Eating White Asparagus (Spargel) in Berlin
In 2017, Elena and I joined Jay and Niki and we went to Poland and Berlin to visit my dead (and living) relatives. My mom’s father’s family came from a region that is now Poland. The little town remains but the people are gone. We just ate as many pirogi as possible and visited some very pretty countryside. My mother’s mother’s family come from outside of Berlin and many of them still remain. We spent the day with one-a gentleman who helped me find that branch of my family. I do know this is a food blog but as a genealogist, I’m adding this story, too. I couldn’t find my Loging family and when I finally learned that the German spelling was Laging and that there were only 100 left in Germany, I decided (in the day before computers) to hand write 33 aerograms and sent them to the 33 of the most likely candidates based on names and location. Gerhardt Ehrens wrote back and sent the story of my relative. He knew who Ferdinand Laging was because Ferdinand had sent money that kept the family in Germany alive. He sent copies of the letters that went back and forth and a picture of the family house. I had really wanted to visit with him and this was our chance.
So, we went to visit. Just in time for white spargel time. White spragel is white asparagus time. I have very fond memories of eating spargel in Germany when I was 16 and great memories of these huge tents they put up in Germany at certain times of the year. A certain type of food would be the specialty as it came into season: sweet onions, new wine, mushrooms, etc. We got to Berlin in time for spargel. We do (Jay and I) have some PTSD about asparagus. For years we grew the best asparagus in our garden and my mom would cook it until it was mush. At some point she finally learned to not overcook it but the PTSD remains. In Germany, I think we had a bit of a PTSD flashback. We ate spargel in every possible configuration: soup, stir-fry, with schnitzel. The weirdest was sweetened in a crepe. Hmm. I really enjoyed our spargel adventure but I think Jay thought less cooking would have been a great idea.
I think the most troubling part of our spargel experience, was a difficult experience had by Elena. We walked into this huge tent full of 300-400 people, all of whom were German from the area of my relatives-most likely relatives, too. All of them were white, white, white as only a northern German or Scandinavian person can be. We were stared at and I think because we were not from there, but Elena believed (and maybe so) because she was the only person of color in the tent. It was a tough moment for her and for us all-to feel alienated from your own people. Race, ethnicity, perceived ethnicity and belonging are complicated. She is my daughter and the people of the spargle tent are my people so they are her people, too. She got through it and understands that regardless of how she looks, she has spargel eating in her blood!
