welcoming the spring

A childhood spent in the tropics meant that the yearly changing of seasons completely passed me by. I only ever read about the glory of spring in bloom and the vibrancy of autumn as trees changed their colours. Snow was something so far removed from my reality that it might as well have been an alien life form. When I did experience snow for the first time as a teenager it was with a healthy amount of fear and mistrust. Knowing that seasons change is not quite the same as experiencing how they change, what those changes mean, and how it affects everything around us. I didn’t really understand any of it until I moved to England when I was sixteen. Even then, I didn’t really get it. Having never encountered the phenomenon of daylight savings time, I turned up an hour late for my biology class at school when the clocks turned forward. Unfortunately, my teacher didn’t believe a word I said about not knowing anything about changes in time and I was promptly given a demerit for the day.

The move to Europe inevitably meant exposure to a wider range of temperatures as well as unfamiliar vegetables and fruit. Not only that, but these fruits and vegetables would come and go as the seasons changed. The appearance of cherries, raspberries and blackberries meant that summer was well and truly underway. Pumpkins, brussel sprouts and red beets would turn up around autumn. Winter would be all about cabbages and turnips. And spring would bring just about everything else. Having now spent almost as many years of my life in Europe as in Asia, I’ve come to appreciate and love the changing of the seasons and what that means for what lands on my plate. Waiting in anticipation for the first strawberries to emerge, fat and bright. Or the squeaky, green and white newness of fennel bulbs.

Spring is definitely one of the seasons that is most longed for and awaited. After months of cabbages, the variety brought on by spring is definitely cause for a squeal or two. For me, spring in Germany has only ever truly arrived when fat, white asparagus bundles are piled up in stands on the side of the road, on supermarket shelves, and can be found everywhere on the menu. And when rhubarb is as cheap as chips, waving its long, pink stalks at passersby. Definitely a reason to celebrate. So that is exactly what we did this weekend. The German and I got into the car and drove down south to Bad Tölz, where he grew up. We set up camp at the house on the hill. Friends turned up. We sat out in the garden and soaked up the sun until it disappeared behind the mountains. We ate, we drank, we were merry, and welcomed the spring with open arms, mouths and bellies.

On the menu:

white asparagus with sauce hollandaise, potatoes, and ham

rhubarb compote, fresh strawberries, and lemon quark