By May and the garden is going in properly now. The soil temperature is reliably above fifty degrees, which is what seeds need to germinate without complaint. The peas went in Saturday — I always put peas in first, as soon as the soil is workable, which sometimes means March and sometimes means late April and this year means May, which is late but the soil has been cold. Peas are patient. They are the right vegetable for a Bergstrom to grow.
I planted my shallots on the same day, in rows with eight inches between each one, pressed into the soil to the shoulder so only the tip shows. Shallots are the undervalued member of the allium family. Everyone knows onions. Garlic has become famous. Shallots do their work quietly, adding complexity to everything they touch without demanding credit for it. I use them in salad dressings, in the base for soups, chopped fine with vinegar for the pot roast. They are the supporting character who makes every scene better. I grow them every year.
Helen's seedlings are out on the porch now, hardening off before they go into the ground next weekend. The tomatoes are stocky and dark green, the way good tomatoes look before they have been through anything. They look full of potential. They have no idea what August will ask of them. This seems fine. Not knowing what August will ask is an advantage at this stage.
I have been corresponding with Margaret Pierce about the account books. She has been cross-referencing my grandfather's yield records with weather data from the Burlington weather station archives and finding interesting correlations between late winter snowpack and sugar content in the syrup. This is the kind of research that would have interested my grandfather, who noted weather every year and was his own weather station before there was one. He would have liked Margaret Pierce. She thinks precisely. So did he.
With the peas in the ground and the shallots pressed into their rows, this week asked for something that honored the season without overcomplicating it. Asparagus comes up right alongside the peas every spring, and a simple soup — built on a base that lets a good shallot do exactly the work it was meant to do — felt like the right thing to make while Helen’s tomato seedlings toughened up on the porch and the rest of the garden waited its turn. This is not a showy recipe. It is an honest one, and that is what the week called for.
Asparagus Soup
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 lbs fresh asparagus, tough ends trimmed, cut into 1-inch pieces
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 2 shallots, finely chopped
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 4 cups low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
- 1/2 cup heavy cream
- 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- Sour cream or creme fraiche, for garnish (optional)
Instructions
- Saute the aromatics. Melt butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the shallots and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Add asparagus and broth. Add the asparagus pieces and broth to the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer. Cook uncovered for 12 to 15 minutes, until the asparagus is very tender.
- Blend the soup. Use an immersion blender directly in the pot, or transfer the soup in batches to a blender, and puree until smooth. If using a standard blender, vent the lid to allow steam to escape.
- Finish with cream and seasoning. Return the pureed soup to the pot over low heat. Stir in the heavy cream, thyme, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Heat gently for 3 to 4 minutes — do not boil. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls and garnish with a small dollop of sour cream or creme fraiche and a crack of black pepper if desired. Serve warm.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 195 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 320mg