Beyond Burgers and Bratwurst

Asparagus is something that someone either loves or hates. When I was very young I loved it – my mother taught me to cut the tough ends off and eat the stalks backwards, from end to tip, to savor the best for last. As I grew older, my taste for asparagus waned, and it wasn’t until I shared a white asparagus soup with my father at the top of the Fernsehturm (communications tower) on the Alexanderplatz in Berlin that my love for white, and later green, asparagus grew.

In Germany, the asparagus season (Spargelzeit) is a very important time for farmers and consumers. White asparagus from Germany is considered the best in Europe, if not the world. Green asparagus, which is usually the only kind found in the States, is much more difficult to find here than white. Private stands for white asparagus pop up everywhere on random plazas, street corners, and bus stops, even without the presence of a farmer’s market. The Spargel is priced according to quality (as cheap as 2.99 Euros for a kilo and as expensive as 10.99), and it is worth the extra money for better quality – especially if you buy it fresh from the farmer whose workers picked the white treasures that morning.

Traditionally, Spragel is prepared by boiling the thoroughly-peeled stalks in water until tender and served with boiled, peeled potatoes, thin strips of black forest ham, and hollandaise sauce. Families will serve these fancy, painstakingly prepared meals on weekends, especially Sundays.

To me, Spargelzeit is another indicator of one of many differences between American and German culture: Spargelzeit is an event here that is centered around the preparation of fresh, locally-grown foods. My mother, who cooked the meal with my grandmother this weekend (coincidentally the same night I cooked my version of it), pointed out happily that her entire meal was prepared with ingredients from within a 100-mile radius. And it was normal! No skimping on ingredients, no worrying about having to substitute one thing for another. The fact that this meal is a tradition explains why this is so easy: most German cuisine is created from ingredients from the area. The fact that one can still do this today this has a lot to do with the fact that farm plots are much smaller, allowing for more variety within one area, whereas in the US corn fields can stretch for hundreds of miles without the introduction of another crop. A family in the Midwest trying to live off of ingredients within a 100-mile radius might have difficulty finding the variation my mother found in southern Germany.

However, Americans shouldn’t lose hope because of our farming practices. Locally-grown food is something many people seem to be striving for these days: not only the media-spotlight Michael Pollan with his book The Omnivore’s Dilemma, but also naturalists like “Wildman” Steve Brill who finds edible plants in Central Park indicate a growing trend to learn where our food comes from, and how we can eat responsibly. Some public awareness of our food choices are even penetrating the political field, for example in Daniel Imhoff’s newest book Food Fight, dedicated to explaining the Farm Bill which dictates what we eat, where it comes from, and how much of it we consume. I’ve read reports that people in New England forage for and gather wild foods like elderberries and chokecherries, and I grew up in the Willamette Valley, where the berry season was very important and people prided themselves on making homemade jams from u-pick fruits.

However, it seems to me that this awareness is only permeating a small portion of society: those who have the time, money, and luxury to spend preparing their food with extra care (one wonderful exception of this is of course Alice Waters’ “Edible Schoolyard” program). In contrast, here in Germany everyone seems to get excited about Spargel. People from college students to retired seniors, from businessmen to teachers get excited about this season and go out to try their hand at hollandaise and hope it doesn’t separate this year. In my opinion, this is an attitude towards food Americans should strive for. I’m not saying Germans have a 100% healthy attitude towards the food they eat. Last year’s Gammelfleisch scandal (meat that was sickeningly outdated was being sold in grocery stores all over the country) is an indicator of this. However, there’s something about the fact that the introduction of GM foods gets press time, that organic milk is only twenty cents more expensive than “regular”, and that a public discussion of what farming methods make foods “organic” that makes me feel we as Americans need to listen to the Pollans, Brills, Waters, and Imhoffs and become more educated about, and consequently create a closer relationship to, the food we purchase, prepare, and eat.

Hollandaise Sauce*

225g (½ lb) butter (unsalted, room temperature)
3 egg yolks
3 Tbsp water
1 Tbsp white wine vinegar
Salt and pepper to taste

Combine the pepper, vinegar, and 2 Tbsp water in a pot and reduce to 1 Tbsp liquid. In the top of a double boiler (or in a metal, heat-resistant bowl) combine eggs with remaining 1 Tbsp water.

Chop the butter into small pieces (ca. ½ tsp). Stir vinegar concentrate into eggs and place over double boiler (at which point you begin to whisk constantly!). Piece by piece add the butter to the yolks, putting the next piece in just before the last one has dissolved completely. This takes a while, but patience is essential in making this sauce turn out well. I actually held the top of the double boiler above the heat most of the time, being careful to control the warmth. Too much heat will make the sauce separate. It will thicken as you go, and when you’ve added the last bit of butter take the sauce off the heat completely, season with salt (and pepper if need be) and serve warm over white asparagus. Yields plenty to serve 6-9 people.

*Adapted from Culinaria, edited by Christine Metzger