Stalking the Wildest Asparagus

This'll be a really short post. Just wanted to tell you internet folk about the time that C and I went in search of wild asparagus.

I guess it started my first year of working at Capitol Reef, when we got so very used to picking our own fruit off the freaking amazing orchards. This park likes to keep it a bit quiet but growing among the canyon walls are acres of apples, peaches, pears, quinces, mulberries, cherries, and apricots.

How easy the ranger makes it look!

We had so much fruit we had potlucks with all-fruit themes. So much fruit the deer were fat and happy. So much fruit that the orchard furrows literally run with apricot brandy (fermented apricot juice). So much fruit that the campground raccoons spent their nights rolling around the grounds, drunk on apricot brandy, drunkenly running into traffic!

So, the second season we were there, I guess we got a little cocky and went in search of the non-NPS sanctioned wild asparagus. A co-worker told us what area to look in, and with the advice "you'll know asparagus when you see asparagus", off we went.

Stalking the Wild Asparagus!

We walked a mile or so to the alleged asparagus location. It was an impromptu walk so I was in flip flops with no water, in the desert, in May. (Read: hot, uncomfortable, and a bit buggy). C and I wandered into an orchard that we'd never explored and split up, stalking for stalks.

Bolstered by our desire for amazing fresh (free) asparagus for dinner, we combed every inch of the weedy furrowed landscape. After 30 minutes or so, C found what she thought was the asparagus and called me over to consult. Since we should have known it when we saw it, I thought we should keep looking since we didn't know what this was and only the wildest guessing was taking place. However, an hour later, seeing no other asparagus-esque foliage, we headed back to the original suspect and began the harvest.

We probably should have guessed that since it was 3 feet tall and brushy, it was a few years old. But, cocky and hungry, we tugged the thing out of the ground and walked home.

yummmmy, just like store-bought asparagus

After rinsing sand and grit off our crop, C "prepared" the stalks, which included sawing, yes sawing, the things down so they'd fit into the stock pot. Another clue that things weren't right in asparagus-hunting world. Some of the asparagus was simply too tough to saw so we resorted to chewing it, and to general shenanigans. (Famous for our shenanigans, see our 70s party, or stay tuned for our international adventures)

All good asparagus needs to be gnawed on, right?

We managed to get a few measily stalks into our pot, steam them, and sit down for a lovely toddler-tall asparagus dinner. Perfect... yeah right. What really happened was we steamed the crap outta them hoping they'd soften up and after an hour, we were so invested in making this work that we vowed to eat them any damn way we could.

Here's the mental image I want you to create: C and I sitting at the kitchen table, gnawing on brushy tough steamed asparagus lightly seared with garlic and olive oil. We sucked as much asparagus-ness out of each stem before spitting the husks (they can only be described as "husks") into the trash can. We spent the meal laughing at how ridiculous we, and the situation, were.

It was not a very filling meal, but it was free and we did it all by ourselves.

The next day we learned that our asparagus was possibly several years old, nobody could believe that we'd messed it up that bad, and the good week-old asparagus was in the DITCH next to the orchard. Thank you, coworkers, for leaving out that tidbit....

Where was YouTube when we needed it!