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| Vegan maple-tahini dressing adorns the Queen of Spring: Asparagus. |
The Queen of Spring
Spring here in BoHo infused West Hollywood means trading in your Uggs for flip-flops. And hurtling downhill on your skateboard past midnight, apparently. For four nights in a row now I've been startled awake by the rolling wheels of wild ones zooming past our bedroom window in the wee small hours of the morning. I suspect they are taggers, or teenage paparazzi on the hunt for misbehaving Melrose prey (there have been more helicopters lately). Sleep has been edgy and restless. The season of change is afoot. Or rather on a roll.
Spring here in BoHo infused West Hollywood means trading in your Uggs for flip-flops. And hurtling downhill on your skateboard past midnight, apparently. For four nights in a row now I've been startled awake by the rolling wheels of wild ones zooming past our bedroom window in the wee small hours of the morning. I suspect they are taggers, or teenage paparazzi on the hunt for misbehaving Melrose prey (there have been more helicopters lately). Sleep has been edgy and restless. The season of change is afoot. Or rather on a roll.
Which in an odd and sleep-deprived way, brings me to asparagus.
It's a welcome signal of warmer days (and nights!) when those bundles of slender green stalks are back, standing tall in elegant rows at the local market. Erect, perky little beauties.
My deep and abiding craving for asparagus is surprising for someone who never tendered a single bite of fresh asparagus until my third decade here on planet Earth. Yes, you read that right. Three decades. I admit it.
My deep and abiding craving for asparagus is surprising for someone who never tendered a single bite of fresh asparagus until my third decade here on planet Earth. Yes, you read that right. Three decades. I admit it.
I was anti-asparagus.
In my own defense, I must mention, in full transparency, that the only asparagus I was served in childhood was from a can. A CAN.
And Darling! If you've never had the non-pleasure of noshing said limp and stringy excuse for a such a brilliant vegetable, I am here to assure you, it was tinny, flaccid, and disgusting with a capital D (and in full disclosure, it ended up buried deep inside my paper napkin, doomed for the garbage pail as soon as the parental and familial accomplices to this vegetable horror were occupied elsewhere, tuning into the Lawrence Welk Show
).
).But now? I could eat asparagus till the grass fed cows come home.
I could chomp, night and day. Happy as a Green Goddess in vegetable heaven. Can you overdose on asparagus? I hope not. Because I'm indulging every chance I get.
It's been a long, root vegetable-centric winter.
I could chomp, night and day. Happy as a Green Goddess in vegetable heaven. Can you overdose on asparagus? I hope not. Because I'm indulging every chance I get.
It's been a long, root vegetable-centric winter.
For my first asparagus of the season I wanted a simple, fresh recipe- nothing complicated. And nothing roasted, because I've been roasting vegetables all winter long. And although my favorite way to cook asparagus is to roast it with olive oil and and garlic- like this Sexy Spring Pasta Recipe with Roasted Asparagus- this time I craved a super easy, super simple presentation.
I just barely cooked it, simmering it briefly in a scant amount of water until it turned bright green. Tender-crisp is the goal (think mushy, canned, and go for the opposite).
Then I whipped up a simple dressing with sesame tahini and pure maple syrup, and sprinkled some coarse sea salt over it. Vegan heaven. On a plate. And did I mention?
Then I whipped up a simple dressing with sesame tahini and pure maple syrup, and sprinkled some coarse sea salt over it. Vegan heaven. On a plate. And did I mention?
Not a single Lawrence Welk
bubble in sight.
bubble in sight.
