Months of eating game, root vegetables, cabbages and winter greens make the arrival of asparagus feel like it's a fresh new world. Even though I know that I'll have eaten far too much of it by the end of its short season, I never tire of it.

There are endless ways to cook asparagus. If it has just been picked, shave it raw into salads. This makes a sophisticated treat, especially when it's paired with thin slices of fennel, quartered cherry tomatoes, a scattering of shallots, a few juicy black olives and some shavings of pecorino cheese.

This salad is perfect on its own as a starter or as part of a plethora of dishes for a long weekend lunch. Try it, too, with a piece of grilled sourdough toast which first has been rubbed with the cut side of a garlic clove and then drizzled with olive oil.

Asparagus has a superb texture and taste - if it's cooked well. The knack is to steam the stalks upright so that the softer tips cook less ferociously than the sturdier bases.

Timing varies according to the thickness of the stalks, anything between 8 to 10 minutes. Softness in asparagus is a cardinal sin; the stalks are cooked to perfection when they feel a little resistant when you bite into them. Al dente, that deceptively simple description for the sought-after texture, is a delicate balance between too crunchy and softly insipid.

As with so many treats such as this, the simplest way of eating asparagus is often the best. Who could resist asparagus dripping in a nutty beurre noire, or coated in a rich, creamy hollandaise sauce, with fresh bread to mop up the juices?

Too often I have been tempted to over-complicate my approach to this subtle vegetable. It is good in risotto, and I occasionally have loved it tossed in a warm truffle dressing with bitter lettuce leaves, but these recipes will never compete with the classics.

Last year I spent an afternoon with a wonderful Spanish cook who tossed his runner beans in olive oil before toasting them on an open fire. The memory of the blackened, salty skin with the fresh flavour of the beans prompted me to chargrill some asparagus last week, and I have now added this recipe to my small list of classics (see below).

Anchovies melted in lemony butter or olive oil make an exceptional dressing for it. Pour the same dressing over fresh fish, on bread, drizzled over salads or mixed into soft, green lentils to add some punch. The combination produces an easy and elegant alfresco starter or light lunch. Pair it with a poached egg and some sautéed breadcrumbs and you have a spectacular supper dish.

THE RECIPE

Cooking time: 10 minutes; preparation time: 5-10 minutes; feeds 4

2 bunches asparagus

12 anchovies

2 cloves garlic, crushed

100g butter

Zest and juice of half a lemon

A small handful of parsley leaves, roughly chopped

1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

About 4 tbsp medium-grated parmesan

Snap off the bases from the asparagus, about an inch from the bottom where you can feel a natural give. They will snap off easily at the right place. Put the spears in an asparagus steamer or upright in a tall, narrow saucepan with a few inches of water. Steam for 4-5 minutes or until they feel a little under-cooked. They will cook a little more on the chargrill so don't overdo them.

Meanwhile, melt the anchovies in the butter over a low heat with the garlic, stir in the lemon zest and juice and keep warm. Coat the asparagus in the olive oil and chargrill on a high heat until they look nicely charred in places and tender.

Put on hot plates, season with freshly ground black pepper and pour over the anchovy dressing. Sprinkle with the parmesan and chopped parsley and serve. This is delicious served with a poached egg for each person and bread to mop up the dressing.

More of Thomasina's recipe ideas:

Cooking with broad beans, chick peas and rice

How to cook smoked mackerel

Recipes with parsley oil

Three healthy meat-free spinach recipes

Cooking with frozen peas, sausages and parsnips

Nice as paella

A gastronomic tour of the Iberian peninsula

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