Asparagus in January

Those of us of a certain age will remember the time known as before GM. No, not General Motors, before global markets. Those were the days when asparagus in January was unheard of.

Asparagus was considered the crown jewel of vegetables, made all the more precious by the fact that it was only available for a short time every spring. My stepfather had battled cancer and in a spurt of hopefulness he planted an asparagus bed and patiently waited for it to mature. We waited several years and thereafter enjoyed a bountiful harvest, devouring huge platters dressed in melted butter or lightly drizzed with Hollandaise sauce.

One January we planned to attend a progressive dinner sponsored by our church and by the luck of the draw it was determined we would be the guests of hostess Julia Gray. The farmer was duly impressed by my social climbing skills and I conveniently forgot to tell him that it was simply a matter of chance in this case.

Julia called her guests to make sure we knew the way to her home.

"I'm in the big Victorian house, across from the regular home."

There was no need for this information, everyone knew where Julia lived. We all salivated as we drove past. There were banks of lilacs that bloomed in the spring and infused the air with their fragrance. And her gardens were legendary. Few had gained entrance into her home as guests though. We'd slow down in the evenings and peer into her windows as we drove past, getting glimpses of candy pink in the living room and emerald green dining room walls.

The evening came and we were ushered into a large foyer, actually more of a room in it's own right, papered with the most perfect wallpaper ever. I can't tell you exactly what it looked like but it was perfect. The living room walls were indeed painted a bold candy pink and her antiques and floor to ceiling lace panels made everything look like a photo shoot. The emerald green dining room was hung with beautiful artwork and an antique chandelier lit the room, illuminating beautiful linens and the family silver.

Julia served the meal which included a large platter of asparagus accompanied by a dish filled with Hollandaise sauce. My eyes must have grown as big as saucers and I asked her, "Where did you ever find asparagus in January?".

"The Blue Goose food store has found a supplier in South America," she answered.

"Oh, how wonderful!" I exclaimed, knowing full well the Blue Goose food store would charge dearly for this precious commodity.

Julia had earned her reputation as a stellar hostess and I had enjoyed asparagus in January. But something gnawed at me, what would happen if asparagus were available every day of the year? It wouldn't be special anymore and the wonderful anticipation of the annual harvest would be diminished. The king of vegetables would be relegated to the everyday. Sad.

Fast forward to a day in the local supermarket. I stood before a huge display of asparagus, standing straight as soldiers with their feet implanted in a man-made lake of chilled water. "ASPARAGUS!!!!" proclaimed the hand-lettered sign. "Fresh asparagus!"

I stood there for a few moments looking at the spears. I sensed someone else was standing beside me and I turned to the woman and said, "Where in the world do you think asparagus would be in season this time of year?"

"Perhaps Chile," she answered.

The teenage produce clerk was standing nearby and overheard our conversation. His eyes lit up and he transformed into that kid in the back of the class who finally knew the answer to something. Excitedly he rushed in our direction.

"No ma'am," he said. "Those come from the warehouse!"

Indeed.