Spring Fever

In Germany, few food rituals are observed with as much fervor as the white asparagus harvest. Jason Wilson heads to the land of Spargel to eat himself silly.

BY THE TIME Jarrived for dinner, I was in a full-on asparagus frenzy. All afternoon, I had been following part of the 84-mile asparagus trail” that passes through the German state of Baden-Wiirttemberg, stopping at tiny roadside markets marked by giant white plastic models of the vegetable, or hand-painted signs announcing FRISCHER SPARGEL fresh asparagus). When I got to Simianer Spargelh of spargelhof-simianer.de; entrées 15—-$25), on the outskirts of Hambriicken, I followed a path through rows of dirt mounds, beneath which lay what Germans call white gold.”

Inside the restaurant, a crowd of diners devoured white asparagus in every preparation imaginable. I sat by myself at the end of a common table; at the other end a large man with red cheeks was tucking in to an enormous plate of schnitzel accompanied by a stack of plump asparagus spears. I ordered asparagus soup, an herb pancake topped with asparagus slices, and, finally, the classic preparation: a half-dozen steamed stalks doused in Hollandaise sauce and served with potatoes. The server asked, Is someone else with you?” When I told her no, this was all for me, she shook her head.

I glanced at my dining companion at the end of the table. I think I ordered too much,” I said sheepishly. Eh,” he said, with a shrug. It’s mostly water anyway.”