Asparagus Has a Best Friend (and It's Not What You Think)

Every spring, right around the time the asparagus stalls take over the farmers market, someone wanders into the shop with the same apologetic question: "Is there any cheese that actually goes with asparagus?"

There's a reason people ask. Asparagus has a reputation as the boogeyman of pairings — its sulfur compounds (the same ones responsible for that other asparagus phenomenon you don't talk about at dinner parties) can clash with the wrong cheese and turn a beautiful bite metallic. Wine writers warn about it. Cookbooks tiptoe around it. Generations of would-be cheese boards have been quietly demoted to "veggies and dip."

But here's the thing: it's not asparagus's fault. It's a casting problem. Pair it with the right cheese, and spring asparagus is one of the most generous things you can put on a plate.

Here are three from our shelves right now that prove it.

Burrata — for the rawest, freshest asparagus you can find.

Our burrata is the easy answer and also the right one. Find the thinnest asparagus you can (pencil-stalks, ideally), shave it raw into ribbons with a vegetable peeler, and dress it with good olive oil, lemon zest, and flaky salt. Tear a ball of burrata over the top. That cool milky cream wraps every grassy, mineral note in velvet. This is the dish I make the first genuinely warm Saturday of the year, every year — usually standing at the kitchen counter, eating it straight off the cutting board.

Calderwood — for grilled asparagus, char marks still smoking.

Calderwood — our hay-ripened beauty from Jasper Hill Farm — is a raw cow's milk cheese aged in finely-shredded hay from the pastures surrounding the dairy. (Yes, really. They coat the wheels in it for four months.) The result is firm, nutty, and complex, with notes of caramel, chestnut honey, toasted bread, and tropical fruit. Those toasty, sweet flavors find every grill mark on a charred spear of asparagus and shake hands with them. Shave Calderwood warm over the grilled spears, crack some black pepper over the top, and try not to eat the entire plate before anyone else gets a fork in.

Soprano — for roasted asparagus, the kind with the crispy tips.

Soprano is Valley Shepherd Creamery's cave-aged sheep's milk wheel from Long Valley, New Jersey — raw milk, aged on ash wood slabs, rubbed regularly with olive oil during ripening. The paste is granular and crystalline, with nutty, smoky, fruity-sweet flavors and these unexpectedly floral notes (they remind me of waxy white flowers — a description that sounds made up until you taste it). Roast asparagus hot and fast until the tips go a little frizzled and crispy, squeeze half a lemon over the pan, and grate Soprano over the top like it's parmesan. Spoiler: it's better than parmesan here.

If you want to taste all three side by side, come by the shop this week — we'll put together a Spring Asparagus Trio and send you home with enough inspiration to last until the season turns. Bring a bunch of asparagus on your way home and you've got dinner.

The whole "asparagus and cheese don't get along" thing? Just a misunderstanding. Let's clear it up this week.

Warmly, Megan