I remember...

"May in Germany. That’s when the Spargel (Asparagus) season is announced. Yes, announced. Spargel is a declared product. You can’t harvest it till the authorities say you can, and you can’t harvest it after they declare the season over. But when the season’s on, Spargel is worth the trip.


I never thought asparagus would cause any serious inconvenience to my daily routines, but that changed during my twenty years plus of life in the suburbs of Heidelberg. It happened every spring. Usually in early May.


August Reidel, my neighbor, would inform me that the next morning we would drive to Schwetzingen, some ten miles away, to get “the best Spargel in Germany.” On some mornings, in pre-dawn darkness, a whole caravan would ply the two-lane road between Heidelberg and Schwetzingen. Most drivers would stop at the Spargel Markt in front of the Schwetzingen Castle, but August always drove south out of town to a field on the edge of Graben-Neudorf where Hans Durer, bearing baskets of newly-cut pure white asparagus stalks, would materialize out of the twilight mists.


After a brief haggling session, we would take the baskets and drive back home, making sure the baskets were secured in the Riedel cellar before even a single ray of sunshine could touch even a single stalk. Once a week, this was our routine during the month of May, sometimes beginning in late April, occasionally extending into early June. And the routine ended as abruptly as it started. Teutonic madness over this ancient relative of the lily family would be over for another year.


Germans are not the only Europeans with a passion for asparagus, but they are the most devoted to the idea of white asparagus. Purists, like August, won’t even consider Spargel from supermarkets or grocery stores, because undoubtedly it will have had some contact with sunshine and thus been threatened with a change of color.


Agricultural records from Classical times show that this delectable vegetable grew wild in sandy marshes along the Mediterranean in Italy, France, and Spain. Ancient recipes required the tips to be purple (common today in most Mediterranean areas – for a little flavor, say the cooks). The Romans taught the English to eat what they called “sparrowgrass,” from which the word asparagus derived, but the Anglos insisted on eating it green, a habit passed on to Americans.


While Germans tend to agree that the best asparagus is grown around Schwetzingen in the Rhine Valley and will admit also that very good asparagus grows near Kitzingen in Upper Bavaria and along the shores of Lake Constance, they disagree widely on how best to serve it. That’s why there are dozens of different dressings and flavor combinations. Some restaurant menus may run to three pages touting various presentations. Purists prefer a mild lemon butter with a side dish of boiled ham, because it allows for a delicate wine to accompany this otherwise difficult-to-match-with-wine spring time specialty. A hollandaise sauce along with an Eierkuchen, a pancake-type omelette is a close second.


Raising Spargel is labor intensive. There are no machines for trenching, mounding, weeding, tilling, and cutting. It is all done by hand. The rows of mounds may seem only a foot or two high, but the trenches beneath approach six feet or more so the stalks can grow upright without breaking the surface. All Spargel work is done by hand. With love. Spargel production is part-time work. No one makes a living growing Spargel. Families do it after work and early in the morning, before dawn.


Spargel quality is determined by thickness, length, and tip texture. Stalks must be peeled deep to be tender, and the peelings make for great soup. Don’t waste money on vertical cooking pots; Spargel cooks best lying flat in water of uniform heat in a pan big enough to prevent crowding.


Whether you cook it at home or take it in a restaurant, you’d best hurry. The season is short and ends almost without warning. It’s a good idea to plan your business travel to Germany during May."