Schnitzel, Sauerkraut, and Spätzle. Get cosy as Millie Jackson and her grandma dive in to the dishes that keep a nation feeling gemütlich.
“Nanny, what’s the best German comfort food,” I ask. She pauses for a moment.
“Schnitzel mit Kartoffelsalat – that’s very Schwäbisch.”
My grandmother is from a town called Plochingen, in south Germany. It’s part of a region called Swabia, which has its own traditions, food, and a strong dialect equivalent to one of Yorkshire or Glasgow in the UK.
All my life, I’ve learnt about my heritage from Nanny, and it’s because of her that I’ve learnt about traditional dishes from her homeland and developed a keen appreciation for many German dishes.
While Schnitzel, thin fried meat, is typically made using pork or veal in Germany, my family prefers turkey. It’s cheaper and full of protein. Simply locate the nearest hammer and bash the meat repeatedly, until it’s nice and thin. Coat in flour, then egg, then breadcrumbs (use Panko if you’re feeling particularly fancy, it adds a delicious texture and flavour). Then fry until golden brown.
To make the salad – the Kartoffelsalat – boil new potatoes with the skins on for about 15 minutes, then allow to cool and peel. Thinly slice the potatoes and cucumber. Nanny’s recipe calls for salt and pepper with one tablespoon of oil and one of vinegar, but Dad has jazzed things up, adding shallots, a dash of mayonnaise, and the secret ingredient: one tablespoon of lemonade.
The greatest thing about this dish, beyond the taste, is that it’s really easy to make. I’ve made it in my uni kitchen plenty of times, and it’s a recipe I’ll rely on for the rest of my life.
The less famous relative of Schnitzel mit Kartoffelsalat is Spätzle. Google describes it as ‘egg noodles’, but it’s closest to pasta, shaped like little bits of calamari. It goes with meat stews. My grandma makes hers by hand. Flour, eggs, salt, and pepper go into a bowl, with little drops of water added until it forms a dough. Using a press, or scraping the individual pieces, she puts them into boiling water one by one, stirring immediately, so they don’t stick together.
When she was young, Nanny read adventure books where the hero travelled all around the world to experience new cultures. Without telling a soul, she began saving scraps and pennies together to travel to America and venture beyond the nearby city of Stuttgart. It was a plan that she’d had in her mind for years. When she turned 18, Nanny voiced it to Oma, my great-grandmother, who did not like the thought of her Hilde being so far away.
In a compromise, Nanny boarded a train to take her north to England where she’d managed to secure a job looking after two children in a town near Manchester. Her father, a talented musician, was ill in hospital when she left. He wrote her the last letter she received from him, sending love and luck for her own adventure. He died soon after.
“Without telling a soul, she began saving scraps and pennies together to travel to America and venture beyond the nearby city of Stuttgart”
On the night we speak, she is making Linsen mit Spätzle for dinner.
“It’s very important to use green lentils, not red, and the trick is to leave them in cold water overnight to quell – no, that’s the German word. What am I thinking of? – To swell. It makes them softer.”
The lentils, onion and vegetable stock go in a warm pan with a tablespoon of vinegar for half an hour – the lentils will go brown when cooked. Eight minutes before the end, add a couple of frankfurters (this is German cooking after all!) and some Spätzle. The result is a wholesome broth, perfect for a cold evening in February.
“You didn’t get any nice food after the war, so Linsen was my main comfort meal.”
It’s been 79 years since the end of the World War II, but Nanny is stringent with her food wastage – eggshells are cleaned out by hand for any escaped egg white, food is only out of date when eating it would result in chronic food poisoning, and unfinished dinner is a sacrilege. As a result, my family and I are human hoovers.
‘Sauerkraut’ is an excellent insult, should you ever need one, but for our purposes, it’s fermented cabbage that my grandma and my dad love.
This is a very traditional ingredient, and I’ll tell you how Nanny makes it. Firstly, she says the best Sauerkraut is Hengstenberg, which is made in Esslingen, near Nanny’s hometown, which can be found in a jar on the prestigious shelves of Waitrose.
“Sometimes, before cooking, I help myself to a forkful cold. It’s very good.”
Put butter in a pan and soften some onions, add the Sauerkraut with a cup of hot water to keep the colour and stop it from burning, then cook on medium to high heat. Add diced smoked ham or pork for taste. When it’s nearly done, add a teaspoon of cornflour to some cold water and add to the pan to thicken. Serve with boiled potatoes on the side.
The award for most controversial of my family’s German favourites goes to Currywurst. Frequently found in the Christmas markets of Germany, this is a staple. It was invented by Herta Heuwer, a kiosk owner in the 1940s in Berlin, who is said to have sourced curry powder and Worcestershire sauce from British soldiers because of food shortages after the war.
“There’s a saying in the south, loosely translated: ‘Work, work, build your house, and then die‘”
Nanny Jackson
A layer of shredded potatoes or chips is laid at the bottom, the resting place for one large, processed sausage (usually pork, although it’s sometimes hard to tell) neatly sliced in diagonal chunks for ease of consumption. On top of the chips and sausage goes a generous coating of curry sauce. And there you have it!
Comforting or disgusting? I’ll let you decide.
If this is too much, Nanny recommends Rote Wurst mit Senf, another sausage (shock!) traditional in south Germany in a Brötchen (small loaf of bread) with mustard.
“Currywurst is more in the north, but Rote Wurst is in the south,” she says. “It’s always been there, since I was a child.”
The south of Germany is a bit like the north of England, in that everyone has strong accents and snobbish people who live at the opposite end of the country may look down on them. “In the south, we have the best industry and car manufacturers, very hard-working people. There’s a saying in the south, loosely translated: ‘Work, work, build your house, and then die.’” Cheerful stuff.
An honourable mention goes to Kaiserschmarrn, which is technically Austrian, but an absolute family favourite. They’re like thick pancakes, but broken up into bitesize chunks – the name means ‘Emperor’s Mess’, as they are a messy take on a more traditional round pancake and named after Franz Joseph I of Austria who enjoyed the dessert.
Fluffy and delicious on the inside, with a bit of a crunch on the outside, best served with raisins, and icing sugar. If you’re feeling adventurous, add Apfelmus (puréed apple that my siblings will bring back to the UK in enormous jars to last until the next time we visit) which provides a light accompaniment to the pancake.
This is best enjoyed with friends or family. Give everyone a fork, put the Kaiserschmarrn on a plate in the middle, and tuck in.
Finally, where the English have afternoon tea, the Germans have Kaffe und Kuchen. Nanny’s region is famous for Schwarzwälder Kirschetorte – a three-tier chocolate cake layered with whipped cream, black cherry mixture and Kirsch liqueur, then decorated with cream, dark chocolate shavings and cherries.
“Love it,” says Nanny. I couldn’t agree more.