By April. The newsletter grows — three thousand subscribers now, the growth accelerating as readers share issues with friends who share with friends who share with friends, the exponential hand-to-hand of a thing that people need. The need is the growth engine. The need is: someone who says the hard things about food and grief and medication and motherhood and the space between Japanese and American and the chipped bowl and the three-AM kitchen. The need is universal. The supply is me. The supply is one woman with a kitchen and a laptop and a chipped bowl and the willingness to be honest on a weekly schedule.
I made Fumiko's spring tempura — the annual celebration, the asparagus and shiso and sweet potato in cold batter, fried in thirty seconds, the transformation, the gold. The tempura was for the cooking class, which is now monthly and waitlisted and has become a cornerstone of the career, the fourth pillar alongside the blog, the column, and the books (and now: the newsletter, the fifth pillar, the pillar that is also the foundation, the Dashi beneath everything).
I wrote a newsletter issue about the cooking classes — about standing in a kitchen with strangers and teaching them to make dashi and watching their faces when the dashi is tasted for the first time, the three expressions (surprise, analysis, approval) that every first-time dashi taster makes, the expressions that are Fumiko's gift to the world, delivered through my hands to their mouths, the gift extended, the chain lengthened, the practice shared.
Miya started reading the newsletter on her own — not at my request, but independently, on my laptop, the way she reads everything: voraciously, completely, with the attention of a person who is consuming the world one text at a time. She said, after reading three issues: "Mama, the newsletter is your best writing." I said, "Why?" She said, "Because it sounds like you actually feel things. The blog sounds like you think about things. The newsletter sounds like you feel them." The distinction is the newsletter. The distinction is the Dashi. The feeling is the raw. The raw is the good.
Writing about Fumiko’s spring tempura for the newsletter — the asparagus, the cold batter, the thirty-second transformation — I realized I was describing a feeling more than a technique. Miya was right: the newsletter is where I feel things. And what I felt, after writing that issue and closing my laptop at midnight, was hungry for asparagus in a way that didn’t require a deep pot of oil and the specific courage of tempura. So I made this instead: asparagus wrapped in prosciutto, thrown on the grill, the same seasonal vegetable, a different kind of gold.
Grilled Prosciutto Asparagus
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 lb fresh asparagus (about 20 spears), tough ends trimmed
- 4 oz thinly sliced prosciutto (about 8–10 slices)
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- Lemon wedges, for serving
Instructions
- Preheat the grill. Heat an outdoor grill or grill pan to medium-high heat (about 400°F). Lightly oil the grates to prevent sticking.
- Season the asparagus. In a large bowl, toss the trimmed asparagus with olive oil, black pepper, and garlic powder until evenly coated.
- Wrap with prosciutto. Take 2–3 asparagus spears and wrap one slice of prosciutto in a spiral from base to just below the tip. Repeat with remaining spears and prosciutto, grouping them into small bundles.
- Grill the bundles. Place the wrapped asparagus bundles on the hot grill. Cook for 4–5 minutes per side, turning once, until the prosciutto is crisp and lightly charred and the asparagus is tender with visible grill marks.
- Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving platter, drizzle with fresh lemon juice, and serve immediately with lemon wedges on the side.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 110 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 5g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 520mg