My grandfather used to grow all the asparagus that was served in the fancy hotels in Savannah five or six decades ago. When I was a young sprout, I discovered the old, untended rows of the stuff (it comes up from root-like thingys and can take up to three years to start producing).
Well, my grandfather and I rehabilitated the asparagus; three rows a hundred yards long. I wish we'd have left it alone. The asparagus that this morning was eight inches long and perfect for cutting, this afternoon is three feet tall, looks like a small tree and has berries all over it. Thus, in order to justify the hard work we put in on rehabilitating the stuff, we had to cut it three times a day to stay ahead of it.
I like asparagus with scratch Hollandaise. Wunnerful stuff, that. But with 300 yards of plants, we had asparagus every way it can be prepared. And there just aren't that many ways. We had asparagus coming out of our ears. The entire house smelled like, well, you know. We had the chickens working overtime for eggs to make Hollandaise, we had it in omlettes, we had it steamed till it was still crunchy with Hollandaise (I can still hear my arteries clogging up). My grandmother came up with Squirrel Pilauf with Asparagus. And after we had exhausted our imaginations, we started giving it away to all takers. Three hundred yards of well cared for asparagus will produce a bushel of asparagus a day, NO problem.
Remember Mickey Mouse as the Sorcerer's Apprentice? Same thing, but with asparagus instead of brooms.
francois