Real Soup

On the Ascending of Spring, and Asparagus

The warmth is real. Proven with greeny sprouts in a curved line under the hose where it snakes across the clearing to the water trough.

Confirmed by the trees full of sweet and chatty young birds, discussing nesting, mates, and the local proliferation of cats.

People are boldly exposing their soft, winter-pink knees and elbows in the afternoons. And others, those inclined to adopt seasonal uniforms, may be packing wistfully away, their antique wools, those sturdy and constant friends during the long dark days.

Drawn out into little squares of light, out onto porches, excusing ourselves to bask and sponge up the lengthening sun, we begin to feel glad that it is warming, that the circle is going around as it should and that we are safe again in the rich, creamy springtime air.

I like to press my hand on the good dirt to see if, this year, I can feel the undercurrents of all the lively things below, or feel, perhaps, the minute shifting of particles as the grass roots answer the sun with their expansion, their stiff roots locking into the soil. Or best yet, feel the worms tunnelling through their dense thickets in the dark.

I know this is robins' business. I like to watch their rapt, concentrated stares as they pause on my dandelions. I'm just curious.

Deep in this underworld, sending forth their progeny through layers of wild or gardened mulch, lie the perennial roots of the delectable asparagus. Trusting and quick now, with the strong, unseen magnet of sunlight pulling them along their quiet paths, up they go, up and away, out from their beds toward the source, miraculously clean, expectant.

Gently treated, these tender buds, Spring's first anthem, warrant a serious rampage.

Regard with suspicion any recipe that instructs steaming or boiling longer than five minutes. The 'gus, as it is known at my house, is ready as soon as it turns brilliant green and is barely tender to a knife tip.

At this point, you can sprinkle it with fresh lemon, parsley, chives,vinaigrette, and down it hot or cold. Or crumble a hard boiled egg over it with bread crumbs, parsley and salt and pepper. Or add Parmesan cheese and a dab of butter and quickly broil.

If you want to make a main dish of it, which I consider very practical, try this simple Asparagus Torte, a visual and gastronomic treat.

Procure, for each person:

1/2 # fresh asparagus

Break off the tough bottoms. Steam the spears for five minutes. Rinse under cold water to stop further cooking, and set aside. If you want to sacrifice some drama but make this all easier to eat, you can do a little chopping of the spears, here, especially if you have young eaters in the crowd.

Slice very thinly, or use a loaf with the crusts trimmed:

good bakery rolls

Butter the slices lightly and place them butter down, on a 10-inch pizza pan, or in individual au gratin dishes - anything flat, with edges. The bottom of the pan should be completely covered. This makes a family sized torte.

Layer over the bread slices:

4 oz. Gruyere cheese

I have tried substituting a cheap rubber Swiss for the more pricey Gruyere and, I'm sorry, it didn't work.

Now arrange the asparagus in some fetching pattern, spokes look nice on the big torte, and top with another

4 oz of Gruyere

1-3# prosciutto, thinly sliced and made bite-sized

Sprinkle with a little salt, pepper, nutmeg. I like a layer of spinach in here, too, chopped up.

For the topping, beat together and pour over the torte:

4 egg yolks

1/2 C. milk or cream

Sprinkle the top with

1/4 C. freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Place on a cookie sheet and bake for 25 minutes, or until golden. Serve hot, cut into wedges, along with salad and baked red potatoes.

Oh! La