One of my recent charity shop buys was ‘Bavarian Cooking’ which caught my eye after a recent trip to Vienna. I know, Vienna is not in Bavaria but there is a strong, sausagey link between the two. I had hoped to find recipes for dishes that had intrigued me on holiday. I found recipes and a lot more. I am now an expert on the Bavarian countryside, people and cuisine, in just 170 pages and for only £3.99.
Written in 1997, the book is designed for English speaking tourists who have sampled the delights of Bavaria and want take a slice of it home. The language and phrasing used by the author, Olli Leeb, is endearing in its mistranslations; “effervescent mineral water” and “free-running” chickens were particular favourites.
After several pages on the history, populace and topology of Bavaria, including a fold out map of the area replete with illustrations of women in dirndls and miniature local delicacies, we have learnt a lot. Did you know that Bavaria is twice the size of Switzerland, two thirds of Bavarians live in the countryside and that the traditional cooking stove was introduced by an American named Benjamin Thompson in the late C18th? He also introduced the potato, rather late you may say but they’re making good use of it now; the Germanics do the best potato salad without a doubt. Apparently every third brewery in the world is in Bavaria, the first of which was opened in 1040AD, so they know their stuff. According to the experts beer should be drunk at 45F, too warm and it will make you tired. Yes, it’s the temperature of the beer not the six pints that make you want to pass out.
They are also very keen on their food. Good, staple ingredients are the basis for most recipes and the heart of the tradition definitely lies in getting the basics right rather than messing around with superfluous frills. Seven pages of soup recipes include the excellently named Egg Drop Soup, Cheese Diamond Soup and Swabian Crumble Soup (ingredients broth, flour, one egg and one eggshell of water - no frills attached). There are sadly no extravagant pictures but each new section is decorated with an appropriate illustration. The fish chapter has a drawing of a small, rotund child riding a large fish, fishing rod in hand, and the meat section is littered with images of cute, fluffy lambs and goats, juicy and ready for the chop.
As you can imagine the meat section takes up the vast majority of the book, these people are real meat enthusiasts. No part of a calf is left uncooked including knuckle, lungs, heart and brains. But it wasn’t any of these recipes that made me feel slightly ill. There’s usually one that makes me want to retch, this time Roast Meat Jelly did it for me. Pretty inoffensive in name but wait...thin slices of cooked meat are decorated with boiled egg and gherkin “fans” and then covered in meat jelly. I was once presented with something akin to this at a picnic and the textural combination of egg and jelly can only be described as wrong and probably invented by the devil himself. Thank God aspic has gone out of fashion.
The recipe for Roast Goose brings together everything that is great about this book. Pared down recipes but with incredible detail in the preparation, none of which feel pompous or unnecessary. Ingredients; one goose, salt and pepper (mixed). Instructions; soak goose for half a day in cold water. If there are any feathers left on the bird afterwards one must wet a small mound of salt with methylated spirits, light it and singe them off (this sounds both dangerous and incredible, or incredibly dangerous). Rub the goose with s&p, then cover with a cloth and “place it in the cold oven for a night’s sleep”. Cook in a 400F oven, in an inch of boiling water, breast up until browned and then turn over. Prick goose under the legs to allow fat to drain and then skim off and keep. Baste frequently but if adding water “always add it hot and never pour it over the goose!” An unexplained instruction but I will never do this again, I promise. Cook for between 2.5 and 3 hours; it should be possible to move the legs about lightly when done. Towards the end increase the temp to 470F and brush the goose with ice cold, salted water to crisp the skin. Leave to stand and then carve. Serve with raw potato dumplings, celery root and lamb’s lettuce for a truly Old Bavarian experience.
Despite being virtually carnivorous the salad and veg section is just as interesting. The secret to the famous potato salad starts with steaming, and not boiling, potatoes in their jackets, and then peeling whilst still hot. Finely chopped onion and a vinegar and salt mixture are mixed with the sliced potatoes and then left to draw for an hour or more. Only then is the oil added, along with pepper and chives, and of course, it is served warm. Precision in preparing vegetables for salads is military; cucumber are served immediately as, if left to stand, they are hard to digest, harder veg are left to stand for hours and the tomato just 10 minutes.
I could go on for pages with recipes for Sawdust Potatoes, Nuns’ Buns and Rainworms but if you want to delve further into the delights of Bavarian cooking you will have to buy the book. What is above all charming about “Bavarian Cooking” is the great amount of respect that is attributed to each individual ingredient. One gets a sense of real understanding of how food works and how to get the most out of it without having to drown raw ingredients in tonnes of extras.
Semmelknodel (Bread Dumplings)
This is a personal preference as opposed to raw potato dumplings, and easier to make.
10 stale buns/1lb stale bread
2 cups boiling milk
1 large onion, finely chopped
1oz butter
3tbs parsley, finely chopped
1 lemon, unwaxed
1/2tsp salt
3 eggs
Use plain buns without caraway or poppy seeds. Cut the buns or bread into very thin small slices. In a bowl, pour the boiling milk over the bread, mix, and let stand for at least 1 hour. Saute the onion in the butter until glassy, add the parsley and the finely chopped rind of the lemon, and add the mixture to the bread. Season with salt, add the eggs, and mix well. Wetting your hands, form a "trial" dumpling of approx. 2 1/2 in. diameter. In a large pot bring plenty of salted water to a boil, and try cooking the dumpling in it. If it stays intact and loses none of its substance, add the remaining dumplings. (Should the "trial" dumpling be unsatisfactory, add some flour to the dough.) Bring the water to the boil again; when the dumplings start swimming on top of the water, reduce the heat and let the dumplings simmer gently for 20 minutes, with the pot only half covered. Remove them with a slotted spoon and lightly shake off the water.
*These are particularly delicious if you slice them length ways, into about 3 or 4 slices, when cooked and fry them until they are golden brown. It gives them a bit more flavour and a little crunch.
