Asparagus Tempura with Ginger Mayo and Matcha Salt

Jump to Recipe

We’re in peak asparagus season here in Ontario, and I’m trying my best to get my fill. Unfortunately, I am a bottomless pit when it comes to this green, so it’s an inevitability – I will never have enough. But I’m still down to try, and today’s Asparagus Tempura with Ginger Mayo and Matcha Salt is vital to that effort. I know what you’re thinking: If you love a vegetable so much, why deep fry it? Well, there is a method to my madness, which I will get to. But I promise you won’t lose the asparagus in this recipe. Asparagus is such a short and special season; it would be a shame not to showcase its star in all its glory. 

So why Asparagus Tempura? Asparagus is an ideal candidate for this type of deep-frying because tempura isn’t about covering up what it envelops; it’s about accentuating it. Tempura is famous for its light and airy texture. This featherweight batter allows the ingredient it encases to shine through. Tempura has a relatively short cook time, so vegetables more or less retain their natural flavours and textures.

The concept of deep-frying was introduced to Japan by Portuguese traders during the 1600s. But tempura got its foothold in Japanese culture by playing a vital role in the vegetarian cooking found in Buddhist temples. Its reach eventually expanded, and tempura became a popular street food in Edo (Tokyo’s former moniker). All this is to say, this batter is for vegetables. In fact, tempura is traditionally only applied to vegetables and some seafood. Meat is considered too heavy for this type of batter. 

The first thing we’re going to do is prep our asparagus by removing its woody ends. The base of an asparagus spear is quite rigid and fibrous, which makes it wildly unpleasant to chew. You can find where the tender spear begins and where the woody end, well, ends by gently bending the spear. The spear will naturally break along that line. If you don’t like a messy end, you can tidy it up with a sharp knife, but try not to take too much of the spear off. I left my ends messy, so I wouldn’t be deprived of even a morsel of the perfect green. If you’re keen to make this a zero-waste enterprise, you can save the woody ends for making stock. They impart a lovely flavour. 

Now, let’s talk about the batter. Tempura batter calls for a very short list of ingredients. Water, egg yolks, and cake flour. Oh, and salt, because you need salt always. To make tempura whisk an egg yolk and some fridge-cold sparkling water together. Drop a few ice cubes in there to keep it cool while you start preheating some neutral oil. We want the batter nice and cool, so it stays viscous enough to readily coat our asparagus. And we want the oil to be ready to go, the instant our batter is. If we leave the batter to sit, the flour will absorb too much moisture, which will take longer to evaporate once it hits the oil. This will result in a less crispy crust. And I think it goes without saying, we want a crispy crust.

When your oil is ready for you, add the flour to the water and egg yolk in one go. Here’s a technique I picked up from the excellent book Japanese Soul Cooking. Gather four chopsticks together and mix the flour into the wet ingredients by continuously plunging the chopsticks down. I know what you’re thinking, this doesn’t seem very effective. Well, that’s kind of the point. We want all the lumps and bumps in our finished batter. Not to gross you out, but we’re looking for the consistency of forgotten heavy cream. You know, the carton languishing in the back of your fridge for a hair too long? A whisk would do too good a job of integrating the flour into the wet ingredients. So we want this level of inefficiency from our mixing apparatus. Don’t strive for perfection. If the batter’s smooth, you’ve ruined it. 

The key to successful tempura batter lies in controlling the formation of gluten. Gluten is a product of the flour’s protein, it’s what gives bread its elasticity and telltale chew. We don’t want that here. We want as little gluten formation as possible. That’s why we’re using cake flour. Cake flour has the lowest amount of protein. Gluten forms the more a dough is worked, which is why we knead bread dough. Here we’re trying to achieve the opposite, so we want to mix our batter as little as possible. Hence, the gentle pushing motion and the chunky, clunky mixing utensil. 

I find it’s tidiest to fill a Collins glass with your tempura batter. Roll the asparagus in a small amount of flour. You don’t have to cake it in flour, a light dusting will do. Grab an asparagus spear by its head and dunk it into the batter right up to your fingertips. Don’t be too concerned if the crown of the asparagus spear isn’t fully coated. It’s the prettiest portion of the spear, I think it’s more attractive when it’s not obscured by the batter. But if you don’t agree, try to track down a taller glass or trim your asparagus spears so they fit the glass. 

Asparagus has a quick cook time, so does tempura. This pairing works for this reason because there is nothing worse than an overcooked asparagus spear and burnt tempura. The second you dunk a spear in the batter, introduce it to the hot oil. The oil should immediately bubble and sputter. If it doesn’t, your oil isn’t hot enough. You want to aim for an oil temperature of 350-360°F – have your candy thermometer handy. If all goes well, your tempura should emerge from the oil lightly golden with tempura’s telltale lacy, crisp crust. 

Serve your Asparagus Tempura immediately. And I do mean immediately, tempura starts to depreciate pretty quickly. No one wants a limp, soggy piece of tempura. Serve alongside some Matcha Salt and Ginger Mayo. If you’d rather go the traditional route, whip up some Tentsuyu. Whatever you choose, this Asparagus Tempura is sure to impress. 

Enjoy!