Diary of a Shopkeeper, 13th April
Serving suggestion…
Lighter days, dancing daffodils, fields of hares cavorting… There are many signs that spring is here. For me the surest and happiest sign is the arrival of Orkney asparagus.
Several years ago, I mentioned in this column how I look forward to the arrival of British asparagus every April. I wrote that, although it’s available all year round, flown in from Peru, I don’t like to buy the imported version. For one thing, the carbon footprint of flying vegetables to Europe from South America is horrendous. My own business does involve some goods imported from the Americas and Australasia – though mostly Europe – but not when I can get exactly the same product closer to home. Which brings me to my second reason, British asparagus tastes better and has a less fibrous texture than the Peruvian version. Who knows, maybe Peruvian asparagus is amazing if you’re eating it, freshly cut, in the Ica Valley south of Lima, where most of it is grown. But after weeks’ travelling to get here, it’s lost a lot of its appeal.
There are 5,000-year-old Ancient Egyptian friezes that show asparagus being eaten, but it’s the Romans who cultivated it widely for the first time. No doubt they took it west and north as their empire spread. There was a word for it in Old English – eorðnafela, meaning literally ‘earth navel’ – so it must still have been eaten at least occasionally after the Romans left and before the French Normans arrived. But it wasn’t grown widely in England until the sixteenth century, and in Scotland some time after that. The earliest written record is in John Reid’s book The Scots Gard’ner, published in 1683:
Of Sallads and Pot Herbs, they choiceft Sallad is Asparagus: Sow its seeds in March, good Ground, and that Tim twelve Months tranfplant into an exceeding rich and well mixed Ground of rotted Dung and light Earth. You may ftretch lines longft and crofs the Beds, and mark with the Edge of the Rule, then gather little Huts of Earth at the Croffings.
Whether that’s still considered the best way to cultivate the crop I have no idea, but luckily our lovely customer Jane Cooper – also a Boreray sheep expert – knows everything. Jane coaxes emerald-green, straight-stalked, deliciously tender asparagus from her West Mainland small holding. Having read my column a few years ago, and learned about my love for the stuff, she brings in little bags of it two or three times during the season. It’s one of the great perks of the job. I came back from a delivery a few days ago to find a small plastic bag of Jane’s asparagus waiting for me. To say I was immediately filled with joy and excitement is no exaggeration. I hauled down the shop blind as soon as the first bong of the cathedral’s five o’clock bell rang out – and I raced home to cook.
Preparing asparagus isn’t a complicated procedure like, say, roasting a turkey. There’s no brining, stuffing, rolling, basting, wrapping in foil or resting under a cartouche. In fact, the less you do to it the better:
Snap off the woody ends of the stems – usually just a centimetre or two.
Place in a steamer for five minutes, or dunk in boiling water for three. (Stems down, delicate heads up, standing just above the water’s surface.)
Drain, plate, season – and eat!
A knob of good salty butter is a magic fishing touch that elevates asparagus to heavenly status. But – it goes without saying – a knob of butter elevates almost everything.
A splash of extra virgin olive oil is also good: it’s grassiness seems to complement the grassy flavours of the vegetable. And if you’re going Italian, a grating of Parmigiano is a nice addition.
Speaking of cheese, a round of soft goat’s cheese on top is wonderful: maybe a slice of St Ella from Rosary’s farm in the New Forest. In that case, grill the asparagus for a couple of minutes, shoogle it around, then place the cheese on top and grill it for two more minutes. The cheese will have started to melt and caramelise, and the asparagus will be tender with delicious crispy edges.
Or you could put it, parboiled, in an oven-proof dish, pour over some cream, and let it bake for ten minutes. Have some Orkney Sourdough on hand to mop up the gloriously rich asparagus-cream.
And then there’s eggs to consider: poached, fried or even soft-boiled, when you can dip the asparagus tips in to the yolk like soldiers…
Ah! I’m getting carried away! Forget all that: just boil it and daud on some butter!
As the old poem has it: ‘Spring is here / The Grass is ris / It’s time to eat / Asparagis!’
I’ve never seen Orkney asparagus in any shop, but the next best thing, British asparagus - and if you’re really lucky, Scottish asparagus from places like Lunan Bay - does appear about now. It’s only around for a few weeks: enjoy it while you can.
You can read about Jane’s Boreray sheep here, and in more detail in her book The Lost Flock (Chelsea Green Books, 2023.) . In the autumn she releases a small amount of beautiful Boreray salami, which we have the privilege of selling. Keep an eye on our social media in about six months!
his diary appeared in The Orcadian on 17th April 2025. A new diary appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations, and occasional small corrections or additions.