Last week for dinner we made a lovely simple salad with romaine lettuce, strawberries, asparagus, sunflower seeds,
homemade balsamic vinaigrette, brie cheese, and grilled steak. Served with fresh watermelon water (an entire watermelon, minus the rind, blended with the juice of a few limes or lemons, and served chilled), it made for a delicious meal. We devoured it in our sunny dining room, with the front door open, the warmth of the May sun pouring in, and a lazy Lola dog at our feet. Ah, warm weather days!
By the way, asparagus tastes better - earthier, chunkier,
asparagusier - in season than not in season. The skinny flavorless stalks of year-round, out-of-season asparagus don't seem worth the money now that I've realized how much better spring asparagus tastes. Barbara Kingsolver waxes poetic about April asparagus in her book,
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, in which she chronicles her family's experience of moving to a farm in rural Virginia to spend a year eating only what they can grow or buy locally (and therefore, most likely seasonally).
If you haven't read this book,
here is an excerpt in Orion magazine to pique your interest. If you're like me, you will read this book and immediately start daydreaming about your future hobby farm. Mine, if you're interested, is located somewhere in the Pacific Northwest and involves llamas. Or maybe alpacas. I can never remember which one I have hypothetically decided on, alpacas or llamas. Alpacas are smaller but produce more wool, so probably alpacas. Anyway, the point is, you should read this book and then call me so that we can talk about how cool our lives will be when we're out on the farm baking bread and spinning alpaca wool.
Now, go forth and enjoy the last of the spring asparagus!
P.S. I am shamelessly pinning my own image to my
Eat, Drink board on Pinterest. Check it out for other summer-worthy meals, like the
Tomato Panzanella with Ricotta (our favorite meal of summer 2011) and the
Spaghetti al Limone that I plan to make very soon.
