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The feast of kings

I don’t know what kings ate, but if they were smart, they would have dined on the sumptuous spears of asparagus to be found, wild, on stream or river edges. That’s where they grew in Columbus, Montana, although I had never eaten asparagus yet, so didn’t know the royal, wild vegetable I was missing.

As a child, only my father ate asparagus, and my mother cooked it for him—probably overcooked it, the way Grandma prepared it. The result would have been a mushy, Army green vegetable. To this day I refuse to eat anything that color. Properly cooked, the spears turn bright green and are eaten then,...


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