Move over, Spain. The latest culinary trail leads to Germany - and, as William Grimes discovers, it's not your Mother's Blutwurst anymore.

(...) Anyone intrigued by the new German cuisine makes a reservation in Munich at Restaurant Ederer. Karl Ederer, at 52 a senior statesman of the movement, has been emphasizing seasonal cooking and locally sourced ingredients for years. In the early 1980s at the Gasthaus Glockenbach, he single-handedly resuscitated Bavarian cuisine by giving it a new German slant; since 2001 he's cooked at his namesake restaurant, located on the mezzanine of a handsome historic building in the city center.

Ederer's center of gravity has shifted. Sometimes the accent is distincly German (Simmental beef loin with artichokes and sweet corn), but as often as not Ederer steers an international course in dishes like zucchini blossoms stuffed with polenta, mushrooms, grilled eggplant and mint. What has not changed is his emphasis on the freshest ingredients and his partnerships with artisanal producers.

Dining at Ederer is a reminder that Germans, even at top-tier restaurants, do not take food nearly as seriously as their French neighbors. Music commands reverence but food is meant to be enjoyed, so there's none of the studied formality that prevails in so many French restaurants. On one wall of Restaurant Ederer hung an enormous portrait of the actor Harald Juhnke, executed in brightly colored plastic shopping bags, like some sort of industrial-age quilt. For sheer absurdity, it was matched only by the mysterious suit of armor perched atop a cupboard near the kitchen. Some of the food is funny, too. Round envelopes of celery root, stuffed with ricotta cheese and topped with a yellow dab of spicy onion-purslane compote, come to the table three to a plate, looking for all the world like serving of fried eggs. (...)

The New York Times Style Magazin, drift away, Travel Winter 2007, S. 160 ff.