Yesterday was a record breaking hot day – and this was lunch.  I made some olive bread and put together a Greek-Style Tomato Salad, too, but I’ll post them next week.  I think I must be thinking ‘Greece’ because the news is so full of scenes from Athens.  Tough times ahead for a lovely country whichever way they vote, I fear.

I love Greek food, but then I love the herbs that predominate in it – oregano, mint, dill, bay leaves, Greek basil, thyme and fennel are the ones that spring to mind.  Being a home cook, I have to use what I can buy.  My oregano is not the evocative rigani, as far as I’m aware.  It’s Bart’s.  Greek basil, I can get.  The bitter salad leaves don’t taste quite as bitter as they do under Greek sunshine, but I probably would balk at so many unnecessary air-miles just to feed my children lunch.

Nothing for it, a visit to Greece is in my future.

In the meantime, we’re coming to the end of the British asparagus season.  I have treated my early spears with utmost respect and I’m now putting them in tarts, wrapping in pancakes and making them into salads.

I picked up a couple of bundles – which was a little over 500g.  There’s a point on an asparagus spear where it’ll snap naturally.  That place marks the end of the fibrous bit and the start of the tender, delicious bit.

(Incidentally, I read something the other day about the English style of eating – and cooking – asparagus.  Apparently, we steam the whole asparagus spear and then use the fibrous bit to hold.  I will confess to eating with my fingers on occasion, but I’m afraid I eat the whole thing and would be irritated to get fibrous bits between my teeth.  Plus, I am inclined to lick my fingers when no-one is looking rather than look for a finger bowl.  I would be more disappointed in myself if the writer didn’t labour under the assumption all households own an asparagus steamer but I have never lived in a household which possessed one.)

If you are aesthetically fastidious, you can neaten up the ends with a knife.  I do that.  Sorry!

My asparagus I would classify as ‘medium’.  What chefs call sprue asparagus (that’s the spindly ones) I’d use for something else.  Fatter asparagus will need peeling.  Just the lower part to make sure what you have in your salad is tender.

Whatever you are left with – pop the snapped off ends and any trimmings in a freezer bag.  That’s asparagus soup in the making.

The asparagus spears I give a rinse under running water and fill a wide saucepan with about 5cm/2″ of water.  Just enough to cover the asparagus in a single layer.  Ish.  You can be a little relaxed about it.

When the water is boiling add a little sea salt.  I season lightly, partly because I’m going to save the asparagus water for soup and that will intensify the salt content and partly because these spears are going in a flavourful dressing.

Simmer for 3 minutes.  It’s almost more of a blanch.  Just tender.  Then drain, reserving the water if you want to make soup.  I put mine in a freezer bag for another day.  Usually, I lay the spears on kitchen paper to dry .. but I’d run out.

And the dressing …

Finely zest one lemon.  Put it and the juice into a bowl.

100ml/3½fl oz of cold-pressed Greek olive oil.  Use one you like the flavour of.

1 teaspoon of dried oregano.

Salt and pepper.  This is such a subjective thing, but I used 2 scant teaspoons of coarse sea salt and crushed 1 teaspoon of black peppercorns in a pestle and mortar.

Give the drained – and still perky – asparagus a toss in the dressing.

Finely chop three shallots and add those.

A small bunch of flat-leaf parsley.  I had to use a small supermarket pot and I used it all.  Roughly chop.  It’s part of the salad so I like to see bits of parsley.

Give everything a light toss and leave it at room temperature for all the flavours to get acquainted.  If you want to leave it longer than an hour, pop into the fridge and bring it back to room temperature before serving.

Eat.

Greek-Style Asparagus Salad

Serves 4-6 as a side.

• 2 bundles of medium asparagus spears (about 500g/1lb)
• Zest and juice of 1 lemon
• 100ml/3½fl oz of cold-pressed Greek olive oil
• 1 teaspoon of dried oregano
• 3 shallots, finely chopped
• small bunch of flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
• 1 teaspoon of roughly crushed black peppercorns
• Sea-salt, to taste

Snap off the tough ends of the asparagus spears and freeze to use in stocks or soup.  Rinse the spears under running water.

Bring 5cm/2½” of water to a boil in a wide saucepan.  Season lightly and add the spears.  Simmer for 3 minutes, or until the asparagus spears are just tender.  Drain and spread on kitchen towel to dry.

Place the zest and juice of the lemon in a bowl.  Add 100ml/3½fl oz of cold-pressed Greek olive oil, 1 teaspoon of dried oregano and season with salt and crushed black peppercorns.

Lightly toss the asparagus spears in the dressing.

Add the finely chopped shallots and the roughly chopped parsley.  Give everything a final toss and serve at room temperature.

Eat.

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No-one needs Hollandaise, but wouldn’t life be a poorer thing without it?

It’s one of the five ‘mother’ sauces in French Haute Cuisine and I suspect that’s why it’s got the reputation as ‘difficult’ – but if you resolutely refuse to be star-struck, it really isn’t a diva to make.  Just do it.  You’ll never look back.  And, even if the worst happens, if you make it in a small quantity the ingredient investment is tiny.   Time-wise it’s less than ten minutes.  Then go again.  In the privacy of your own kitchen, who’s watching???

I just love it.  It’s perfect with Globe Artichokes, steamed asparagus, poached salmon, Eggs Benedict …

I didn’t even have to think about that.

There is no disguising how much butter goes in.

Oh well!

You’ll see from the photo I’ve already made a ‘choice’.  I don’t clarify my butter.  I use a good quality butter – one I like the taste of.  Unsalted or salted doesn’t really matter.  If you use unsalted you’ll need to add a pinch of salt at the end – and with salted you probably won’t need to.

Nor do I do the super-classical vinegar reduction thing.  The reason you’d do it is to raise the temperature at which your egg will curdle.  It’s a PH thing.  By using a ‘bowl over water’ method I’m using a very gentle heat and I find I’m in total control.  I can honestly say I don’t give the PH content a thought.

For such a simple little sauce there are a surprising number of methods to choose from.  Foodies generally agree the ‘blender method’ lacks flavour when ‘tasted alongside a classically made Hollandaise’.  But, who does that ‘tasting alongside’ thing?  The blender method is marginally quicker in that you blitz the egg yolk and trickle in melted butter but I don’t do it.  The reason has nothing to do with taste but because I hate washing the blasted blender up.  Besides which, I’ve been making Hollandaise longer than I’ve owned a blender.  Plus, with the bowl method, it’s easier to make in smaller quantities – and, since it’s a sauce you need to make in the quantity you want to use it, that’s useful.

More recently, I’ve also tried and rejected the ‘direct saucepan’ method because I ended up with a thin eggy mess – twice.  I haven’t decided whether that’s because my saucepan lacks ‘bottom’ or whether a ‘Simmering Plate’ is too fierce.  I could use the hob and go and buy a diffuser .. but, I’m not going to.

Much though I hate unnecessary washing up, I really can’t see there’s much to worry about using a pyrex bowl over a saucepan of barely simmering water.  The bowl goes in the dishwasher and the saucepan gets a quick wipe and it’s back in the drawer.  It’s a method which is entirely more forgiving and I don’t want the stress.

Purists will say you need to use a stainless steel bowl – but I prefer to see what’s happening to my water below my sauce.  You want scarcely a bubble.  Make sure the water won’t come into contact with the bottom of the bowl.

Take your butter from the fridge.  For every egg yolk you need 55g/2oz butter.  Cut into cubes.

I’m making a super-small amount here.  Just enough for two of us.  One egg yolk.  In a bowl set above – but not touching – a saucepan of barely simmering water.  Stainless or otherwise.  Together with 1 teaspoon-ish of cold tap water.

Give it a whisk.  The only thing you have to know is ‘keep everything moving’.  You’re making an emulsified sauce.

And then drop in the first cube of butter.  When it’s been incorporated, drop in the second.

And keep going.  Keep everything moving.  I use a figure of eight movement with my whisk.

And the final cube of butter.

Then a splash of lemon juice.  About ½ tsp for each egg yolk, but if you prefer your Hollandaise a little more lemony you can add a little more.

Transfer to a bowl.  Season to taste.  Salt, maybe.  I rarely do as I use salted butter.  White pepper will mean you don’t have any black flecks.  If you’d like it a little thinner, then add a tablespoon of hot water.

And that’s it.

If it all goes horribly wrong (and that might matter if you are making a larger quantity), there are some things you can do.  At the first hint of curdling add a splash of hot water and then slow down the rate at which you are adding the butter.  If your disaster is more extreme you’ll need to strain your sauce.  Keep what’s left warm and begin again in a clean bowl.  You can then whisk in the strained sauce.  Of course, you’ll have more Hollandaise but what a lovely problem to have.

It won’t re-heat.  If you need to ‘hold’ your Hollandaise while you pull anything else together or wait for friends to arrive/get up the best way is to pour it into a warmed flask.  Two hours max.  It works like a dream.  You could also hold it in the bain marie – that’s the bowl above warm water.  You want a holding temperature of 145°F/63°C.  (Use the flask!)

Start the diet tomorrow.  Eat.

Hollandaise Sauce

Serves 2 – 1 egg yolk – can easily be multiplied.

• 1 free-range, organic egg yolk – as fresh as you can get it
• a splash of cold water, about 1 tsp
• 55g/2oz good quality butter, fridge-cold and diced
• a splash of lemon juice, about ½ tsp but to taste
• Season, to taste

Set a clean bowl above an 2.5cm/1″ of barely simmering water.  It’s important water doesn’t come into direct contact with the bottom of the bowl.

Place 1 egg yolk in the bowl, together with a splash of cold water and whisk together.

Add a cube of cold butter.  Whisk continuously.  In order to emulsify everything you need to keep it all moving.  As soon as your cube of butter has been incorporated, add the next.  And the next.

Before your eyes your sauce will thicken.

When all the butter has been incorporated, add a splash of lemon juice.  Season to taste.

Eat.

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Monty Don, he of ‘Gardeners’ World’, said something along the lines of ‘If cut-and-come-again salad is the one night stand of gardening, asparagus is a ten year marriage.’  To be absolutely truthful, he left me at the point he demonstrated the amount of digging in of grit required.  I buy my asparagus.

The season runs from about the 24th April to about the 21st June.  Depending on the year, it’ll vary.  British asparagus is a truly lovely thing.  All the things that make UK weather so .. annoying makes for great tasting asparagus.  There’s a reason why we don’t export any of it!

The downside is, it’s expensive.  That’s because it’s a fairly difficult crop to grow, it has a short season and each spear is harvested individually.  Whilst the price is entirely understandable, I really hate throwing any of it away.  Those tough stalks you snap off are not getting discarded in my kitchen.

My ‘ends’ get popped into a freezer bag until I have enough to do something with.  Today, I reached the 1kg stage.  I know this because I weighed it.  I have never done it before and I strongly suggest you don’t bother.  More or less, it doesn’t matter in the slightest.

Give your asparagus ends a quick rinse.  Then into a big pot and just cover with cold water.  Bring to a boil and simmer for 10 minutes.

While that’s happening, chop up a couple of onions.

Soften in butter.  Lots of butter.  Since the asparagus itself is virtually fat-free, high in vitamins A, B and C, full of fibre and folic acid – I’m thinking the butter is permissible.  The onion needs to be soft, but not coloured.  Add in 4 cloves of microplaned garlic cloves.

When the asparagus ends have been simmering for 10 minutes – drain.  KEEP THE WATER!

I can’t deny the asparagus cooking water doesn’t look the most encouraging thing you’ve ever seen.

Add flour to the onions.  For two onions and 100g of butter, I used two heaped tablespoons.

Stir until all the butter is absorbed by the flour and the onions are coated.

Then add the asparagus cooking water.

Return the softened ends to the saucepan.

Bring to the boil, and simmer for another 10 minutes.

Leave to cool.

Purée.

Sieve.  Use the back of a ladle to push it through.  The most fibrous bits of the asparagus ends will stay in the sieve.

This is the point at which it will freeze brilliantly.  I reckon 300ml/2 ladles/10fl oz is a portion.

There were three of us for lunch today, so 6 ladles went into a saucepan with 150ml of full-fat milk.  As of now, your soup has absolutely no seasoning.  If you want to prove to yourself how vital salt is, taste.  Bland doesn’t even begin to describe it.  So, season to taste.  In my case, 2 tsp of malden sea salt and 1 tsp of freshly ground white peppercorns.

Meanwhile, I got on with making some photographically appealing croutons.  I oiled six asparagus spears and wiped up the remaining oil with three pieces of French bread.  Then, I griddled them.

A generous dollop of goats cheese is lovely.  Mine is ‘Moody’s Rosary Ash’ which is made on the edge of the New Forest from pasteurised goat’s milk.  The black is an edible ash coating.  (New to us.  Dom and Jem aren’t wild about goats’ cheese, but they finished off the last bit of this one.)

Top with a couple of spears of asparagus.

A swirl of cream and a light sprinkling of parsley looks nice.  Chervil is also good, but you have to grow it.  As is, crispy bacon.

Eat.

Asparagus Soup with Goats’ Cheese and Asparagus Giant Crouton

Makes 10 portions/3 litres, approximately

• 1kg/2lb-plus of woody asparagus ends
• 2 onions, chopped
• 4 cloves of garlic, microplaned
• 100g/1 stick/4oz butter
• 2 heaped tablespoons of plain flour
• 500ml/17fl oz full-fat milk
• Malden sea salt and freshly ground white pepper
• Garnish:  Double cream/chopped parsley or chervil/slices of griddled French bread topped with goats’ cheese and asparagus spears

Place the woody asparagus ends in a saucepan and cover with water.  Bring to the boil and simmer for ten minutes.

Melt the butter in a large saucepan and soften the onion and garlic.

Drain the asparagus, reserving both the woody ends and the cooking liquid.

Stir in the flour and cook for a couple of minutes.  Gradually blend in the asparagus cooking water.  Then add the woody ends and cook for a further ten minutes.

Allow to cool, then purée in a blender.  Push through a sieve until you have an ultra smooth soup.  If you’re getting ahead, this is the time to freeze.

To finish:  Place 300ml/2 ladles/10 fl oz of the pureé per person in a saucepan with 50ml/¼ cup of full-fat milk.  This is entirely flexible.  Add milk to create the soup consistency you prefer.  Heat gently.

Griddle three slices of french bread and six asparagus spears.  Spread a generous dollop of goats’ cheese on the griddled bread and top with the asparagus spears.

Pour the soup into bowls, swirl on some double cream, top with chopped parsley or chervil and serve the goats’ cheese croutons on the side.

Eat.

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