The Dirt on Nicky

Eine gärtner geht nach Deutschland

Well-intentioned gardeners around here have been excited to get busy in their gardens – yippee! yippee! – weather be damned. I instead went to Germany. I have family in Leipzig which is where Bach played organ in church on Sundays, but not lately.

Leipzig’s old architecture inspires awe, and Dresden is even grander and more majestic, but we ventured east from there toward the Czech Republic for the weekend. By chance, we discovered Stadt Wehlen, a small town on the Elbe River. Sunday (where’s Bach) was a perfect day for our frülingselbsandsteingebirgewanderung. We climbed steep stairs to find a well-worn path between moss-covered creased rock walls four stories high. It took a glorious hour or so, but that’s how we got to the top of the mountain.

Up there were vast grassy pastures for miles with patches of nettles sprouting along roadsides. Back in Leipzig – remarkable for its forests within city limits – nettles were also sprouting in the woods and parks. Locals seem to recognize the nutritional value of nettles. In Dresden, we visited a restaurant called Brennessel (Burning Nettles) and I dined on pasta made with wild nettles… my favorite!… nettle noodles!

However, the dominant springtime feature in the vast forested areas of Leipzig is the forest floor carpeted by ramps, or bärlauch, an onion family member with potent edible leaves. They rise out of winter doldrums to cover the forest floor side to side. We gently dehydrated a modest harvest in the oven so we could crumble them up on soups, pasta and whatever. They add a sweet oniony flavor, and you can use them to flavor butter.

On my final walk through the woods, ramps were beginning to send up edible buds and there were even a few white flowers which, I was told, will soon become the dominant color of the forest floor for a time.

Ramps are common throughout the Appalachian Mountains with several communities hosting ramp festivals. The one in Huntington, West Virginia, is called the Stink Fest. Indigenous folks in eastern Illinois who spoke the Miami-Illinois language called the plant “shikaakwa” which French Europeans pronounced “chicagou,” and, yes indeed, that is the origin of the name for the windy city made famous by Ernie Banks and Carl Sandburg. Chicago was named for an allium.

For 200 years in Germany, there has been a movement to provide garden space in municipalities for those who want it. Kleingärtens are large areas divided into small allotments so individuals can get their hands dirty. Since many families in Leipzig live in apartments, they have no yard or space for gardening. So, a person rents an allotment, and almost all of them have at least a shed if not a fashionable small hut and sitting area. You could spend the weekend there. In the kleingärtens I visited it was still too early for most vegetables, but not for flowers.

Some municipalities pass ordinances mandating space for kleingärtens be included in development plans just like parks and other green spaces, and there is a Union of German Allotment Holders which, together with federal legislation, protects allotment holders from unwarranted termination of their leases and safeguards acceptable allotment prices. Making garden space available and affordable for citizens is an important part of the zeitgeist.

By one count, there are almost 900 kleingärtens in Germany, each with many allotments. I visited one large enough to get lost in. It felt like a maze but also a neighborhood.

Also interesting for a gardener was seeing the produce in markets and grocery stores. Besides the regulars we have here, I found wurzelpetersilie on sale for €4.40/kg. My favorite recipe is simply to slice the roots thinly, steam them for five minutes or so, and anoint them with olive oil or barläuch butter.

Germany is a wonderful memory for now, and the matter at hand is sie an die Arbeit im Gärten Machen.