It means “Asparagus Week” in German. This, together with the Christmas Market and to a simultaneously more subtle and obvious extent, the party instinct (including Oktoberfest), must be one of those German or at least Bavarian things that after a while, you just stop questioning and learn to accept. Late April is the time for spargel and a return to the beer gardens we’ve missed all winter. It’s part of the annual ritual around here.
So, here’s the Spargelwoche menu for the cafeteria at work. Chickenbreast with asparagus and lime-Hollandaise sauce. Catfish with asparagus and herbal Hollandaise sauce. Grilled veal cutlet with asparagus and tomato-Hollandaise sauce. For a little change of pace today there were pork steaks with asparagus and a pepper-butter sauce. And for those of us who feel Vatican II* is just too irreverent, fresh filet of salmon with asparagus — and a return to the Hollandaise upon which we’d become chemically dependent. Well, maybe I’ve managed to avoid getting hooked on the H — I was on a trip to another plant on Wednesday (they were having *Wildwoche!* with rabbits and supposedly wild chicken and other game), and today I scarfed up some left-overs from a great dinner Sarah made last night. So there will still be a little blood in my veins instead of a mixture of butter and lemon juice emulsified with egg yolks by the time we depart for France early next week. Which is good, because I’ll need it.
Do you think the inherent risks associated with all that butter are evened out by an annual drop in UTI rates?