The finest vegetable of them all
Above: William Haines
Above: Unbeatable asparagus
JOHN Tomes climbs down from his tractor for a few minutes’ chat. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I could do with a break!”
To his right – the whole way down the field – are the high ridges he’s spent the day creating; to his left is the flat ground he’s yet to tackle. “You can manage about five acres a day here in Chipping Campden,” he says. “Down at Evesham, you could probably do 18 acres because of the soil. It’s tough-going here.”
Underneath those ridges snooze the asparagus crowns which, as the spring air turns warmer, will begin to stir. Asparagus provokes strong opinions – not least of which is how best to grow it. Some cultivate it on the flat. Here at Haines Farm, they grow it on the ridge; it produces a better spear, they say. The bank of moist soil swaddles the shoots as they grow up from the crown. In the early weeks, the beds will be covered; but once the weather warms, the covers are lifted unless the nights turn cold.
By late April, the early young shoots are ready for cutting and, hey presto! The first English asparagus of the year. This plant, nicknamed ‘white gold’ and known as an aristocrat among vegetables, has the shortest of seasons – from Shakespeare’s Birthday to Midsummer’s Day. As devotees will tell you, half the pleasure lies in its rarity value.
“There’s an old saying: there are two things that kill asparagus. One is weed and the other is greed,” says William Haines, who runs the 2,000-acre farm with his brother, Martin. “If you cut too late, the crown doesn’t have chance to recover for next year.”
Like John Tomes, William has a long association with this gem of a market town. In the churchyard down the road lie three generations of Haines, back to great great grandfather George Thomas. William has worked on this land almost since he could walk, and his 19-year-old son has become the sixth generation to farm on the same spot.
Asparagus is a relatively new crop for this traditional mixed farm. Until recently, it was a rich man’s vegetable, more likely to end up on a bone china plate than a rough bit of crockery. But technology and the supermarkets have changed all that. Make no mistake – it still has to be cut by hand; no machine will do it. But nowadays, it can be produced much more cost-effectively and, over the last decade, asparagus growing has quadrupled across the country. The Haines family moved into asparagus six years ago; the 40 acres they’ve turned over to the crop produced around 60 tonnes last year.
“You can’t beat English asparagus. It’s slightly slower growing – not so full of water – and so it’s far better on taste,” William Haines says. “It’s to do with our cooler climate. If you can imagine it being grown in Peru at this time of year, they have to give it so much water to keep it alive. It’s the same principle with Aberdeen Angus beef that’s been slowly matured; or even with soft fruit. Strawberries from Israel just don’t taste the same as outdoor strawberries in Wimbledon week.”
Here’s a man who can’t understand why you’d buy a Japanese tractor when there were Masseys around; why any true Brit would invest in a Suzuki. “I’m patriotic,” he says. “On this farm, we drive Land Rovers built in Coventry. Wherever we can, we always buy English machinery.” Whether you’re talking about goods taken from the production lines of factories or vegetables pulled from English soil, he feels the same way. “It’s ridiculous to fly calabrese in from America when there’s plenty of cabbage around. If you’ve got sprouts, cauliflower, spring greens and purple sprouting on the shelves, isn’t that enough choice? You don’t need runner beans out of Kenya or marrows out of Spain!”
Like most farmers, he’s convinced the climate is changing, and it worries him. “The old saying used to go, ‘March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb’. And then in April we’d have showers. Yet three years ago, we had severe east winds and February was dry. Last March, we were irrigating crops and by July we were flooded.”
Yet even with its perversities, the unusually warm weather is being kind to England’s asparagus growers. In the height of a warm summer, you can begin cutting it at one end of a field; then, when you’ve finished at the other, you’ll find it’s grown enough to go back and cut it again the same day. Last year was a bumper crop, and this year looks set to follow suit. The growers’ worst fears are cold winds, which cause the asparagus heads to turn away. Although the taste is as pure as ever, the supermarkets won’t take spears that are twisted. These will end up at wholesale markets instead.
“Supermarkets demand excellence,” William says. “Broad beans are a classic example. You don’t eat the pods but, even so, we have to make sure we keep them clean. They don’t want even a bit of chocolate spot, though it doesn’t hurt what’s inside. That pod has to be green.”
Perfection is the demand of today’s shopper, who has the money to pay for it. They want the best of the crop, which – in the case of William’s asparagus – goes straight to the shelves of top outlets such as Sainsbury’s and Waitrose. The farm is also part of a cooperative, Western Asparagus Growers Ltd – a band of farmers who work together, pooling machinery, knowledge and marketing powers.
As eager shoppers wait for the first of the crop, William Haines will be sharing their anticipation. There’s nothing better, he says, than asparagus cooked for four minutes in boiling water, then served with lashings of butter.
“If people are looking at a traditional English veg, it’s one of the first to come on season. And you can’t beat it: it looks good; it’s full of the right things – and then there’s the sheer taste of it.
“Why do you need to eat these fancy yoghurts when, if you eat fresh veg, they’ll do exactly the same for you? I could munch on raw vegetables until the cows come home!”
And he shakes his head at the perversity of anyone who could contemplate buying okra when the finest vegetable of them all – English asparagus – is on the shelves.