It’s packed with nutrients, say dietitians. It contains a range of vitamins (C, A, K & E). It’s high in fibre. Plus, it has a mineral — chromium — which has been known to aid insulin in moving glucose from the blood to the cells; it can assist in fighting cancer; it’s known to assist in arresting cognitive decline. In other words, it’s right up there on the Recommended List of health foods. It is, of course, that popular spring vegetable: Asparagus.

Egyptian art dating back to 3000BC show these long green shoots with tender, spear like heads, being offered up as food. Roman emperors employed fleets of barges to transport it.

Apicius, a collection of Roman recipes dating back to the third century AD, contain one of the earliest written accounts of preparing asparagus for the table. Apicius, of course, as we all know, being the name of the Roman gourmet of that time.

Now, here’s the thing with asparagus. Despite all its health worthiness, in spite of all its merits as a dietitian’s dream, it is not everybody’s choice of cuisine, and for a very valid reason. As the Scottish mathematician and physician John Arbuthnot wrote in a book in 1731, “Asparagus affects my urine with a fetid smell.”

Marcel Proust, the French novelist, essayist and critic, writing nearly a century later, confirmed this, although, typical of a writer using literary devices to mask the strength of a fact, wrote that the asparagus was “transforming my chamber pot into a flask of perfume.” Having sampled this esteemed vegetable first-hand myself, on the recommendations of my GP, I can attest that ‘perfume’ is certainly not the term that floats into my mind when I hear the word ‘asparagus’.

Benjamin Franklin, too, frequently mistakenly named as an early president of the United States when he was in reality one of the Founding Fathers, tried getting pharmacists of that time (1780s) to find a drug that would counter these side effects — to no avail, it must be added.

Back in the 21st century, after some research, however, I have discovered that I need to be a tad more tolerant of this delicate little sprig of a vegetable. (When I say research, I mean my research of other more qualified scientists’ research. In effect, trawling Google for starters and then legging it to the local library for confirmation.) Anyhow, I’ve found that I oughtn’t to be laying the blame squarely at the door of the poor asparagus and leaving it at that. This is because asparagus, itself, is not to blame for this sometimes strange side effect. All that it is guilty of, apparently, is the production of asparagusic acid which, I’ve learnt, is found in asparagus alone.

Now here’s what really happens, allegedly. (One researching others’ research is always advised to insert the word ‘allegedly’.) Anyhow, what actually happens is that when our bodies digest this veggie, they break down the chemicals in asparagusic acid into various ‘sulphur-containing compounds’. As with substances containing sulphur (garlic) they generate a smell that is unpleasant. Additionally, these sulphur molecules apparently contain another trait. They are volatile, can vaporise easily, enter into a gaseous state at room temperature and go up our noses pretty quickly. However, asparagusic acid, allegedly, isn’t itself volatile. (And that’s what lets it off the hook, in my humble opinion.)

It is what happens in our bodies with the sulphur that alters its nature, turning it volatile.

What has this newfound knowledge had on my intake of the vegetable? Absolutely nothing, because, truth be told it’s doing a superlative job at keeping my insulin doing exactly what it should.

As with a good friend, you love him for all the good things about him and never acknowledge, or, simply overlook, the one weakness he may possess. That, in sum and substance, is my relationship with this ‘little green thing’ and I thought it worth sharing simply because its pros far outweigh its one dubious con.

Kevin Martin is a journalist based in Sydney, Australia.