As a kid, my parents grew asparagus
at the edge of our yard. One day a new neighbor moved in next door and they checked property lines, and overnight our asparagus
changed addresses. It was no longer ours. To get fresh asparagus I was
forced into a life of crime, actually stealing it from
my neighbor's gardens. That's how I feel about asparagus. Criminal. (light upbeat music)
Asparagus is special. It's been revered as a
vegetable since Roman times and it shows up in the oldest
surviving book of recipes. Its large native range
stretches east to west, from Spain to central China, and north to south from Siberia all the way down to Pakistan, but it has found adoptive
homes across the globe. There are decades-old
debates about which town or region owns the title of
Asparagus Capital of the World. I've put my own kitchen into the running, but I haven't heard back
from any officials just yet. Or really anyone at all,
now that I think about it. Asparagus is a perennial, which means that it'll pop up
every spring all on its own. If you start a patch in your garden, you can harvest asparagus
every year for up to 20 years. That ratio of planting
effort to harvest quantity is pretty unbeatable. If asparagus is grown in a region where it can produce throughout the year, it grows more spindly and less vigorous with each passing year. But in colder or drier climates,
it gets a chance to rest. I can totally relate. I get so spindly if I
don't get enough rest. Green asparagus is the perfect signal for the arrival of spring. But it's not the only color. You've also likely seen
purple and white asparagus. Purple asparagus gets its
color from anthocyanins, the same pigments that
give us purple cabbage, purple grapes, and, well, pretty much any purple vegetable or fruit. It is a different variety than green, whereas white is the result
of a different growing method. White asparagus is grown using
a technique called blanching, where soil is mounded around
the spears as they grow in order to block sunlight. That move limits photosynthesis,
which keeps chlorophyll, more like bore-ophyll, from forming. White asparagus is particularly
prized in France and Germany for its delicate flavor and tenderness. Beyond color, the biggest
differences between spears at the supermarket is usually thickness. Some are skinny, skinny, pencil-thin, others are thick as sausages. What gives? The thickness of a spear has
nothing to do with its age. That is, you can't leave a
skinny spear in the ground longer and hope it turns into a thick spear. It is determined by two factors, the age of the entire
plant, and its variety. So which size is preferable? Check out this experiment. We removed the woody bottom
of fat and skinny spears and tasted them side by
side, simply steamed. While both tasted sweet,
nutty, and grassy, we expected the
delicate-looking thin spears to be more tender, but they weren't. The thicker spears actually
had better texture. The reason: the vegetable's
fibrous exterior makes up a larger proportion in a skinnier spear. Okay, now it's time for
the Great Asparagus Debate, snap versus cut. And also, what about peeling? As a kid, it was my job to snap
the asparagus before dinner, and I just assumed you
had to snap the asparagus. That's all we ever did. At Cooks Illustrated, we've
tested this a number of times and come to a firm conclusion: snapping is wasteful and
completely unreliable. Check out this experiment. Here is a bunch of asparagus. Now, depending on where I apply force, I can get them to snap
pretty much anywhere I want. And even when I get the snapped
part to be pretty small, there's still a really good chance that I'm losing perfectly
good asparagus while doing so. Well, there is a better way,
and that's using your knife. Cut an inch from the bottom of the spears and then check to see what remains is nice and moist-looking, like this. Then you can use your vegetable peeler to remove some of the
fibrous skin, just like this. Snapping can result in a 50% weight loss, while cutting and peeling
results in less than 30% loss. Okay, now to switch gears a little bit, I just have to talk about a certain aroma that is really unique to asparagus. I'm not talking about how it
smells while you're cooking it, but more how it smells
after you've eaten it. Know what I mean? The fascinating thing
about this phenomenon is that it's been studied a
few times since the 1950s, and it's still not fully understood. What we do know is that there
are two traits involved. One trait determines whether
you produce the smell or not, and the other determines
whether or not you can smell it. So, in theory, the world breaks down
into four types of humans, make and smell, make and can't smell, can't make but can smell, and can't make and also can't smell. Move over, Myers-Briggs, we've got a new way to bluntly
categorize our fellow humans. Back to the grass at hand. Asparagus occupies the
same space in my brain as things like artichokes and lobster, that is, food so innately delicious, all they need is to be simmered in water and then served up with butter. But asparagus doesn't
demand special treatment. It's simple to prep, and shines equally bright
in countless applications. Let's go to the kitchen
and check some of them out. First up, raw. Asparagus is a salad star, as long as you know how to prep it. For this one, go with thicker spears, and then use your veg peeler to make thin, beautiful shavings. These shaved pieces add
incredible waft and texture to a salad. Then we just combine
our lettuce, watercress, asparagus, prosciutto and
pine nuts in a large bowl, and toss, toss, toss with our sherry vinegar vinaigrette. That is a thing of beauty. Next up, let's hit the grill. Again, we wanna go for thick spears, so they can hang on the grill for longer without over-cooking. Seasoning asparagus evenly
can be kind of tricky, because salt just loves
to bounce off the surface. One way to ensure even
seasoning is to brine them. Just poke them all over with a fork and then drop them into a
brine of four cups water and a half-a-cup of kosher salt. Let them soak for 45 minutes to an hour, then dry them and pop them on the grill. Mm, those smell so good as they char. We'll finish these off with a dollop of preserve lemon aioli and a sprinkle of sliced almonds. And I'm drooling. Finally, a cooking method that I bet you don't
associate with asparagus. Braising. Everyone knows that crisp,
tender, bright green asparagus is the best. What this recipe presupposes is, maybe it isn't? This recipe, by Cooks
Illustrated Executive Editor, Keith Dresser, may make
you question everything you know about asparagus cookery. After braising in a flavorful
liquid for almost 15 minutes, the spears trade their hallmark crispness for a silky tenderness, and their grassy profile
for a sweet, nutty flavor, and that bright green
color for subdued greens. We are breaking all of
the asparagus rules. And look at us, we're loving it! The key to this recipe is the prep. We'll cut off the bottom and then peel two-thirds
of the way up the stalk. Asparagus skin is covered with
an impermeable waxy cuticle that prevents water loss in the asparagus. Good for them, but it makes seasoning
them really hard for us. Check out this experiment. We cooked peeled and unpeeled asparagus in water that was dyed dark blue. You can see how far it
penetrates into the spears without their protective coating. Peeling and braising also leads
to the most tender asparagus you've ever hand, and it's really simple to do. I'll add my asparagus
to the skillet of water, broth, oil and salt. Then we just cover and simmer
vigorously until very tender, about 10 minutes. Then we just remove the lid and continue to cook until
the skillet's almost dry and the asparagus is beautifully glazed, just a few minutes longer. Finally, we gussy them up with
a little bit of lemon zest, lemon juice and chives. (whistling) Well, I'm in love. Whether you like it
raw, grilled or braised, or anything in between, this is definitely how to eat asparagus. Big thanks to my Mom and Dad for growing asparagus when I was a kid, and to all the scientists
who dedicated some of their life's work to
understanding asparagus smells. We have links to all of
the incredible recipes that I showed you today below this video. While you're down there,
hit like and subscribe. And when you get into the comments, you have to let me know, do you snap, and do you cut? Also, do you peel? We'll see you next time.
I'll save you some trouble:
Don't snap the ends off with your fingers cause it's wasteful. Use a knife and peel to reduce an end product with less woody stems. You do you, I guess, but don't waste.
He suggests trying to braise the asparagus, with no other reason why you should other than it tastes good. Simmer vigorously for 10 minutes or until super tender is what he calls a braise.
I thought we were gonna get something along the lines of 'if you cook watermelon really well, you can release more lycopene and get more nutrients out of it'.
It's just a basic asparagus video with a click bait as fuck title.
TL;DW. Why in the name of Satan should you overcook asparagus?
Did I black out while watching this or does he not actually tell us why we should overcook it?
Nope
I've learned over my years to just never trust any food video that says "You know the way you, your mom, your grandma, and your entire lineage has been cooking food? Well I spent 20 minutes trying it a different way and they're ALL WRONG. Stop doing it how everyone's always done it forever after thousands of years of testing, and switch to my way or you're an idiot"
I love asparagus! Thanks for showing me how wasteful the snap method is!
Overcooked asparagus is gross.
Don't tell me how to eat my asparagus.
man, I have enough of a tough time eating produce before it goes bad before starting to worry about wasting the woody ends of asparagus