Lord of the Flies, Revisited

Well I guess this has to be taken care of at long last.

Yeh, last year I wrote about the mysterious mini "lampshade flies" which congregate at the bottom of our hanging China balloon lamp in the bedroom during the warmer months.

A picture was painted of a benign, quirky little species which was just a slightly interesting little detail of summer.  Naturally I did wonder what species they really were, but took little action to clear up the question.  I do love puzzles in any case, and the air of mystery surrounding them was undoubtedly attractive.

Well, a couple days after that initial post appeared online, a very sharp student friend of mine, Rita by name, actually did clear up the mystery.  Good researcher that she is, she poked around here and there and came up with a number of sites describing the little guys.  Even their lampshade habit was touched on.

It is the Little House Fly or Lesser House Fly, (Fannia canicularis). Here and there are a couple typical sites treating them. After thanking my student, I learned that they were far from the harmless little guys I'd imagined.

My bubble had burst.  I had pictured innocuous, intriguing little guys doing their jerky dance around the bottom of the balloon lampshade.  OK, I figured they had to eat, and so on, but I only saw them around that one spot. Maybe they ate those pesky dust mites we always hear about, inhabiting our carpets, thought I.

Come to find out they light on excrement outside!  Shit, for goodness' sake!  That and rotting vegetable matter seem to be their preferred habitats. They feed and lay their eggs there.
Potentially carriers of disease germs, they seemed much less benign after I had read up on them.

Fortunately they don't explore houses further, following cooking smells to the kitchen.  No, they have that in their favor, the fact they just congregate in the centers of rooms, in our case under the lampshade. I do have yet to read any entomologist's explanation of just why they do that, and the question I posed in my first blog on the subject: what equivalent behavior do they do out in the field? I have read that it's mostly males you will find marking time under central hanging lamps. They also do get into miniature dogfights, buzzing around each other so lightning-fast you can't tell who is who.  So maybe these special areas are like "leks" to them, those avian meeting grounds where Prairie Chickens, Greater- or Lesser-, meet to strut their stuff in North America. In Europe, Black Grouse do it too, as I read. But that's rather fanciful, as there are always female birds around the leks coyly watching the goings-on, whereas here they do seem to be mostly males.  It was the birder in me, was all.

To wrap up here, I was going to rant on the fact of me being disappointed about their being not the benign, harmless creatures of my imagination. To shout to the heavens "Woe!  Woe, my image of an idyllic world has been shattered!", but what the heck?  I know what nature is, tooth and claw.  And shit.  And we usually think of flies in our anthropocentric way as being annoying, disgusting, disease-ridden little things.  I have learned a little bit about this species, and they never have been annoying after all. I'm sure too there are plenty of unanswered questions about their behavior.  So thank you, Rita for introducing me to the Little House Fly (more poetic than Lesser House Fly I think), a species I don't mind
living around me, even though I probably won't be inviting it to light on my finger.

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.