The picturesque Vale of Evesham in Gloucestershire, England, is famous for its asparagus crop

By Graham Worrall

Shortly after we had lunch in the public house in Bardsey, England, a strange thing happened. My urine looked green and then I noticed it had a smell rather like rotten eggs.

I was a sufferer of "asparagus urine." The diagnosis was confirmed by one of my companions, a knowledgeable emergency physician.

I've since discovered that about half the population finds their urine smells funny as early as one hour after eating asparagus. Apparently, some experts think half of us carry a gene that enables us to metabolize the amino acids in asparagus to six different sulphur-containing mercaptans, which are then excreted in the urine and produce the characteristic smell. Other experts feel that we all produce the mercaptans, but only half the population carry a gene, the expression of which enables them to smell the compounds formed by the digestion of asparagus. A group consult in the pub washroom found that all my friends and I could smell the skunky flavour, so I'm in the former camp.

Although eating asparagus may produce smelly urine, the vegetable is delicious, and contains vitamins C, B1, folic acid and B6, as well as lots of fibre(my research team reports it has no unique effect of the fecal smell).

Appropriately enough, the incident took place in an old pub call The Round of Gras in the Vale of Evesham in Gloucestershire. We had arranged to take our spring vacation there, in the area where clay bedrock and moist conditions produce a famous quality asparagus crop. Every year, from mid-April until mid-May, asparagus aficionados flock to the area, the first place in England where fresh asparagus appears, and where it can be bought(relatively cheaply, this is England, after all)at the farm or at roadside market stalls, and where every pub and restaurant features daily "Asparagus Specials."

Some restaurateurs fancy up the asparagus with ham, salmon or cheese, but the purists will insist upon a heaping plate of asparagus, served only with butter, new potatoes and brown bread. You'll get between half and three-quarters of a pound of asparagus per serving, depending on the restaurant. We found that local beer was a better accompaniment than white wine.

People either love or hate the taste of asparagus. Known to have been eaten for at least 2,500 years, it at one time grew wild in England, and in the fields around medieval London it was called "sparrow grass" as the birds would feed on it. Although the Vale of Evesham, with its heavy moist clay soil and its mild micro-climate, had long been recognized as prime territory for asparagus growing, it was not until 1852, when the Great West Railway built a line through the valley of the River Avon, enabling rapid transport of perishable fruit and vegetables, that mass commercial cultivation of asparagus began. Asparagus fortunes were made.

Not only is asparagus a finicky plant to grow, but it takes a good three years for the perennial plant to reach its prime, so producers have to be patient. There is a very narrow window—barely a month—when the harvest is at its best, before the crop becomes too woody. Traditionally, the asparagus was harvested by hand, using a special knife which looks like a cross between a large screwdriver and the fork we use at home to root out dandelions.

While in Evesham, I unsuccessfully searched all the local hardware stores for such a tool, with the teenaged clerks looking at me as if I were nuts. Finally, an old timer in a pub told me that the only place to find such a tool now was at the local blacksmith.

I went to F. Caswell & Son, Shoeing and General Ironwork, a 96-year-old business, where the grandson of the founder is still in business. Mr. Caswell, taking time out from shoeing a horse(the horse didn't seem to object that its owner was interested in a visitor from Canada), and showed me how he hand-forged the asparagus knives. They are about 46 cm long, with the iron blade sloped at 45 degrees to the long axis, and have several sharpened notches to catch and cut the stalk of the asparagus plant. Mr. Caswell offered to sell me a knife, but I declined, thinking I would have problems getting the lethal-looking tool through security at Heathrow Airport on my way home.

These days, I was told, the asparagus is no longer harvested by hand, nor is asparagus planted in the traditional elevated beds. Asparagus now grows flat fields, and a drum-like machine(invented in Tasmania, of all places)harvests the plants automatically. The machine follows the old principle of cutting the stalk at an angle of 45 degrees to the horizontal and about 5 cm below the surface of the soil, so that the tender white earth-blanched part of the stalk(relished by connoisseurs)is harvested, as well as the green above-ground stalk

Traditionally, once the asparagus stalks were harvested, they were tied in bundles of 20 or 30 stalks. Then, six bundles of 20, or four bundles of 30, were tied with a green willow twig to make up a "long hundred" of stalks(using much the same generous thinking that gave 13 loaves in a baker's dozen). When members of the Royal Family visit the City of Evesham, they are traditionally presented with a ceremonial Round of Gras by the Lord Mayor. An ex-mayor told me the sniffer dogs of the royal security team obviously carried the gene to detect mercaptans!

There are many other things to do in and around Evesham in the spring, apart from gulping asparagus and quaffing ale. The small city, which sits in a loop of the River Avon, a dozen miles upstream from Stratford(where you can catch performances of Shakespeare's plays all year round), has had an abbey church since 709 AD, when Ecgwine, 3rd Bishop of Worcester, built one to commemorate a vision of the Blessed Virgin Mary seen there by a Eof, a local swineherd. The area produces some of the finest soft fruit in England, and in spring the town and vale(valley)are full of blossom. Ancient hostelries and stately homes abound.

We had another fine asparagus meal at The Child & Eagle pub, in Stow-on-the-Wold, a picturesque wool market town in the Cotswold Hills above Evesham. Parts of the limestone building date back to 947 AD, and the inn was in operation when the last battle of the English Civil War took place in the town in 1646. The Roundheads slaughtered so may Royalists in the town square that ducks were able to bathe in the flowing blood. Hence the name of street to the inn was changed to Duck Bath Street, which has been since corrupted to Digbeth Street. This sanguinary tale did not put us off our asparagus; one of our party even ordered black pudding! For even better puddings, we could have attended another local pub, which every second Friday night hosts the Pudding Club. Patrons can sample a dozen or more of the sweet luscious desserts the English are famous for.

The Vale of Evesham lies at the foot of the Cotswolds, one of the most beautiful and gently hilly areas of England. This is perfect walking country, through lush countryside with wonderful views. The hills are dotted with small villages, most very well-preserved and boasting pubs and bed-and-breakfast establishments, mostly built of the local glowing reddish limestone. You can have an extensive walking holiday on dozens of well-marked trails, and never eat or sleep at the same place twice—although I strongly urge the springtime visitor to repeat the asparagus urine experience often!

Graham Worrall is a family physician in Whitbourne, Nfld.