California grass is here! Fat or slender, steamed or roasted, even deep-fried: it's just a week until the official beginning of spring, and that means, after a long winter of kale, kale, collards, and kale, beautiful asparagus--called 'grass' in the produce biz--is reappearing this month, right alongside the daffodils, tulips, and magnolia blossoms brightening every front yard.

Asparagus, you might be surprised to find out, used to be considered a member of the lily family (Liliaceae), which also included onions, garlic, leeks and the rest of the edible and ornamental alliums. But the botanical powers that be have since split that family, making a separate Asparagaceae genus of some 300 mostly ornamental species. However, unless you have a botany geek among your midst, it's still fun to amaze your friends with your mastery of obscure plant facts by mentioning the asparagus-lily connection, should conversation around the buffet need a goose.

What's really interesting, however, is how asparagus grows. It's a perennial plant, for starters, growing from a tangled, ring-like "crown" planted some six to eight inches below the surface of the soil. Once an asparagus patch is well established (it generally takes about 3 years to become fully productive), it can last for decades. The asparagus spears work like bulbs--in the same way that tulips and daffodils push up their stems and leaves from their storehouse underground, so an asparagus patch can be bare dirt one day and a forest of insouciant little tips the next. The spears come up in leaps and bounds, an inch one morning and practically full-size the next.

Some commercial asparagus growers have to harvest their fields several times a day to keep a consistent size and shape. The spears come up without distraction--no leaves, no flowers, no frills. Once they're long enough to harvest, out come the knives, cutting them off just below soil level. Like peas, asparagus are most tender and succulent straight out of the garden, which makes them worth seeking out straight from the farmer rather than at the supermarket.

The stalks should be turgid and smooth, not flaccid, pithy, or ridged. The tiny leaves should still be tight against the stalk, and the tips should be firm, the leaf tips closed with no sign of rot or sliminess at the top. The best way to judge freshness is to look at the base: really fresh asparagus will look moist, almost translucent. A day later, it's chalky; after that, it's solid white, with woodiness moving up the stalk.

You can feel where the tenderness of an asparagus stalk starts, just by bending it gently about three-quarters of the way down the stalk. Hold it with the tip pointing to your right, and you'll feel it: tender over to the right, woody to the left. Snap it right where the stiffness gives, keeping in mind that the fresher it is, the less you'll have to take off.

Cooking asparagus is a lot like cooking corn: you're not so much cooking it as just heating it through, nudging it gently over the line from raw to tender. Asparagus moves very quickly from green and tender to khaki and mush, and once gone, there's no bringing it back. You can steam-simmer it in a wide, flat saute pan, spreading it out in a bare half-inch of boiling salted water, moving it around with tongs to keep it cooking evenly, whisking it out into an ice bath the moment it starts to give.

Or you can flash-roast it, my favorite method. Preheat your oven to 450F. Lay your asparagus out on a baking sheet, drizzling olive oil over the tips, rolling the rest of the spears around in whatever's left. Go lightly: you don't want the stalks to dry up like paper in oven's blast of heat, but neither do you want them dripping and soggy with oil. Sprinkle with sea salt and grind on some coarse black pepper. Pop in the oven for 5-7 minutes, depending on your oven. They should be supple with perhaps a little ambered charring here and there. Again, don't overdo it, otherwise the lovely succulent tips will end up shriveled and chewy-brown.

To serve them as is, add a generous squeeze of lemon juice and perhaps a little flurry of finely grated lemon rind. (Meyer lemons are very nice, should you have a backyard tree.) Tangerine or even blood-orange juice can make for an interesting change. I find that roasted asparagus tastes best still warm; if you're planning to cook ahead, I'd stick with steaming, and don't put anything acid (citrus juice, vinegar) onto it until just before serving, as the acid will turn your grass from bright green to a muddy pea-soup shade very quickly.

Hollandaise sauce, in my opinion, is the most perfect accompaniment to asparagus, a suitably rich gilding for the season's first crop. But with its tricky-to-make reputation and Mad-Men ingredient list (butter, butter, egg yolks, lemon juice, butter), it's pretty much fallen out of favor among home cooks, reserved only for eggs Benedict at birthday brunches. Instead, here's a lovely spring salad to green up your table, just in time for St. Patrick's Day this week.

All this gorgeous sunshine lately has me throwing open my windows and craving all the vibrant spring veggies that have flooded the markets. Could it be? My inner bear is done hibernating with her Netflix On-Demand and is ready to get active? Eat ruffage? Yeah, not sure what the deal is…but I'm going to roll with it while the inspiration is here.

I've been craving wholesome goods like wheat berries, and snatching up bundles of asparagus like an addict. A recent trip to Berkeley Bowl West with a few produce-happy enablers left me with an abundance of vitamin-rich veggies that we've been feasting on all week.

Nothing makes me sadder than produce dying in my fridge, so I decided to throw all my odds and ends into one final fiesta of a dish…and this cheery Sunshine Salad was born.

I love all the pretty colors and textures in this kitchen-sink dish. It all just screams "healthy" to me, and makes me feel like summer fun (and sun dresses) are just around the corner!

SLICING AND DICING

I couldn't resist picking up a bag of these adorably diminutive flying saucer squash up at the Bowl. For this salad, I cut off the stem, sliced it vertically down, in half, flipped it on the cut flat side, and proceeded to cut up semi-circle slices. Then, quartered them into smaller triangle shapes to get them bite-sized.

A nice trick I learned for cutting kernels off corn-on-the-cob: place a small bowl, turned upside down, into the center of a large mixing bowl. You should now have a flat surface where you can place the tip of the corn (cut the very tip off so that you have a steady flat edge to rest on the bowl). Now, as you cut the kernels off, sawing in a downward motion, all the kernels will fall neatly into the mixing bowl. Voila!

For the asparagus, I've been obsessed with cutting them into "coin" shapes ever since I saw it done in Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc at Home. Parents take note, there is just something really fun about eating vegetables in unexpected shapes. I'm pretty sure it makes them taste better.

ON WHEAT BERRIES
If you haven't tried wheat berries before, I highly recommend you give them a shot. This whole grain is incredibly good for you, and a great substitute for rice or orzo. The kernels of nutrition are pleasantly chewy, a little nutty in flavor, and just plain wholesome. They do take a long time to cook (at least an hour of simmering), so plan accordingly, but a time-saving tip I learned from Heidi: soak the berries in water for a few hours or overnight prior to cooking and they'll need less time on the stove.

DRESS ME UP
I stumbled on this "vinaigrette" for this salad because I had a bunch of it left over from when I made this great recipe for Miso-glazed Cod a few days prior.

As I tested out different dressings for my Sunshine Salad, I kept striking out. Pesto competed too much with the flavors of the veggies. Balsamic could do, but it was a bit boring. Then, my eyes fell on that little Tupperware of miso-rice-vinegar-soy dressing, and I knew it would work. The tang of the vinegar, earthy, mildly funky miso, and salty soy sauce combo was just right. The Asian flavors brought out the touch of green onion, and complemented the sweet squash perfectly. Don't you just love it when the stars align like that?

Come to think of it, I ate this salad with just a fried egg on top, but it would also be a lovely side dish to go with that cod. Can it get any better? I think not.

Wheat Berry Sunshine Salad
With miso vinaigrette from Epicurious’s recipe for Miso-glazed Cod

Serves: 4-6

Ingredients:
½ cup soft wheat berries
1 ¾ cups water
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup peeled and cubed butternut squash
2 ears of corn
4 flying saucer squash (summer squash)
½ bunch asparagus (approximately a dozen spears)
3 green onions
¼ cup feta cheese
¼ cup dried cranberries
3 tablespoons miso vinaigrette (see recipe below)
Olive oil, salt and pepper for sauteeing

Preparation:
1. The wheat berries take about an hour to cook through, so you want to get these going first. Rinse the wheat berries, then, in a saucepan, combine them with the water and salt. Bring to a rolling boil, reduce the heat, cover and simmer for one hour or until tender. Drain any extra liquid and set aside.
2. Preheat the oven to 450°F. Toss the squash with olive oil, salt and pepper to season. Roast on a foil-lined baking sheet for 20-25 minutes until lightly browned and cooked through.
3. Meanwhile, cook the corn on the cob by steaming or microwaving it. I prefer using the microwave because it’s fast and easy. Simply wet the corn, with husk still on, rinsing off any traces of dirt. Place on a plate and microwave for about 2 ½ minutes. Be careful when removing the husk, hot steam will be released. Cut the kernels off and place into a large mixing bowl.
4. Slice the summer squash into bite-sized pieces and sautee in a large pan with some olive oil, salt and pepper until slightly browned and tender. Add to mixing bowl.
5. Cut the asparagus crosswise, about ¼ inch thick, so that you get little "coins." Sautee in the pan with olive oil, salt and pepper until just tender. When the asparagus is almost done, add the green onion (chopped finely, crosswise into small rings) to the pan. Sautee for about 30 seconds longer, then add to mixing bowl.
6. Add the cooked wheat berries, roasted butternut squash, cranberries, and vinaigrette to the mixing bowl. Combine well, top with feta, and serve.

For miso vinaigrette:
1/2 cup mellow white miso (or light yellow)
5 tablespoons rice vinegar
1/4 cup sugar
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/4 cup olive oil

Blend miso, vinegar, sugar, soy sauce and cayenne pepper in processor. With machine running, gradually pour in oil; blend until mixture is smooth.

The weather is warming up, baby birds are chirping in my backyard, and my kids are begging to go to the pool. It is once again officially Spring. And, if I needed yet another reminder that Winter is over, I was met with piles of lush green asparagus last weekend at the farmer's market. After making my purchase, my mind whirled with the array of dishes I could make. Should I grill them and top with a fresh lemon and olive oil dressing, or maybe lightly sauté and serve with pasta? How about a creamy green soup? Or maybe a tart?

My musings were nothing new for me (as I'm constantly trying to dream up something interesting for both my family and this blog) or for asparagus itself. You see, as young and fresh as asparagus seems each spring, it's been served on dinner tables for thousands of years. It is even discussed in Apicius, a book of recipes dating back to ancient Rome. Back then, it was considered a delicacy. According to the directions in Apicius, each stalk was supposed to be "peeled, washed and dried and immersed in boiling water backwards." The preparation is a bit meticulous for my tastes. I'm not one to peel my asparagus and am hardly fussy enough to lay each stalk into a pot "backwards." Yet the dish sounds like something I'd enjoy eating nonetheless. And those Romans were right to love those green spears. Full of calcium, magnesium and folic acid, not to mention vitamins A, C and E, asparagus is a nutritional powerhouse.

So what did I make with my first asparagus purchase of the season? Well, I decided to try something completely different -- at least it was unusual for me, but after 2,000 years or more at the dinner table, I am under no illusions that I am the first to make it. I was thinking of making asparagus with pasta, but when I opened the pantry found an unopened box of risotto sitting prominently on the shelf. It had been ages since I made risotto and the idea of buttery rice with the earthy flavor of spring asparagus sounded wonderful to me. Plus my daughter Maddie had lost two teeth earlier that day and could barely chew, so the forgiving texture of rice seemed perfect.

But then I started to wonder how the risotto would taste if the asparagus were pureed into a béchamel sauce which was then added in. After imagining the dish, I knew I had to try it and was glad I did. The béchamel added a wonderful creaminess to the risotto while the pureed asparagus spears gave it a mild and intriguing flavor. Topped off with more asparagus that had been chopped and sautéed in olive oil and lemon zest, the dish highlighted the natural verdant taste of spring while also providing a comforting warmth.

Here's my recipe for Green Risotto with Asparagus, followed by instructions for making croquettes the next day with leftovers. Covered with panko and then fried in olive oil, the croquettes were crunchy on the outside and creamy on the inside. So whether you make risotto, croquettes, or something entirely different, just be sure to take advantage of one of this season's oldest stars.

Green Risotto with Asparagus

Makes: 4 servings

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups risotto
4-5 cups chicken or vegetable stock (warmed)
1/2 cup white wine (optional)
3 Tbsp olive oil
1 large shallot minced
2 Tbsp butter
2 tsp milk
1 cup whole milk plus 2 Tbsp
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
15 medium asparagus
Zest from one lemon
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. Heat 1 Tbsp olive oil in a medium sauce pan and sauté minced shallots for 1 minute.
2. Add risotto and stir until fully incorporated.
3. Pour in 1/2 cup broth and mix thoroughly. When liquid is absorbed, continue adding 1/2 cup broth to the rice and stirring until absorbed. Do this until the rice is al dente (meaning it's cooked through but not mushy). I ended up using around 4 cups of broth but you may need more. Be sure to continually stir so you don't scorch the rice at the bottom of the pan.
4. Add the wine (if using) and add season with salt and pepper. Turn off the burner.
5. Meanwhile, mince 7 asparagus and sauté in the remaining tablespoon of olive oil in a separate sauce pan for 2 minutes. Remove from pan and blend with 2 Tbsp milk until pureed.
6. In the same sauce pan that you used to cook the minced asparagus, melt the butter and then add in the flour to create a roux. Stir in milk and heat on medium low until the sauce is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Add salt and pepper to taste and then add in the pureed asparagus. Your sauce will now be green.
7. Roughly chop the remaining asparagus and sauté in a separate pan in olive oil (about 1 Tbsp) with the lemon zest. Add salt and pepper to taste.
8. Add the green sauce to the risotto and mix thoroughly. Incorporate 1 cup Parmesan cheese and stir.
9. Spoon risotto onto plates and top with cooked asparagus and lemon zest.

Green Risotto Croquettes

Makes: 4 - 6 croquettes

Ingredients:
1 cup leftover Green Risotto
1 egg beaten
1 cup panko or dried bread crumbs
olive oil for frying

Preparation:
1. Beat egg in a medium bowl and set aside. Place panko in a flat plate.
2. Drizzle a pan with olive oil (I like to use my cast iron) and heat to medium high.
3. Spoon a golf-ball sized amount of rice into your hand and then flatten into a round disk. Dip into the egg and then the panko, coating it thoroughly. Do this until all the risotto is gone.
4. Lay croquettes into the hot oil and saute on each side until golden brown.
5. Serve with grilled asparagus or a salad.

Lettuce from Full Belly Farm

Happy Spring! Yes, the vernal equinox arrived on Saturday at 10:32 a.m., Pacific Daylight Time. Thank you, astronomists, for tracking the exact moment when the center of the sun would be precisely in line with the earth's equator. More generally, though, the equinox represents the twice-yearly date when the sun spends approximately equal time above and below the horizon, producing a day that's almost evenly split between day and night. After the equinox, the days begin to lengthen, adding a few more minutes of daylight to every 24 hours until the summer solstice in June.

And because, short of mushrooms, every plant we eat needs warmth and sunshine to grow, lengthening daylight means new crops springing up with every week that passes. In lucky California, that is. Back in the Northeast, the weather may be finally warming, but it will be months before anything fresh breaks through the frozen ground, and weeks before New Yorkers can even start trying to muster enthusiasm for the season's first foraged ramps (stinky, skinny wild leeks) and fiddleheads (curled fern tops, with a shelf life of about an hour).

Asparagus from Kaki Farm

But yesterday the Berkeley Farmers' Market was awash in tender greens, including that rock star of spring, asparagus. Just in time for Passover dinners and Easter brunch, the season's first succulent spears are popping up from the bare ground like something fresh from the kitchen of Dr. Seuss. Full Belly will have theirs for at least another month. And while the stalks are delicious simply steamed or roasted with a drip of butter and lemon, they also makes a splendid quiche filling mixed with a handful of sauteed green garlic.

Green garlic from Full Belly Farm

Green garlic stalks, which look like knobby-ended slender leeks or tough-minded scallions, are just what the name says: immature garlic plants, thinned out from the ground before the bulb can form. Left to mature, the bottom part of the stalk will fatten into a plump bulb, packed with individual cloves covered in a papery carapace. Once the bulb is fully ripe, the green stalk will yellow and wither, and the plant can be yanked out, left to cure in a warm dry place for a few weeks, then trimmed and stored to provide delicious pungency for months.

Green garlic, however, is perishable, a happy by-product of garlic growing. Only small farmers bother to market it, since it takes a little customer education to get buyers to know what it is and what to do with it. But thankfully, we live in a place with green-garlic pizza and more, and its sweetly delicate pungency has become a essential part of cooking here in early spring.

Artichokes from Swanton Berry Farm

Artichokes, too, are pumping out their fat fists. It's no surprise that, like asparagus, these harbingers of spring also come from perennial plants, plants that can store reserves of food and nutrients all winter, then spring into action at the first touch of warmth. Left to their own devices, these chubby buds would fold back their spike-tipped petals to form a tufty purple flower, making the plant's place in the thistle family abundantly clear. But picked still at the tight bud stage, the petals and the tender heart within make a dreamy base for any number of sauces--homemade mayonnaise, buttery hollandaise, blood-orange maltaise, lemony vinaigrette, even straight-up melted butter.

Citrus is still aglow, from grapefruits and lemons to blood oranges and tangy mandarins. Soon, though, the first pink rhubarb stalks will be arriving, alongside early-crop strawberries, perfect for cascading over angel cake or baking into rosy crisps and pies.

Sugar snap peas

In my own garden, the sugar-snap peas, planted in January, are in full-blown tangled bloom, the green pods swelling to succulence day by day. This type, made by crossing a green pea with a snow pea, produce what the French call mange-touts: sweet, crunchy edible pea pods wrapped around equally sweet full-sized peas. They make an irresistible snack while weeding, and somehow, no matter how hard you look, there's always one more hiding among the leaves.

But, as energetically as I plant my community-garden plot, I'm not sustaining myself every day from that door-sized patch of dirt. Food doesn't happen without farms, and farms don't happen without farmers and farmworkers. From now through mid-April, Berkeley's Ecology Center is honoring the life of Cesar Chavez, whose work as an activist and organizer within the farmworker communities of California (and beyond) made a difference in so many lives. On Tuesday, performers on a stage set up at the market filled the street with songs, poetry, music, and dance honoring Chavez's work and the achievements and struggles of the United Farm Workers.

Farm Fresh Asparagus

The markets have been flooded with bundles of bright green, fresh and crisp asparagus for weeks now. Jumbo, pencil-thin, white...I've seen every iteration of these luscious spears overflowing from stands across the city.

If you haven't been tempted yet to pick up a bunch of these springtime beauties, maybe this recipe will push you over the edge.

Balsamic Grilled Asparagus

Grilled asparagus kissed with balsamic vinegar, served with a fried egg, crumbled bacon, and lemon aioli. A kind of deconstructed modern carbonara if you will.

It takes a bit of work with the different components, but it's worth it! Perfect for a fancy brunch or served as a starter, this dish is full of smooth richness, mellow sweetness, a little tang, and crunch.

Balsamic Grilled Asparagus

Serves: 3-4

Ingredients:
1 pound asparagus, washed with ends of the stems trimmed
8 cups chicken stock
1 bowl ice water
½ pound bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

Aïoli:
1 clove garlic
2 large egg yolks
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons orange juice
½ teaspoon salt
¼ cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano
½ cup extra virgin olive oil

Preparation:
1. Lemon Aïoli
Place the garlic, egg yolks, mustard, lemon juice, orange juice, salt, and grated cheese into a food processor and blend until smooth. Slowly add the olive oil while the processor is running. Prepare a double boiler, making sure the bowl on top is not touching the simmering water beneath. Place the sauce in the bowl and whisk until the sauce becomes a thick, smooth consistency (about 5 minutes).

2. Asparagus
Bring the chicken stock to a boil. Add the asparagus to the boiling stock, uncovered, for approximately 2 minutes. Drain and immediately place the spears into ice water to stop cooking. Drain again and pat dry.

3. Bacon
In a large skillet cook the bacon over high heat until crispy and brown. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon pieces to a plate lined with paper towels. Pour off most of the bacon grease, leaving just enough to coat the bottom of the pan. Heat the pan over medium-high heat, place the asparagus in the pan, and season with a pinch of salt and pepper. Add balsamic vinegar and stir to coat the asparagus. Sear on each side for 2-3 minutes.

4. Fried Egg
In a separate pan fry an egg sunny side up. When the white is mostly cooked, add a few tablespoons of water into the pan and cover for a minute or two. The result will be a yolk that is soft but not too raw. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

5. Plate the asparagus with the egg, crumbled bacon, and garnish with sauce.

Tip: You will have a lot of aioli leftover. Save it in an airtight container -- it makes a wonderful sandwich spread or chip/veggie dip.

Because I was such a picky eater as a kid and gagged over nearly everything, I can always recall precisely when my feelings toward certain foods took a turn for the better. Not only that, but I clearly remember how the food was prepared, and I know exactly what I read that piqued my interest in the hated food in the first place. Yes, reading makes me hungry for food I wouldn't otherwise touch with a ten-foot fork.*

I'm not talking about such usual suspects as Calvin Trillin, M.F.K. Fisher, or Eat Pray Love, either. No, my inspirations were much weirder. For instance, Bread and Jam for Frances got me eating soft-boiled eggs when all I used to endure was scrambled; Gerald Durrell had me craving grilled tomatoes on toast; Dickens made me try plum pudding; and perhaps most importantly of all, Sweet Valley High got me into asparagus.

It was in Power Play. Wealthy and spoiled Lila Fowler is caught shoplifting to get her father's attention. The angelic, nosy, and -- as of this year -- "perfect size 4" Elizabeth Wakefield manages to come to Lila's rescue. Because of this, Mr. and Lila Fowler take Elizabeth out to a fancy restaurant to thank her for being nosy and angelic and having a gold lavaliere. Never mind that Lila eventually went back to her rich-bitchy ways. Never mind that the main story is all about "chubby" Robin Wilson losing weight, gaining lip gloss, and making Bruce Patman walk into a door -- all I took away from that book was that Elizabeth had asparagus tips at the fancy restaurant.

Asparagus tips. I kept turning the words over and over in my head. I wanted asparagus tips. Except that I didn't really, did I? My older sister and I used to go around giggle-whispering, "Asparag-ASS" whenever that vegetable came up in polite conversation. (We thought we were so clever.) I remember wishing longingly that "asparagus tips" weren't a vegetable. That it meant something else entirely, preferably having to do with meat, Doritos, or cream cheese.

Nevertheless, I finally tried it. I tried it roasted. I wallowed in the crispy, olive oil-saturated tips. I got primal and ate with my hands. I sucked the salt and pepper of my asparagussed fingertips. My longing was requited, and I was crushing hard. Asparagus is back in season and tonight I'm having my spring crush over for dinner. He needn't dress, it's nothing fancy.

Simply Roasted Asparagus

Serves 4 as a side dish

Ingredients

1 lb asparagus, tough ends snapped off
2-3 tablespoons olive oil
Salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Preparation

Preheat oven to 400°

1. Toss the asparagus with the olive oil, salt, and pepper. Roast for 8-10 minutes.
2. Serve cold with Parmigiano-Reggiano.
*(Conversely, Ramona Quimby made me despise tongue and Fig Newtons even to this day.)