back to basics (recipe: asparagus soup with ham)

Remember when Chicken Tender was a food blog?

Yep, I've gone pretty far off those rails. When I started this blog I swore to myself that I wouldn't publish my personal writing here; it's only caused me trouble in the past. I was planning to stick to chickens, and gardening, and food. Maybe little shreds of my efforts to learn important skills. But bit by bit, my stupid head-vomit showed up, just here and there at first, and then completely dominating of late.

Blogging is entirely about validation: your kids are so cute, your partner is so smart, your food is so delicious, your photos are so beautiful, your lifestyle is so inspiring, your writing is so eloquent, your projects are so creative, blah blah friggin' blah. Hey, I'm not above it. I need the validation, too. Still, there are kinder-gentler human needs fulfilled here as well, like the one that makes us reach out to ask, “Do you get it? Do you feel this way, too?”

But food writing is my first love, and I don't want to abandon it altogether. So as fun as it's been to explore the recent questions I've raised, I want to go vintage, if only once a week, and return to the one thing we all have in common: food!

A few weeks ago I was interviewed by Lisa Marie and Jim Lindenschmidt of Sweet Peas Podcast. (You can hear our conversation here.) Despite the Lindenschmidts' ease and generosity, which made me feel much more comfortable than I expected, I giggled my way through the interview, from sheer nervousness (definitely one of my less savory personality traits), and at one point nearly froze up altogether. That's when Lisa Marie asked what my family eats right now.

If she'd asked a year ago I would have waxed proudly about cultured foods at every meal, beautiful salads with fresh goat cheese, and other seasonal goodies, not to mention putting by for the winter and foraging. But now? Hmmmmm, not so much.

Real food writers are under a special pressure to perform by publicly practicing what they preach, at all times; Michael Pollan has written ruefully of being “caught” by a reader buying sugary cereal for his son, and as for me, I couldn't do much but shrug about the pizza boxes on my back deck when Courtney came to visit. I'm a leetle teensy weensy bit stressed at the moment, my friends, and where another person might buckle down and become even more committed, I tend to lose my grip.

I've always prided myself on keeping us in good food even as a low-income family, but I'm straining now, seriously straining to keep that going. Pizza has indeed made several appearances, as have pasta dishes that leave me feeling more tired than ever; we eat far too much cheese, and the kids have lots of PB&J, and forget my careful application of bone broths and cultured foods. A smaller budget means more grains and beans, less pastured meat, which means disrupted blood sugar, tiredness, and generalized irritability. Every “real food” meal I manage is an apology as much as a celebration.

A few days ago I was wondering aloud, “Aren't I the person who made mayonnaise from scratch, and soaked oats for two days, and diligently avoided gluten, and fermented everything in sight? What happened to all that?” Jeremy was quick with the answer: moving twice in two months happened. And living without electricity. And being very, very broke happened to whatever was left of all that. Good habits, I'm realizing, aren't something you build up one layer at a time, but rather cycles. Sometimes you're on the downswing, and other times the upswing, but rarely are you always on top. Being very, very broke can knock you off that pedestal dang-quick.

Every day I see new articles from writers who protest that good food – specifically pastured animal products from local farms – is not much more expensive, that people just need to stop buying luxuries and prioritize their food budget, that it's reasonable to “save money” by buying half of a cow or a whole pig at one time, or joining a CSA (both of which require large up-front payments), or growing a garden or raising chickens (both of which you're likely to lose money doing, at least for the first year).

Most of the time there seems to be a serious disconnect between the concept and the reality of low-income. I like to assume that most people are just doing the best they can with the knowledge, accessibility, and funds that they have, but sometimes it seems like food writers are living on another planet, one where it's never a debate between food and rent, or food and gas, or food and medical care, one where a family can slide right on through a jump from $2 to $12 for milk without skipping a beat.

Certainly, if most of your food money is going to outright junk food -- chips, soda, ice cream, crackers, lunch meat, individual cups of corn syrup-laden yogurt, pastries, breakfast cereal, frozen meals -- improvements can be made without much of a financial strain. And I guess this is what most food writers assume their readers are buying when hear complaints about the relative high cost of real food.

But I honestly believe that, for most people, it's not a question of satellite TV vs. raw milk, or a third car vs. a CSA buy-in, and it's insulting to assume otherwise. I find that most families are in my position -- trying to make good choices within a limited budget -- and we must take a more practical approach, based on a hierarchy of food needs and a good-better-best system for what we can afford at any time.

With such a late, wet spring we're just coming in to the tail end of asparagus here. The weather has been so mild and beautiful, it's easy to forget the blistering hot summer that should arrive any moment, with days so hot and bright you can't do anything but hop in and out of a cold shower and drink gallons of mint tea (and, okay, maybe the occasional ice-cold vodka lemonade).

If you don't have fresh asparagus in season it's perfectly fine to use frozen. This soup comes together in just a few minutes, and goes very well with a radish salad. The cream is optional but lends good body.

Asparagus Soup with Ham
1 onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 lb. pastured ham steak, cubed
1 lb. asparagus, sliced into 1" pieces
4 c. chicken broth or vegetable broth
2 thyme sprigs (or two pinches of dry thyme)
1 c. heavy cream, or half-and-half (preferably grass-fed, but at the very least, not ultra-pasteurized)

Heat 2 T. butter or olive oil in a soup pot over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the ham and cook through, stirring regularly, until barely beginning to brown.

Add the asparagus along with the broth and thyme sprigs. Bring to a low boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat, stir in the cream or half-and-half, and season to taste with sea salt and black pepper.

Enjoy! (And don't miss Fight Back Friday @ Food Renegade!)