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I’ve got a huge thing for purple. I’d say I have a huge purple thing, but that sounds like a cry for help or a weird flex. Anyway...
The wife and I were at the grocery store last week, hovering around the produce section, when I spotted it: purple asparagus. Right there next to the green and the white like it was no big deal. I’ve only ever seen it in pictures, so I made a mental note to grab some—assuming it would still be around when I was actually ready to cook. Other than staples, I don’t usually buy fresh produce in advance. In the meantime, I had to figure out what to do with it.
I assumed it wouldn’t taste all that different from the regular green stuff, and I was right. Maybe a little milder, but nothing major. It was thicker than I usually like my asparagus, but c’mon—purple. With Easter creeping up, I’d already been digging into spring dishes as alternatives to the rabbit I’d originally planned. (Rabbit’s expensive.) One of the suggested sides was asparagus risotto, and I thought the purple would look great in the dish. I just crossed my fingers that the color wouldn’t bleed into the rice and leave me with bland-looking asparagus bits and off purple rice. Because, as we all know, nothing bends the laws of physics like a good superstition.
Turns out the pigment wasn’t a huge issue. The anthocyanins—the stuff that makes it purple—don’t love heat. A quick blanch knocked a lot of the color out. I didn’t lose it all, though; the end result was a weird mottled purple-green, the Joker and the Riddler had some kind of unholy love child. It was just strange enough to be delightful.
The risotto itself was pretty standard fare. Normally with something that starchy, I like to throw in a little acid to keep things from getting dull. This time, I went with lemon zest. Good call. Since my wife is dieting (I’ve opted out entirely), I ended up eating the whole batch myself—and honestly, zero regrets. The only vaguely “foodie” thing I did was finish it with a little hot pepper oil. You can kind of see it in the photo, but the one pasta bowl I own (scored it at Goodwill just for pictures) is this weird pastel version of chili-oil orange, so visually it didn’t pop. Still, flavor-wise—with the lemon zest and a piss squirt of lemon juice—it totally worked. Kept the dish bright enough that I didn’t get sick of it halfway through.
Give it a shot. Even if you can’t find purple asparagus, it’s a solid dish. And it’s fun to cook. Making risotto is oddly therapeutic for me—it gives me an excuse to check out of the world and drop into that little pocket reality where it’s just me and the food. Very zen.
It works great as a side or a main. That’s all I’ve got.
Now go cook something. Or not. I didn't take you to raise.
