St Georges Day - Spears and such.

Today is the Day of the Patron Saint of England. In Wales, on St David's day they hold eisteddfods (a Welsh cultural festival involving music drams and especially Poetry) in schools and give the kids a half day, everyone wears a daffodil or a leek showing their Welshness, In Scotland on St Andrew's day you can't move for tartan and the Saltire painted on faces. I'm sure I don't need to explain the joyous chaos of St Patrick's day. However, in England the Day of St George passes almost without comment. It might be that much of the imagery has be hijacked by racist thugs, or it might be that there is a sense of English reserve but whatever the cause, we English don't really shout about it.
Nature does not keep a diary, after millenniums of adaptation, crops appear when their genes tell them there is the greatest chance of success and not on a certain date. Part of being human is feeling the need to codify, explain, organise and hold fast to structure which is why we like to "have dates in the diary".
The English Asparagus season runs from St Georges Day (23rd April) to Midsummer's day (21st June) which has a certain poetry about it, but in our hearts we know that the new years spears might arrive a little bit early or late and, indeed the crop may be finished before the longest day.
I make no secret of my love for asparagus. For me it is the final curtain being drawn on the, so called Hungry Gap where, historically, fresh food was scarce and we all survived on preserved foods and cabbage. Asparagus is clearly a vegetable of early Summer whereas the joy that is purple sprouting broccoli clearly belongs to late winter or, at best, early spring.
My fascination with seasonal foods and, if necessary, the preserving of them, grows from my parents' allotment in the 1980s. Picking vegetables at the right time was something my late father took great pride in. He would joke that it would be better to bring the boiling water to the runner beans rather than let them deteriorate on the 10 minute cycle home.
To this day I struggle with the idea of strawberries at Christmas, or parsnips in June. This is not born from sense of pious duty to the seasons its just that I have always been a person who looks forward to things and last week when I saw the first Herefordshire asparagus on sale my heart jumped.
There has been a enormous amount written about how to cook asparagus and I'm sure there is a degree of Michelin Stared perfection to be gained in some of those methods, but really, we are just making supper. Having snapped them to ensure the tender stems are eaten drop them in boiling water for a few minutes and serve, it is the exemplar of fast food. Serve it piping hot with butter (no substitutes will do) and a fried egg on top (Duck eggs are especially good in this regard). Above all keep it simple.
Incidentally, I keep the woody hard stems in the tiny ice box at the top of my fridge and build up the quantity as the season progresses. When I have a bagful, I boil then in a little light vegetable stock, whizz then in a liquidizer add some cream, season and serve with freshly baked bread and enjoy.
Please do not be very English about the amount of Asparagus you eat, you have about eight or nine weeks so go a little bit mad (in a very English way, of course) and feast.
Finally, I wish you a very happy Asparagus season, the cold glory of brussels sprouts and parsnip is dead, long live the spears of summer!