Confessions of a closet vegetarian

Asparagus has no horns or feathers which makes me like eating it very much. God knows why I keep suggesting that I am a vegetarian, but it makes me feel less guilty. Fergus Henderson doesn’t feel guilty about about eating all and every piece of any creature worth the effort of killing and eating, and when I eat in his restaurant I am a devotee of his gospel. Give me a plate of marrow bones and parsley and I’m happy. I just can’t do it in the privacy of my own home. How did I become the reverse of a closet carnivore? I can only do it in public. Leaving the bones and blood aside, I do enjoy asparagus. Sadly, the French have a passion for fat, white asparagus which is good in its way, but is definitely not the dog’s. Green asparagus is maybe one of the only things that I miss from my previous life in perfidious Albion. I have an asparagus pan that does good service, but a frying pan of boiling water does the same job – it doesn’t look as good, but it certainly tastes the same. I very much like the satisfying snap of an asparagus stem which happens when separating the woody end from the tender green stem and tip. Crushed hard boiled egg yolks, olive oil, salt and black pepper make a perfect dressing for simply cooked asparagus. Eggs have a great affinity with asparagus which is easily confirmed by dipping a spear of it into a soft boiled egg. This is a very good thing which tastes as it should and looks even better. Think about that, because it’s a rare event. The poulet aux noix that I cooked a couple of days ago looked like hell but tasted like heaven. With asparagus you get heaven squared. Although I rant about my problem with eating meat, I appear not to have included the pig as totally meat – more a very thinly sliced pink vegetable. I’m aware of the stupidity and am currently shrinking away from my own psyche as I write. However, I will brazenly admit that prosciutto and asparagus are pretty good bedfellows. Should I have said bedfellows, bedmaids or bedmates? I think I might have mistaken myself for someone who gives a flying casual acquaintance.


About Food,Photography & France

Photographer and film maker living in France. After a long career in London, my wife and I have settled in the Vendee, where we run residential digital photography courses with a strong gastronomic flavour.
This entry was posted in Cooking, Digital photography, food, Food and Photography, France, Photography, Photography holiday, summer, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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