National Geographic Traveler USA - 04.2019 - 05.2019

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countryside, often by bicycle—with a spectacularly flat landscape, it’s obvious why Münster is Germany’s cycling capital—they like to support local producers, and they want to know where their food comes from. Many farms now open a restaurant in the harvest season, serving white asparagus dishes in the sunshine, right where it’s grown. It’s a short walk from the marketplace to Altes Gasthaus Leve, a traditional German restaurant that’s been in the same family for three generations. Josef Horstmöller greets me at the end of the long, wooden bar, eyes twinkling, salt-and-pepper beard neatly groomed, and bow tie knotted meticulously beneath his chin. During the high season, he tells me, his restaurant serves up to 220 pounds of white asparagus a week. Some of Horstmöller’s customers have been eating at Leve for more than 50 years, and he and head chef Frank Lembeck, who’s emerged from the kitchen in his chef ’s whites, know them well. “Out of habit, their main meal is lunch, perhaps white asparagus served the classic way, with ham and potatoes,” Lembeck explains. “Or they might order chicken stew. In the

evening, they’ll have bread and soup. The younger evening crowd is open to a more creative menu, but we know what our regulars want.” I ask Lembeck if he’d put green asparagus on the menu. He shakes his head. As is the case at Hof Grothues-Potthoff, nothing here goes to waste. Peelings are used to make a delicate, creamy soup; broken spears are added to stews. And like Elmar Grothues, Horstmöller fosters strong local relationships; he’s been buying his asparagus from the same farm for more than 20 years. I sit down at a small wooden table, where waitress and student Paulina Brandt, dressed in a traditional black and white uniform, brings my plate of white asparagus with a smile. With a backdrop of wood-paneled walls and hand- painted tiles; a tall, flickering candle; and a glass of honey-colored Mosel Riesling, my lunch could be a Dutch Golden Age painting. The raft of white asparagus—straight and meticulously aligned— shares the plate with waxy, yellow new potatoes and a crumpled heap of wafer-thin, dark pink Westphalian ham (a regional delicacy made from acorn-fed, forest-dwelling pigs; their meat is dry-cured and cold- smoked over beechwood). This is the best of the best local produce, prepared and cooked very simply, and I suddenly feel terribly spoiled. Brandt puts down two stainless steel sauce boats next to my plate. One is filled with a bright yellow hollandaise so thick it wobbles, the other with a pool of glossy melted butter. I ask why she likes white asparagus, and she gives the same answer I keep receiving: “It’s around for such a very short time and has such a fine taste, plus it’s full of vitamins, so it’s really very healthy.” I drown my spears in butter. Over the course of my three days here, I try white asparagus several ways. There’s the soup, garnished with chives. I eat it grilled, served with poached quails’ eggs and dots of bright green moss mayonnaise. But it’s the potatoes and ham that I keep thinking about: It’s an old-fashioned dish, yet it doesn’t feel outdated. White asparagus, I’ve learned, represents what’s important to many people in Münsterland—a deep pride in their regional produce and respect for hard work, a love of quality ingredients prepared simply and without waste, and an appreciation for tradition. Isn’t it lucky, I think, that it tastes so good.

CHRISTIE DIETZ( @asausagehastwo) is a food and travel writer who has lived in Wiesbaden, Germany, since 2010.

WHERE TO STAY

H4 Hotel Münster This chain business hotel has bright modern rooms and is centrally located. Many of Münster’s main sights are easily reachable by foot. h-hotels.com

Hof Grothues-Potthoff This quiet boutique hotel offers stylish, comfortable rooms, a small sauna, and friendly staff. The terraced restaurant serves an excellent breakfast as well as the farm’s own white asparagus in season. hof-grothues-potthoff.de

WHERE TO EAT

Altes Gasthaus Leve Among the local favor- ites at this traditional German restaurant is a delicately flavored, silky cream-of-white-asparagus soup. gasthaus-leve.de

Hafenkäserei Down by Münster’s harbor, this organic dairy produces creatively flavored Gouda and red smear cheeses using four-generation-old processes. In the café, cheeses are served with beers from one of Münster’s craft breweries. hafenkaeserei.de

Seasonal farms Both Hof Lütke Laxen (luetke-laxen.de) and Spargelhof Hengemann (spargelhof-hengemann .de) open to serve meals during harvest season.

Travel Wise: Münsterland

THE QUEST

GERMANY

Altes Gasthaus Leve serves a classic dish of white asparagus.

NATGEOTRAVEL.COM

countryside, often by bicycle—with a spectacularly

flat landscape, it’s obvious why Münster is Germany’s

cycling capital—they like to support local producers,

and they want to know where their food comes from.

Many farms now open a restaurant in the harvest sea-

son, serving white asparagus dishes in the sunshine,

right where it’s grown.

It’s a short walk from the marketplace to Altes

Gasthaus Leve, a traditional German restaurant

that’s been in the same family for three generations.

Josef Horstmöller greets me at the end of the long,

wooden bar, eyes twinkling, salt-and-pepper beard

neatly groomed, and bow tie knotted meticulously

beneath his chin. During the high season, he tells

me, his restaurant serves up to 220 pounds of white

asparagus a week.

Some of Horstmöller’s customers have been eating

at Leve for more than 50 years, and he and head chef

Frank Lembeck, who’s emerged from the kitchen in

his chef ’s whites, know them well. “Out of habit, their

main meal is lunch, perhaps white asparagus served

the classic way, with ham and potatoes,” Lembeck

explains. “Or they might order chicken stew. In the

evening, they’ll have bread and soup. The younger evening crowd is open to a more creative menu, but we know what our regulars want.” I ask Lembeck if he’d put green asparagus on the menu. He shakes his head. As is the case at Hof Grothues-Potthoff, nothing here goes to waste. Peelings are used to make a delicate, creamy soup; broken spears are added to stews. And like Elmar Grothues, Horstmöller fosters strong local relationships; he’s been buying his asparagus from the same farm for more than 20 years. I sit down at a small wooden table, where waitress and student Paulina Brandt, dressed in a traditional black and white uniform, brings my plate of white asparagus with a smile. With a backdrop of wood-paneled walls and hand- painted tiles; a tall, flickering candle; and a glass of honey-colored Mosel Riesling, my lunch could be a Dutch Golden Age painting. The raft of white asparagus—straight and meticulously aligned— shares the plate with waxy, yellow new potatoes and a crumpled heap of wafer-thin, dark pink Westphalian ham (a regional delicacy made from acorn-fed, forest-dwelling pigs; their meat is dry-cured and cold- smoked over beechwood). This is the best of the best local produce, prepared and cooked very simply, and I suddenly feel terribly spoiled. Brandt puts down two stainless steel sauce boats next to my plate. One is filled with a bright yellow hollandaise so thick it wobbles, the other with a pool of glossy melted butter. I ask why she likes white asparagus, and she gives the same answer I keep receiving: “It’s around for such a very short time and has such a fine taste, plus it’s full of vitamins, so it’s really very healthy.” I drown my spears in butter. Over the course of my three days here, I try white asparagus several ways. There’s the soup, garnished with chives. I eat it grilled, served with poached quails’ eggs and dots of bright green moss mayonnaise. But it’s the potatoes and ham that I keep thinking about: It’s an old-fashioned dish, yet it doesn’t feel outdated. White asparagus, I’ve learned, represents what’s important to many people in Münsterland—a deep pride in their regional produce and respect for hard work, a love of quality ingredients prepared simply and without waste, and an appreciation for tradition. Isn’t it lucky, I think, that it tastes so good.