Rice is born in water and must die in wine. – Italian proverb

Mm, risotto. The creamy arborio rice dish accepts all sorts of additions, especially vegetables of all kinds. One of my favorite risottos, right up there with mushroom, is asparagus risotto. When the asparagus season wanes and we’ve had our fill of steamed or pan-roasted, or oven-roasted, or with-an-egg-on-top asparagus, I like to make this risotto before the weather turns too hot to want to attend a stove for half an hour or more.

So many risotto ingredients are white: the wine, the rice, the cream, the cheese. Choose a light broth base, and you get a stunning white dish.

I fail at this. My base is brown, and tints the rice a pale amber. However, I LIVED.

The old proverb above refers, in part, to the wine customarily used in making risotto. Wine is added just before you begin pouring in the water/broth that the rice is going to absorb, to relax the starches with its acidity and add a subtle, fruity note to the dish.

I think it’s to get a bottle of wine opened up so you have to finish it. Yes, you have to finish the wine, by hook or by crook.

If in the mood, I love the attentiveness risotto requires. Adding 1 cup of liquid at a time, and stirring until it’s absorbed is a bit meditative, if you’re weird that way. I am.

One cup down, 4 to go. One glass down, several to go.

The liquid is absorbed, and a small flurry of activity gets cooked chopped asparagus, cream, Parmesan, and salt and pepper stirred in until you could cry at the pinnacle of starchiness and smoothness.

One last look. Now eat.

asparagus risotto

This is an excellent risotto base recipe. Substitute ½ to 1 pound of any other vegetable or vegetable combination. Just make sure the vegetables are cooked to your liking before adding to the risotto at the end. Adapted from a recipe by RiceSelect.

1 pound fresh asparagus spears, diagonally sliced into 1-inch pieces
3 cups water
2 cups vegetable broth (I like Better Than Bouillon Vegetable Base the best)
1 tablespoon butter
½ cup chopped yellow onion (1 small onion)
1 cup uncooked arborio rice
⅓ cup dry white wine
½ cup heavy cream
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese
½ teaspoon salt
¼ 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

Have all ingredients measured and ready before preparing the asparagus risotto. You’ll be glad you did.

Steam or pan-fry asparagus until crisp-tender. Set aside.

In a 2-quart saucepan, bring water and broth to a simmer. Turn down the burner to its lowest setting and cover to keep warm. This water-broth mixture is what we will add to the arborio rice, cup by cup, until it’s all absorbed.

In a large, heavy-bottomed skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Cook onion in the butter about 5 minutes, or until soft. Add rice and stir for a couple minutes, coating each grain in the butter-onion mixture. You may notice some browning in the pan as the rice’s starch hits it. That’s okay; just don’t let the rice itself brown.

Add wine and stir until it’s absorbed. The wine will sizzle but it won’t jump out at you dangerously. Just thought I’d let you know so you aren’t too surprised. What the wine will do is deglaze the bottom and quickly soak into the rice.

Now it’s time to begin cooking the rice. You’ll be stirring almost constantly for perhaps 20 minutes. Turn the heat up to medium-high, and pour in 1 cup of the water-broth mixture. Stir frequently until the liquid is absorbed.

Continue this process: Once the cup of water-broth mixture is absorbed, add another cup of it and keep stirring. Repeat until all liquid is absorbed, or until the rice is tender. I’ve always used the entire 5 cups of water-broth mixture.

You’ve made risotto! Now’s the part where we make it awesome risotto. Stir in the cooked asparagus, cream, Parmesan cheese, salt, and pepper. Mix well.

Leftovers keep well in the fridge and freeze well too. It’s even good cold. Enjoy.

Everyone knows that a little fat in cooking is a Good Thing. Butter or olive oil brings out flavor, coats food, and makes it glisten and look pretty. What I want to know is the name of the god person who got the brilliant idea to use both at once.

butter and olive oil, together at last

The plain, quick-simmered aspargus I slapped up earlier is a homey preparation, perfect for quick weekday suppers. This asparagus, cut the same into 1-inch niblets, is fried in olive oil, butter, salt, and garlic for about 8 minutes or so. Infused with flavor, it works when you have company, or a bit more time to hover over the stove with the asparagus. Wait, what was that above? Let’s reiterate.

Butter.

Salt.

Olive oil.

Garlic.

What’s the word for one more than a triumvirate? Because this is one holy 4-ingredient mashup.

pan-roasted asparagus

If you choose to reduce the butter or olive oil, or if you prefer a fresher taste to the garlic, add the garlic near the end of the cooking time. Cooking the garlic and asparagus in less fat will increase the chance of the garlic overcooking and browning, which gives it an icky flavor. Cooked as specified in the recipe, the garlic will infuse the asparagus with garlicky flavor. Icky + garl?

method: stovetop
time: 20 minutes total

1 pound asparagus, trimmed and cut into 1-inch lengths
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
3 cloves minced garlic

In a large skillet, melt the butter over medium-high heat. Add the olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic. Stir together.

Add asparagus and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring frequently.

Rhubarb with caramelized onions? Rhubarb salsa? Rhubarb and lentil potage? I can hear you now, the ornery ones of you that is: What the hell, woman…rhubarb’s for pie. Crisps. Crunches.

For April’s Foodbuzz 24, 24, 24 event, I decided to explore the savory side of rhubarb, since there’s a ton of it growing about 50 feet from my front door. As rhubarb is technically a vegetable/herb, why not try some recipes that utilize rhubarb as a vegetable?

Hey, salsa has a tangy bite. I bet rhubarb could work in salsa. So I tracked down a viable candidate in The Joy of Rhubarb: The Versatile Summer Delight. It’s a classic Mexican salsa, with fresh cilantro, green onion (which made me happy; I can’t stand regular onions raw), lime juice, jalapeño for a bit of bite, barely-blanched rhubarb, and lots of sweet peppers and more sugar than salsa normally would have, to counteract the rhubarb’s bite.

Dad’s verdict? “It would be great on hamburgers. By the way, we’re having hamburgers tonight….” Subtle hint there, Dad. Yeah, he went home with some rhubarb salsa. Linda thought it had a bit of a bitter rhubarb taste to it and suggested more sweetener. I loved it. Fresh, crisp, clean salsa taste with the rhubarb adding uniqueness without overpowering it.

Overall verdict for rhubarb salsa: Two snaps up.

Jump to the rhubarb salsa recipe now or continue reading.

balsamic-rhubarb reduction

I swear, this was some fancy-pants shit I made. Asparagus with balsamic-rhubarb reduction (recipe here). It was dead easy, too. You cook down some balsamic vinegar and chopped rhubarb — along with a good little heap of sugar — until most of the liquid has evaporated and you get a thickish sauce. In this preparation, it’s served with roasted asparagus. You could really impress some guests with this stuff.

Dad’s verdict: Tasty, but the roasted asparagus was too soft. He grabbed a stalk of raw asparagus from the 10-pound bag I’d just picked and dipped that in the reduction instead. Linda’s verdict: “Too strong for asparagus. Would be really good with pork or something.” I liked the contrast between the tangy, balsamic-flavored reduction and the mild roasted asparagus, but I see her point. Comme-ci, comme ça.

Overall verdict for rhubarb-balsamic reduction: Two snaps sideways.

lentil and rhubarb potage

The original title of this Mark Bittman recipe is “Lentil and rhubarb stew with Indian spices,” but it’s too thick for a stew. So I did some Google-fu and discovered it was more of a potage, which also sounds fancier.

And man, it may be one ugly mofo of a dish, but damn, lentil and rhubarb potage is tasty. I was shocked. It had no added sugar. I was certain it would be inedible. But I had to try it, because it has cardamom in it, which is my new favorite spice ever.

Linda’s verdict: Really good and interesting. Nice balance of complex flavors. I’m transling from “Mmm” here, by the way.

Overall verdict for rhubarb and lentil potage: Two snaps up.

caramelized onion and rhubarb compote on herbed yogurt cheese

Hey Aunt Geri, I finally broke in the yogurt cheese maker! And all was good. This recipe, heavily adapted from one for caramelized onion, beet, and rhubarb compote, made me nervous. For one, it was another fancy-pants recipe. For another, I was adapting the living hell out of it. I’m not good at that sort of thing. Usually my adaptations tend to turn out more like the rhubarb mistake below. And for yet another thing, I was winging the whole herbed yogurt cheese thing. Entirely.

If you want to adapt the recipe like I did, simply make it without the beet purée, and add more maple syrup when you add the rhubarb, about 2 tablespoons worth. Trust me, you’ll need it. For the herbed cheese the easy way, go with a slightly sweet prepared cheese spread like Aloutte…because that was what I was shooting for. I put them in baked wonton cups, but they’d be better on small squares of puff pastry.

Dad’s verdict: “I really like the cheese and compote filling, but those wontons are like chewing on glass.” Linda’s verdict: “I love that filling!” Me? Shocked. And happy it worked. :p Cue the Smiths.

Overall verdict for caramelized onion and rhubarb compote: Two snaps way up.

rhubarb mistake

Since I had Mexican, Indian, and vaguely Italian (in the form of the caramelized onion and rhubarb compote), I decided to try incorporating rhubarb into a Thai curry. I’m not even going to link to the recipe I worked from, because the experiment was an utter disaster, and I didn’t follow the recipe exactly, so I don’t want to impugn the blogger who posted it.

Suffice it to say: disaster. Coconut milk wasn’t enough sweetness to balance rhubarb’s astringency, the rhubarb became gloopy, and it tasted awful. Oh well.

The experience did cement my dedication to you, the reader: You will never be subjected to a recipe I don’t absolutely love. I want everything you try to be something well-tested and well-liked before it ever hits this page.

Overall verdict for rhubarb mistake: Two snaps way down. Let’s forget all about it and move on to the rhubarb salsa recipe.

rhubarb salsa

Adapted from The Joy of Rhubarb: The Versatile Summer Delight by Theresa Millang.

2 cups finely diced fresh rhubarb
½ cup sweet red pepper, chopped
½ cup sweet yellow pepper, chopped
½ cup fresh cilantro, chopped
3 green onions, tops only, chopped
1 jalapeño pepper, finely chopped
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
2 tablespoons brown sugar, or to taste
salt and ground black pepper to taste

Blanch rhubarb in a saucepan of boiling water for 10 seconds. Seriously. Ten seconds. No more. Remove rhubarb promptly from heat, dump into a strainer, and rinse under cold water until rhubarb is lukewarm or cool. This is to stop the blanching process.

Place rhubarb in a glass bowl.  Add remaining ingredients, and mix well. Refrigerate at least an hour before serving to allow flavors to develop.

Do you have an asparagus patch or access to one? If you have any bit of yard at all and you like asparagus, there’s really no reason not to put some in. Asparagus is a perennial, takes up little room, and requires practically no care. Seriously. Mow or cut it down in the fall after it’s gone to seed, and that’s about it. This is one vegetable that absolutely weighs in on the positive end of the scale of labor cost v. return on investment.

the asparagus controversy: fat or thin stalks?

Nearly every cookbook I’ve ever seen that talks about asparagus says the thinnest stalks are tenderest and most flavorful.

And nearly every cookbook is wrong.

Yep, that’s it. I’m taking a stand. I’m right, and everyone else is wrong.

I shall proudly wear my badge of contrariness with pride and redundancy. Fat asparagus stalks are the best.

The fatties have more of that asparagus goodness to them, and less outer skin/stalk. They’re sweeter and have more flavor. Why on earth would anyone think the thin ones are better? Save the thin ones for roasting.

what happens to the very first asparagus of the season?

There’s so much that can be done with asparagus. Roast it, use it in quiches, risotto, or stir fries…but two things happen with the very first asparagus of the season.

1. A few bites get eaten raw. Really, it’s good.

2. It gets chopped up, simmered in a smidgen of water for no more than two or three minutes, and dressed with a little butter, salt, and pepper.

I think the quick simmer in enough water to just cover the bottom of the pan is the midwest version of steaming. My mom does it, my grandmas did it, they did it that way before there were microwaves. Like steaming, it cooks vegetables crisp-tender, so they are done but still have a bite to them.

So yeah, this isn’t so much a recipe as it is a simple way to prepare vegetables. But it’s wonderful for the freshest vegetables because it’s so simple. A great example of this is over at Cook Local. They made a balsamic rhubarb reduction as a dipping sauce for roasted asparagus, and then found themselves ignoring it entirely because the asparagus itself was so. Damn. Good.

After getting tired of plain asparagus this way, I’ll make risotto and quiche and roasted asparagus.

But for now, plain is So. Damn. Good.

asparagus, plain and simple

Measurements are loose and flexible. The only constant is putting in just enough, and only enough, water so that it doesn’t all boil away during cooking time. When trimming the ends of asparagus, don’t use the “bend and snap” method — you lose a lot of good, tender asparagus that way. Instead, trim the end with a knife at the point where the asparagus yields easily. You can feel the difference between woody and tender parts as you slice. And if where you sliced gave you resistance, you can always just slice again a bit further up the stalk.

half a pound to a pound of asparagus
½ to 1 teaspoon butter
salt and pepper to taste

Rinse the asparagus well. If the asparagus came from sandy ground, be sure to rinse under or remove the little triangular “leaves” that hug the side of the stalks, as sand will accumulate under there.

Trim the asparagus of woody ends. Chop into 1-inch lengths. Put chopped asparagus into a pan and add water to just cover the bottom of the pan, about ¼ inch deep.

Bring to a boil. This will happen quickly because of the small amount of water. Lower heat and simmer for 2 to 3 minutes. Two minutes will yield crunchier asparagus, three softer.

Drain asparagus and toss with butter, salt and pepper. Enjoy until you get sick of it. This means you are ready to move on to stage 2 of asparagus season: cooking it in something else.