggs to make a quick frittata, the Italian idea of an open-faced omelet.

This is such an easy dish, I'm almost ashamed to admit I constructed a whole class around it. But the kids were ecstatic. They were begging for more.

First, poach a bunch of asparagus in salted water until they are just tender. I know some chefs like to tie the asparagus in bundles and cook it in a stock pot. But I've been most successful cooking asparagus in shallow water, say a skillet of water brought to boil. The spears are not agitated so much this way and I can hover over them, picking them out of the water with a pair of tongs at the very moment they are cooked through.

Plunge the cooked spears into a bowl of cold water to stop the cooking. Drain and blot the asparagus dry on paper towels. Do the same thing with some baby potatoes cut into quarters.

Cut the asparagus into 1/2-inch pieces. Over moderately-high heat, heat a large non-stick skillet and coat the bottom with extra-virgin olive oil. Place the cooked potatoes in the bottom of the skillet. After they begin to sizzle, toss once or twice. Add the aspargus. Then pour in 12 beaten eggs seasoned with salt and pepper.

(You can use regular, store-bought eggs for this. But try pasture-raised eggs sometime from a local farmer or farmer's market. The yolks have a much deeper, saffron color to them that infuses the whole dish. Only chickens that forage on greens in the pasture, ingesting all that beta-carotene, lay eggs like this. We get them with our farm subscription.)

Use a heat-proof spatula to work around the edges of the egg as it begins to cook, lifting the edge here and there and tilting the skillet so the uncooked egg runs underneath. When nearly all of the egg is cooked through, crumble goat cheese and then chopped chives over the whole thing, then place under the broiler for a few minutes, or until the frittata has puffed up and is well-browned around the edges. (Another method is to flip the frittata in the pan like a pancake. But I don't recommend this for beginners unless you like to eat your eggs off the floor.) Keep an eye on it so it doesn't burn. It will make a mighty impressive sight.

Remove the frittata from the oven. Use the spatula to loosen the edges of the frittata and slide the whole thing--tipping the skillet until the pie begins to slide away--onto a large cutting board. Slice into 10 or 12 good wedges and serve either warm as is, with a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil, or room temperature with a fresh, green salad.

I'm not making this up: The kids were begging for seconds. "It looks just like pizza!" they screamed when I brought the frittata to the table.

If you don't have asparagus, you can make a frittata like this with almost anything. This time of year, I also like to make a frittata with canned roasted red peppers and sauteed red onion and marinated artichokes dusted with pecorino cheese. It's delicious with a glass of nicely chilled Chablis. .