I recently revealed that I'm not a fan of steamed vegetables. While collaborating with a knowledgeable expert in Asian cuisine, I discovered they had a strong distaste for Japanese food, attributing it to its lack of allure, particularly due to its reliance on steaming. They even joked about the Japanese eating pollywogs, questioning who would consume such a thing.
While I can't say I intentionally indulge in pollywogs myself (though I'm sure I inadvertently swallowed some pond water during my woodland adventures as a child), I do have a deep appreciation for vegetables. And with the arrival of spring, asparagus has made a triumphant return to the market in abundance.
For those concerned about "healthy" or "lean" recipes (which is an interesting term, because unless you print the recipe in a narrower column than usual, I fail to see how a recipe can be "slender" – but as my regular readers know, grammar isn't exactly my forte...), here's some good news: you only need a few tablespoons of oil for a few servings to roast an entire baking sheet of asparagus. And because oil expands when heated, there's no need to drown everything in a deluge of oil. (And despite succumbing to what that woman was so fearful of, you can actually go easy on the oil in the recipe below.) But when you have olive oil as exceptional as the one I picked up in Sicily, it's hard not to be a bit generous with it.
White asparagus tends to be more popular in Europe, but I'm firmly declaring myself a green asparagus enthusiast. They're just so much more flavorful, and you don't encounter the occasional bitter spears that can sometimes plague the white variety. But everyone has their own preferences. And while we might all wish for universal agreement – especially me – the (food) world is richer for the diversity of tastes and flavors that each person enjoys in their own unique and special way. Right?
Just to keep things transparent, I always opt for the fat stalks of asparagus rather than the "slender" ones. The thicker stalks tend to be less fibrous compared to their narrower counterparts. So I suppose you could say this is a "wide" recipe, in a sense?