Why I love Spargel

A plate of summer Spargel in all its glory.

Spargel. I love Spargel. Almost every restaurant I’ve dined at in Berlin has had Spargel—asparagus—on the menu. It comes spritzed with lemon butter or dripping in Hollandaise or in a cream of Spargel soup—it’s all good. And I can’t get enough of it.

If I am very fortunate, the restaurant where I’m dining has weisser Spargel—white asparagus. And it is so good that on two occasions I’ve had a plate of Spargel and a glass or two of Reisling and nothing else (a Pinot Grigio would probably be a better match, but come on—I’m in Germany).

And it’s also fun to order. Last night, at a very tony restaurant in Mitte, I sat down, refused the menu, and said, “Ich möchte die Spargelcrèmesuppe, bitte.”

It made me feel happy saying it—Spargelcrèmesuppe. And it was the best bowl of cream of asparagus soup I’ve ever had.