One German food item has made it into each and every American supermarket, and it has kept its German name as well as its German spelling: Sauerkraut. Although Germans pronounce it with a “z”, and their “r” sounds different as well. As a matter of fact, though, it’s very questionable whether Sauerkraut originated in Germany because fermenting food is an international kitchen hack to preserve specific foods. So, the Chinese might claim the method for themselves. Or any Roman back in the day. Sauerkraut actually means sour cabbage, and maybe that’s why everybody considers it a German food item, because everybody knows the Germans’ love for cabbage. Thus, the derogatory wartime nickname “krauts”.
Where I grew up, in the rural suburbs of Stuttgart, Germany, one of the most famous kinds of white cabbages is significant for the entire region: Spitzkohl (pronounce: ‘shpits-cole, meaning pointed cabbage), aka Filderkraut (pronounce: ‘filder-kcrowt, meaning Filder cabbage). Filder (a word variety of fields) is also the region’s name. The pointed cabbage’s leaves are softer and its flavor is sweeter than that of the round white cabbage. Its shape makes it a bit harder to be processed by machines. Nonetheless, it is also the region’s favorite to be fermented into Sauerkraut. Of course, come harvest season, there is a regional fest – the Filderkrautfest (nice long German word, isn’t it?!). Visitors will enjoy Schupfnudeln (pronounce: ‘shoopf-noodle-n, i.e. finger-shaped potato dumplings) with Sauerkraut and other kraut specialties.
One of Germany’s best-known sauerkraut brands, Hengstenberg, has their manufacturing plant in Stuttgart’s neighboring city of Esslingen. They were the first company to can Sauerkraut as of 1932. They have different varieties, e.g. lactose-free, with pineapple, and with champagne. If you go to a German deli over here, you are sure to find Hengstenberg Sauerkraut on the shelves. Give it a try. I sometimes even get myself a tiny can and eat it right out of there. Actually, that’s also a fool-proof method to get your Sauerkraut side perfectly seasoned: you HAVE to taste a fork of it raw and cold to see how much else you want to add. It saved me from serving a can of American sauerkraut as it came and which I once (and only once!) bought in an American supermarket. That stuff was abysmally salty. I had to rinse it in a sieve in order to make it edible. This won’t ever happen with any German-brand Sauerkraut – you never have to wash that off.
Now, Sauerkraut is usually a side for rustic and fatty dishes, such as pork roasts or sausages of any kind. Because the acid cuts the fat and makes it more digestible. But there are also dishes that use it for its distinct flavor, such as sauerkraut casseroles or soups.
My mother used to cook Sauerkraut this way (using one large can for sides for four people): Fry some cubed bacon and a small cubed onion in butter until the onions are glassy. Reduce the temperature. Then add the sauerkraut and mix well with the onion and bacon. Add some juniper berries, a bay leaf, caraway seeds, and one grated apple, and let the kraut simmer gently until it is heated through. Guten Appetit!
Lovely article and a sweet reminder of home. I am making my Sauerkraut exactly like your mother!
How fun! And indeed, food creates memories as well as it triggers them. This sauerkraut recipe is certainly all about my time growing up.
Your mention of Filderkrautfest brings back fond memories of our 2019 trip to Germany. In the first couple of days we ended up in Ehrfurt and ran across Spargelfest – a cute local asparagus festival. Or so we thought. Over the next 7 weeks and all over Germany we ran into Spargelfest EVERYWHERE! Some great asparagus dishes to be sure, but I am convinced the German asparagus farmers’ cooperative is more effective than any US advertising firm – lol. (The dairy farmers in southern Germany run a close second….)
WHITE Asparagus has a long history in Germany, Gary. It’s not about marketing by the farmers, at all. It is hard to harvest (way harder than the green), as it has to be dug up. Also, it best grows in specific, sandy soil that you don’t find everywhere. It’s basically sprouts, which is why they are white and so soft and juicy. And so expensive. It used to be the vegetable of kings and other aristocracy.
Asparagus season (and I’m only talking white) usually starts in mid-April and lasts through June 24. You will find white asparagus all over Germany’s restaurant menus as well as in grocery stores. And, of course, there are festivals, too. (Germans have a lot of festivals for a lot of harvests and products.)
The most famous German asparagus is probably that of Schwetzingen (near Heidelberg). There is even a Spargelstrasse in Baden-Wuerttemberg. But then, regional produce has always been a “thing” in Germany.
Of course, Germans get French white asparagus, as well (the French love it, too), but the German kind is deemed even tenderer.
Now, of course, anything that is a “limited edition” becomes something very cherished. Think eggnog over here or pumpkin spiced lattes . 😉
I recall as a youngster treating my European-born mother one day to lunch in a Long Island (NY) restaurant. I saw “sauerkraut” on the menu thinking that she would be very pleased (knowing her love for the German-style cabbage) and ordered some for her as a side-dish treat. The look on her face when she tasted it and then asked me what it was told me that I had made a BIG mistake! This American-style “sauerkraut” was nothing like the “real thing” and I never made the mistake again. You just can’t beat good, German-style sauerkraut!
Oh my, and you tried to do something extra-nice! It’s something I learned a while ago for myself, too. It’s very rare to find the authentic stuff in a foreign country, unless you are at an authentic place. So, when going out in Germany, trust me, I’ll never take my husband to one of these “American” restaurants, LOL. Nor do I go to German restaurants over here – they often have to accommodate the American palate with food combos that are not typical.