Recently here in Berlin we have been somewhat blessed by little wisps of white, floating on the breeze. I look out of the window and I can see these bits of cotton here and there, anywhere in town it seems. It seems obvious that they are coming from some trees or other, but I am a bit challenged as the parlance goes, concerning trees. Birds now, I can rattle off your English and your German names as well, but trees? Hmm, not so good.
In my teaching of English as a foreign language to Germans, I often throw out questions to them
to compare things in America to here in Germany. Recycling, cell phones, hot water heaters. This time it was little wisps of cottony stuff floating almost wherever you look.
They said, unanimously I believe, that the stuff came from Pappeln, poplar trees in English. Oh, I said, having in my mind a generic picture of a poplar as a tall thin columnar tree which you often see lining roads in pictures of Tuscany and other such romantic places. I further told them that I remembered back from Denver that at some time of year you would have a similar phenomenon, but it would come from a different tree altogether, which we call a cottonwood. The stus got a laugh out of that, after translating cotton back into German: Baumwoll, to get Baumwollbaum. We laughed.
So today I went online to expand my knowledge of this poplar tree which causes these spring snow flurries to fall. I find it's a large family of trees which include the aspens, those lovely trees with the gold bark and bright yellow leaves when they turn in autumn, up in Colorado's Rockies. And - hey! What do you know. The family also includes my 'completely different tree', the cottonwood. Did I feel sheepish. But online here too, I then asked my brother if the same phenomenon was going on now there too, back in Denver. He said no, but he remembered that cottonwoods do that too at some point in the year.
Well. I think of myself as a bit of a naturalist, in some respects. I am a birder, am interested in sky phenomena and astronomy; but as I say trees and plants are not my strong suit. Now with birds, it is interesting to compare the avifauna of Europe with that of North America. The species on the two continents are different for the most part, though many are related. So you will find jays on both land masses, but the lovely though raucous Blue Jay looks quite different than the mostly tan european Jay. As I understand it this is tied to the geological history of the Earth, the continents having once been one connected land mass. As they parted, the species became differentiated more and more over time. A few kinds are interestingly the same on European and North American soil however, like the Magpie, or Elster as they say here in Germany. Same bird.
Having read about this, I naturally assumed the same to be true for trees, and indeed it does seem to be. The cottonwood is in the same family as the Black Poplar of Europe but is a different species. I'm learning. For example, I have always loved the word sycamore. What a lovely name for a tree, one which I thought was a peculiarly North American kind. On researching, I see that again I was wrong - it's a member of the plane tree family, which is found throughout Europe too with other species. In German it's Platane. I've heard of them, sure, but never connected them with sycamores because I never really knew what a sycamore looked like, just liked the name.
You know:
Pennies in a stream
Falling leaves - a sycamore
Moonlight in Vermont
But to go back to the topic, yes the tree species on the two continents seem to have split over the eons into different versions of similar trees. Interesting, like the birds.
In North America there are many more different species of birds than in Europe, also because of geologic history, as I have read. During the various Ice Ages, the ice sheets covered all of Europe down to the Alps I believe, wiping out many species which had been there before. As the ice receded, only animals which had been able to survive in more southerly areas were able to repopulate the country. In North America on the other hand the ice only came down to the middle of what is now the United States of America; hence there was still a great buffer zone to the south for birds to retreat to - the continent was not competely covered. The birds simply moved north again as the ice receded. More species survived.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Asparagus Time
Here in Berlin, Germany's capital, there's a delightful, a quaint, even to say a delicious aspect of the culture which rolls around this time of year, from April to June or thereabouts.
Yes, as the title up there says, it's the Asparagus Season. Asparagus, Spargel in German, is grown locally and eaten here during these few months. There is a whole culture which has grown up around it, something nearly harmless which really has a quaint aspect to it and which hurts hardly anybody. That can't be said of many things nowadays.
It reminds me of the culture surrounding the cultivation of pipeweed in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Then too, another similarity strikes my mind. Here in the Dahlem district of Berlin there is a huge labyrinth of a museum, really a number of museums all knitted together in one sprawling complex, the "Dahlem Museums". You have to go through Asia, India and then through the Gold Chamber, down half a flight and through Africa, up three or is it four more flights, way up till you're under the roof and you come to a small gallery, the half to the one side holding the Musical Instruments collection, the other side containing a really delightful collection of Japanese Folk Arts.
These are little figures, games, miscellaneous objects each belonging to one specific locality in Japan, each relating to a very local custom, be it a festival or anniversary or whatever. Each is beautiful in its own way, completely strange and unintelligible to outsiders. Granted, these seem to be very localized customs, whereas the Spargel culture does seem to be more or less nationwide in Germany; I do, however, get the same feeling of quaintness out of both, and the fact that each represents a rather minor part of the national culture as a whole but one which people do look forward to.
It starts, for most of us here in town it starts around the middle of April, when we begin looking for these little stands to appear on less-cluttered street corners, advertising Beelitzer Spargel for some ridiculously high price per kilo. €15, €16, €18! And some people will pay it, at the beginning of the season that is. Pretty soon the price becomes much more reasonable, eventually leveling off at around €5 per kilo. Oh, and the Beelitz part? Why, that's the town south of Berlin whose name is synonymous with the growing of asparagus in these parts. For miles around there you can find large and small asparagus fields. So Beelitzer Spargel tells us that we're getting the genuine article there, not having some imported goods foisted off on us.
Exactly when those stands begin popping up depends mostly on how the weather has been in the few months before, whether the outgoing winter has already released its grip or if there's still been snow recently. This year the latter part of the winter was rather severe so the season was a bit late in getting started. I was out birding on Easter Sunday and saw maybe one stand; that was April 14 this year. But I did see a number of those characteristic fields.
The Germans love white asparagus, the spears cut just as the tips begin to break the sandy soil. When the head has come through and turned violet and then green by sunlight, it is considered a somewhat inferior product, although as far as I know green asparagus is the standard type available in the States, imported year-round from Peru as I have read. To produce white asparagus, the plants are cultivated in long ridges, their tops perfectly flat, their sides beveled inwards. The whole ridge is then covered in dark or light plastic, depending on the weather as I understand - the dark side absorbs heat, the light side reflects it. The plastic is neatly tucked into the base of the ridge. Specially built machines do all these various steps as they move down the rows. In home gardens of course the ridges are not so perfectly formed: they are lower and are much more uneven.
Go down to the Beelitz area any day you like from mid-April to the end of May, especially in the early morning, and you will see people at work in these Spargel fields. Most of the workers come over from Poland for the day to help in the harvest. The commercial outfits prepare things for them, depositing little collections of mineral water bottles at each row, and especially leaving a kind of Spargel wheelbarrow there too. This is a little one-wheeled affair with a plastic box in the middle to receive the cut stalks, the whole just big enough to roll between the asparagus ridges, propelled by a single handle. The harvesters use a kind of long screwdriver, the tip bent over to one side, flattened and sharpened to cut the spears. They find where one is just deforming the soil surface, stick the tool down into the ground to cut it off at the base. It takes quite a bit of skill to do it without mangling the stalk, I'm told.
Down around Beelitz and the surrounding villages - Zauchwitz, Schlunkendorf and so on, you will find many stands to buy your Spargel and nearly as many places to eat it. Our favorite little place is just east of Beelitz itself, a couple kilometers out, on the left side of the road where a dirt road leads between the asparagus fields. There's a little stand at the side of the field where the stalks are as fresh as they come. You may even have to wait a bit for the next batch to come in off the fields - off in the distance you can see the workers gathering it. We usually buy ours there and cook it at home, but all around are big commercial outfits which run eating establishments during the season. To one side you can enter a building and buy the goods too, while sometimes you can even watch a production line to see how the spears are processed mostly by machine. There are various steps they go through in a production line, being washed, peeled, sorted and finally collected in plastic tubs.
Oh and while you're in the area you can visit one of Germany's three Asparagus museums, directly in Schlunkendorf. It's a small building, once a single-family house it seems, with information on history and cultivation, complete with historical Spargel utensils. It's a fun little stop, and doesn't take itself too seriously - you can visit while you're waiting for the next load of the product to be delivered from the fields.
And of course there are innumerable ways to prepare the asparagus: in soup, baked, in a casserole, with mushrooms, wrapped in prosciutto ham, and on and on. I recently tasted a spoonful of asparagus ice cream, which I'm not sure I would recommend. I think I like it best when my wife prepares it in the simplest way, very traditionally. It is boiled or steamed, the spears presented on a plate with some chilled slices of boiled ham and some boiled potatoes. Hollandaise sauce over the asparagus completes the dish, or simply a little melted butter. That way you really can appreciate the delicate flavor of the tender vegetable itself without anything to distract from it.
Oh, lovely Spargelzeit, something to look forward to as winter draws to a close. In these times when supermarkets offer produce from halfway around the world, in and out of season all year round, it's pleasant and heartening to participate in this much more local custom, buying and consuming local products, and still having to experience that anticipation as the season draws near.
Yes, as the title up there says, it's the Asparagus Season. Asparagus, Spargel in German, is grown locally and eaten here during these few months. There is a whole culture which has grown up around it, something nearly harmless which really has a quaint aspect to it and which hurts hardly anybody. That can't be said of many things nowadays.
It reminds me of the culture surrounding the cultivation of pipeweed in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Then too, another similarity strikes my mind. Here in the Dahlem district of Berlin there is a huge labyrinth of a museum, really a number of museums all knitted together in one sprawling complex, the "Dahlem Museums". You have to go through Asia, India and then through the Gold Chamber, down half a flight and through Africa, up three or is it four more flights, way up till you're under the roof and you come to a small gallery, the half to the one side holding the Musical Instruments collection, the other side containing a really delightful collection of Japanese Folk Arts.
These are little figures, games, miscellaneous objects each belonging to one specific locality in Japan, each relating to a very local custom, be it a festival or anniversary or whatever. Each is beautiful in its own way, completely strange and unintelligible to outsiders. Granted, these seem to be very localized customs, whereas the Spargel culture does seem to be more or less nationwide in Germany; I do, however, get the same feeling of quaintness out of both, and the fact that each represents a rather minor part of the national culture as a whole but one which people do look forward to.
It starts, for most of us here in town it starts around the middle of April, when we begin looking for these little stands to appear on less-cluttered street corners, advertising Beelitzer Spargel for some ridiculously high price per kilo. €15, €16, €18! And some people will pay it, at the beginning of the season that is. Pretty soon the price becomes much more reasonable, eventually leveling off at around €5 per kilo. Oh, and the Beelitz part? Why, that's the town south of Berlin whose name is synonymous with the growing of asparagus in these parts. For miles around there you can find large and small asparagus fields. So Beelitzer Spargel tells us that we're getting the genuine article there, not having some imported goods foisted off on us.
Exactly when those stands begin popping up depends mostly on how the weather has been in the few months before, whether the outgoing winter has already released its grip or if there's still been snow recently. This year the latter part of the winter was rather severe so the season was a bit late in getting started. I was out birding on Easter Sunday and saw maybe one stand; that was April 14 this year. But I did see a number of those characteristic fields.
The Germans love white asparagus, the spears cut just as the tips begin to break the sandy soil. When the head has come through and turned violet and then green by sunlight, it is considered a somewhat inferior product, although as far as I know green asparagus is the standard type available in the States, imported year-round from Peru as I have read. To produce white asparagus, the plants are cultivated in long ridges, their tops perfectly flat, their sides beveled inwards. The whole ridge is then covered in dark or light plastic, depending on the weather as I understand - the dark side absorbs heat, the light side reflects it. The plastic is neatly tucked into the base of the ridge. Specially built machines do all these various steps as they move down the rows. In home gardens of course the ridges are not so perfectly formed: they are lower and are much more uneven.
Go down to the Beelitz area any day you like from mid-April to the end of May, especially in the early morning, and you will see people at work in these Spargel fields. Most of the workers come over from Poland for the day to help in the harvest. The commercial outfits prepare things for them, depositing little collections of mineral water bottles at each row, and especially leaving a kind of Spargel wheelbarrow there too. This is a little one-wheeled affair with a plastic box in the middle to receive the cut stalks, the whole just big enough to roll between the asparagus ridges, propelled by a single handle. The harvesters use a kind of long screwdriver, the tip bent over to one side, flattened and sharpened to cut the spears. They find where one is just deforming the soil surface, stick the tool down into the ground to cut it off at the base. It takes quite a bit of skill to do it without mangling the stalk, I'm told.
Down around Beelitz and the surrounding villages - Zauchwitz, Schlunkendorf and so on, you will find many stands to buy your Spargel and nearly as many places to eat it. Our favorite little place is just east of Beelitz itself, a couple kilometers out, on the left side of the road where a dirt road leads between the asparagus fields. There's a little stand at the side of the field where the stalks are as fresh as they come. You may even have to wait a bit for the next batch to come in off the fields - off in the distance you can see the workers gathering it. We usually buy ours there and cook it at home, but all around are big commercial outfits which run eating establishments during the season. To one side you can enter a building and buy the goods too, while sometimes you can even watch a production line to see how the spears are processed mostly by machine. There are various steps they go through in a production line, being washed, peeled, sorted and finally collected in plastic tubs.
Oh and while you're in the area you can visit one of Germany's three Asparagus museums, directly in Schlunkendorf. It's a small building, once a single-family house it seems, with information on history and cultivation, complete with historical Spargel utensils. It's a fun little stop, and doesn't take itself too seriously - you can visit while you're waiting for the next load of the product to be delivered from the fields.
And of course there are innumerable ways to prepare the asparagus: in soup, baked, in a casserole, with mushrooms, wrapped in prosciutto ham, and on and on. I recently tasted a spoonful of asparagus ice cream, which I'm not sure I would recommend. I think I like it best when my wife prepares it in the simplest way, very traditionally. It is boiled or steamed, the spears presented on a plate with some chilled slices of boiled ham and some boiled potatoes. Hollandaise sauce over the asparagus completes the dish, or simply a little melted butter. That way you really can appreciate the delicate flavor of the tender vegetable itself without anything to distract from it.
Oh, lovely Spargelzeit, something to look forward to as winter draws to a close. In these times when supermarkets offer produce from halfway around the world, in and out of season all year round, it's pleasant and heartening to participate in this much more local custom, buying and consuming local products, and still having to experience that anticipation as the season draws near.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
