Asparagus and Grandma

This summer the store coolers have been full of delicious asparagus, often on sale.  Asparagus is yummy tucked into an omelet with a few slices of garden tomatoes on the side, but usually I just like to lightly sautee' it.

Because that's how Grandma used to cook it.

I'd be visiting and it would be getting on toward dinner time.  And her eyes would pop open wide, as if she'd just thought of the most magical idea.  And she'd sayd, "Let's get some asparagus fresh out of the garden and have it for dinner!!" 

Grandma was like that.  Life was an adventure.  Even asparagus.

I don't remember asparagus landing very often on the dinner table growing up . . . if ever.  But it was always right at home on Grandma's table.

Out she'd be, digging around in Grandpa's garden, fiercely avoiding any stalk looking a little woody and bringing in a nice handful of the youngest, most tender asparagus.  For me.  Company.

Butter melting, the delicate stalks gently pushed around in the stainless steel Revere Ware pan until they were just crisp-tender and then slid onto melamine plates.  I liked the white ones with the bands of green and turquoise around the outside.

There was probably a little dish of applesauce and a ground beef patty to go along with it, but the asparagus was the star.  And we'd savor it and ooh and aah over that summer flavor.

And that's what I think of when I see a bunch of tightly banded asparagus on sale in the grocery store.

A summer dinner with Grandma.