Asparagus, Dill, and Feta Quiche

Eggs are always a go-to meal in our house. We always have an abundance from our biweekly delivery from Elmar, the Eggman. With asparagus at its peak right now the two ingredients combine well for a great, easy family dinner. This crustless quiche is perfect for a weeknight dinner or weekend brunch

While asparagus has a unique flavour, it is a mild green taste. That means it pairs well with so many other flavours. You could turn this into nearly any other flavour combination. Try asparagus with lemon, parmesan, and pancetta, or tomatoes and provolone. Perhaps cheddar, ham, and green onions with the asparagus. Or salmon and lemon. This time around I chose feta and dill, family favourites in my house.

Asparagus, Feta, and Dill Crustless Quiche

Serves 6-8 as a main course

1 tbsp butter

1/2 cup bread crumbs

1/2 bunch of asparagus

8 eggs

1 cup milk

1 tbsp chopped fresh dill

1 cup crumbled feta

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

2. Butter a deep dish pie plate. Toss the bread crumbs into the plate and roll around to cover the sides. Pat in an errant crumbs.

3. Clean and chop the asparagus into 1 inch pieces. Place in a small pot, season with salt, and add about 1 inch of water. Cook on high heat, covered, for 1-2 minutes. Drain immediately. Pour into a bowl and leave uncovered while you prepare the rest of the quiche.

4. Crack the eggs into a large bowl. Add the milk and whisk well. Season with pepper, a little bit of salt (the feta is salty, so you don't have to add that much). Add the 1/2 cup feta, dill, and the asparagus. Pour into prepared pie plate. Top with remaining feta.

5. Bake for 40-45 min until the top is puffy and golden. Let cool for 5 minutes before you serve.

Asparagus Week

It's the quintessential spring time food - Asparagus.

A fern poking from the ground. Fields that look like dirt with some random spikes reaching for the sunshine. The taste of green, of peas, of spring. The marking of the season in a land where winter lasts for bloody ever.

This week I'm going to showcase one of my favourite foods. Asparagus recipes, tips, and links.

Growing Asparagus

Here on the Prairies asparagus grows. Some might even argue that it thrives, if you treat it right and treat it as a perenial. That means you treasure it in the spring then let it rest. It goes to fern, filling the fields with a froth of green, over the summer. It survives the winter, it really does.

It takes 3 years for an asparagus crown to produce edible product. That means 3 years of patience and care. Then, with annual tenderness you have a lifetime of asparagus. Or, if you were my Mom's family, a lifetime of front yard decoration.

Picking Asparagus

Pick the stalks right from the ground. Let them be at least 6-8 inches tall before you snap them.

If you have the pleasure of visiting an asparagus farm, make sure you check out their pickers. These low-riders will take you throw the fields, saving your back, as pickers gather precious bunches for us lucky consumers.

Eating Asparagus

Contrary to expectations, you can easily and enjoyably eat asparagus raw. It tastes mildly of peas when raw (which means that is my least favourite way to eat it).

Often grown in sandy soil, asparagus can carry dirt to the dinner table. Fill your sink with some cool water and swish the stalks around to loosen any sand and dirt. If your asparagus has been sitting around for a bit then cut off the bottom ends and cook away. If your asparagus is fresh then don't bother trimming off the ends and wasting that precious veg.

The most important thing with asparagus, like nearly any vegetable, is to NOT overcook it. Steam it for a few minutes, grill it, roast it, or even boil it. Just don't overdo it.

Asparagus Types

With a slight tinge of purple on the heads, green asparagus is the most common kind we see.

More frequently, however, we see white asparagus in the markets and on menus. White asparagus isn't actually any different of a plant. It it regular asparagus that grows covered by dirt. That means that the plants are denied light and do not colour.

Sometimes you can find purple asparagus, although it is rare.

The rest of this week I will share with you three new recipes from me for asparagus as well as some links for more gorgeous recipes. Grab a spear and enjoy.

Enforcement

3 hours.

My 3 year old sat at the table an hour for every year the other night. Just because she wouldn't drink her milk. And because we told her she couldn't leave the table until she did just that.

She cried, she took a bathroom break, she fussed, she tried to play, she desperately worked us for conversation and entertainment. We continued on with our evening - working, cleaning up, putting The Monster to bed (even though she couldn't sleep because she is quite used to her sister in the room), and I even made caramel corn. For 3 hours she sat there. At that point I subbed out the milk with a cold glass. She spilled that one. I cleaned it up and gave her another one. With a nonchalance that belied the battle of wills she simply picked it up and drank it.

Right now you either think we are cruel parents or are filled with admiration for our stick-to-it-ness. Or you think we're dumb. I'm going with all three myself.

A rule is a rule. We don't care if they don't eat all their dinner. As long as they've tried everything on their plate, they can eat as much or as little as they like. But they have to drink their milk. (Very lovely goat milk, I might add.)

As for us parents, our rule is that if we start down a path we don't cave. If the other says something we don't contradict. So even though we had a pile of things to do and actually needed the dining room table, we worked around her. It was exhausting, I'll admit. I'm proud of all of us for sticking to it. And the caramel corn went really nicely with a scotch once it was all over.

(I used this recipe, but subbed the syrup for maple syrup, added pecans instead of peanuts, and crumbled in some cooked bacon with the popcorn.)

And don't tell the kid, but I'm impressed with her. That stubborness will do her well as an adult, if she makes it there.

What are some of your dinnertime rules? What's the longest you've had to go to enforce a rule?

Intentions

Hubby took me to a very fancy schmancy restaurant in the mountains for my birthday and this is the only picture my camera took.

We had a 7 course meal: the most amazing fois gras I've ever had, two things I'd never heard of before (compressed melon and dehydrated milk), wines that I'd never think to drink, a goose broth that needs to be bottled and sold as liquid gold, and a glorious sunset over the mountains. And I didn't take a single picture of it.

Don't get me wrong, it was gorgeous food. From artful but real presentations to sublime tastes to inventive techniques. It was a very memorable meal.

The memory will only live in my head, and maybe in my husband's. I did not photograph such a stellar experience because sometimes I just want my dinner to be my dinner. I have no intention of becoming a restaurant reviewer, so that documentation isn't necessary. And I have no intention of documenting everything I eat, Twitter is bad enough for that.

What I do intend to do, and this dinner practiced that intention, is to simply enjoy my food, enjoy my experience. Food writers need breaks too from thinking about writing about food. We want vacations and the only way we'll get them, since we always have to eat, is by putting down the camera and not composing sentences in our head as we chew.

Instead, I'm going to think how awesome my husband looks with the sun setting behind him and the look of joy on his face as he devours his favourite food. I'm going to pinch myself that I experienced such a luxurious treat in the midst of some stressful times. I'm going to look at my sous vide rhubarb and think it's cool, instead of wondering how they did it. I'm just going to eat.

No Pretense

I've tried to muster the enthusiasm for brisket, eggs, and the coming asparagus. I've tried to cook my family a dinner that is worthy of attention. I've tried to care to want to serve the girls more than bread with butter and honey. I've tried. I've tried. I've tried.

The truth is, I just don't have it in me.

Shopping, planning, cooking, writing, and even reading about food is at the bottom of my list of tolerable activities right now. My energy is devoted to not killing my kids when their energy gets the better of me, to answering the calls from my family when the last thing I want to do is talk, or avoiding the constant crooked finger beckoning of alcohol, sugar, and fat.

It would be easy to say that it's grief. And that would be true. My Dad, my dog, even grief over my old professional life. It's also burn out, insecurity, and the extra weight of life, life, life. I could say that the last 3 months have been killer, but so have the last 6, the last 9, hell the last 18! I could wallow in the crap that has happened from ski accidents to deaths. I could wallow, but then I really wouldn't get out of bed in the morning. And frankly, I don't actually want to wallow - it takes up too much energy.

I want to think about Happy Foods, to enjoy cooking, to get excited about being creative in the kitchen, to grab the girls and hit a farm. It just isn't there, though. I frankly don't give a rat's ass about food right now. I'm desperate for people to bring me casseroles or a pot of chili. I would do anything for my husband to decide to make Spanish Rice every single night.

On top of that, I really don't care to photograph or write about anything I do eat or cook. Hell, I posted a picture of a ridiculous can opener last week. My blog needs some quality control. Or a serious kick in the butt.

I wish I was the kind of person that could stock up on frozen meals or processed food. It really would make life easier right now. The fact that I haven't got there yet means something. It means that not all is lost. Somewhere inside is the person that I do know that I am, the person that ultimately does care whether my kids eat fruit in season and that we know our farmer.

Food blogging started as an outlet for me, a way to practice my writing and get me out of my comfort zone. Then it turned into my comfort zone. Now I'm not sure what it is. Mostly, it's a challenge and I don't mean that in a good way. But I made a commitment and for now I'm sticking with it. That commitment includes being honest and open. In doing that, however, I feel like the tone here hasn't been great. My frustration with life is certainly evident. Coming here must be like hanging out with a whining pessimistic friend - eventually it gets to you.

That doesn't mean I can suddenly pretend to be chipper and fake enthusiasm for another brownie recipe. Perhaps the asparagus will indeed snap me out of things, or maybe I'll find some fiddleheads somewhere? Or maybe time will simply allow my creativity and motivation to slowly creep back? Those girls of mine don't give us much choice. Just the other day, out of nowhere, The Monster asked me to cook some Czech food. Know any good recipes? I've got to find something for some new explorations or the middle aisles of the grocery store just might become my new home instead of the farmers' market. That gives even me a little shudder.

But I would still take any cheese covered casseroles left on my doorstep.

Mystery Object

Does anyone know what this is?

My Mom was cleaning out some drawers the other day and came across this potential torture device. We have our theories about what it might be used for, but I'm curious if anyone knows for sure what it is?

Happy Foods

Comfort Food gets all the attention. The creamy, cheesy, starchy, and heavy food that we seek when it's cold, when life is hard, when we need a bit of love and a set of arms to hug us isn't around. There comes a point when comfort food isn't enough or it's become too much. That's when we have to pull out the Happy Food.

Happy Food is the food that we love to grow, pick, cook, and eat. It gives us pleasure in thought, touch, smell, and taste. When you think of Happy Food you can't help but smile. In a way it is comforting, but instead of hiding in relief it bursts through you with peace or joy.

It might seem that Happy Food is seasonal. The snow finally melts, green things poke up from the ground, calves are suckling on the ranches. So we start thinking of the ease of warm weather and the fresh food that comes with it. We dream about sun-warmed tomatoes and fresh asparagus. The stews, baked pasta, and spices of winter kept us warm but they need to be put away for at least a few months.

I would argue that we need to find the Happy Food regardless of the time of year. Feed yourself to nurture the joy in your soul, not the pain. Feed yourself the food that fills you with pleasure long before one taste reaches your mouth. Feed yourself happy.

These are the things that feed me happy.

Tomatoes, warm from the bush, salted on toast with aioli, or slow, slow roasted and eaten like candy.

A good burger, preferably my husband's, or a thick, medium-rare steak.

Raspberries picked from the bush, and hopefully made into gecko fingers, and eaten one at a time.

Fresh peaches.

Ice Cream, of pretty much any flavour like Mint Chocolate Chip, Salted Caramel, or Strawberry.

Carrots thick with the flavour of the stock they flavoured in a long, slow simmer.

Poached eggs, peppered and placed on hash, last night's veggies, or sauteed greens with feta.

Maple syrup.

Brussels Sprouts. Roasted is the best way, but I'll take them any way I can get.

Pink Grapefruit, eaten in sections on cold, cold winter days. Best with company.

What about you? What are your happy foods?