Steaming Hot Choucroute

First published: April 6, 2013 by France Today Editors

I grew up eating sauerkraut from a jar. It was my father’s fault. He was raised in a German household in Chicago, and his palate had a predilection for all things German. Sauerkraut was just one of them. I could talk about the jarred pickled pigs’ feet, the liverwurst (with chunks, please), the limburger too, but it’s the sauerkraut that holds top billing in my memory.

Now, my father also loved kimchee, that ever-so-spicy Korean pickled cabbage that in those years was nearly unheard of. It, too, was a frequent visitor to the family table. Whence such tastes? My father was a career military man with a palate as adventuresome as his spirit; he quailed at nothing when it came to food. For him, the weirder and the spicier the better.

His predilection for kimchee turns out to be coherent with his love for sauerkraut. It turns out they have the same origins. It all has to do with the construction of the Great Wall of China. There are legends to explain this; the one I prefer involves wooden barrels filled with cabbages that were placed strategically along the Wall’s length. The cabbages were fermented because the Chinese believed fermentation gave them medicinal values, and they were essential to the strength of the workers.

Mongols and monks

The rest of the story is a wild one involving Mongols, Huns, Tartars and the conquest of Europe, ultimately ending up in the territory now called Alsace. There, according to legend, in 451 the very first cabbages destined for pickling were cultivated. It wasn’t until the 15th century, though, that written reference is made to a dish sometimes called chou compost, or “compost cabbage”, and sometimes referred to as chou acide, acidic cabbage or sauer kraut, that was prepared in monasteries of the region.

The beauty of this sauerkraut, which was basically thinly sliced cabbage layered with salt and kept hermetically sealed for several weeks until it “cooked” to a tender crispness, was its high content of vitamin C. From the builders of the Great Wall and the roving Mongol hordes to the monks and the mariners who ultimately made it an essential provision for seagoing voyages, sauerkraut kept strength high and scurvy at bay.

By the 19th century sauerkraut was well established in Germany, and choucroute in Alsace, now garnished with its retinue of pork products. The fermented cabbage had given its name to a dish, which had become a vaunted regional specialty, always accompanied by mustards and beer or, even better, Riesling.

Getting hooked

When I saw my first French choucroute, it was bubbling away in a huge steaming pan at my local farmer’s market. The smell alone was like a string with a fishhook on it, and it caught—right in the memory of my childhood love of sauerkraut. My first taste of the French version was, however, something of a shock. Instead of the lively, mouth-puckering and crunchy version of my youth, I tasted an herbredolent, tender, slightly sweet, ever so lightly smoked dish that opened my palate onto an entire new universe. I was hooked. Part of its attraction was the familiarity. As I became the grown up version of myself, so choucroute became the grown up version of sauerkraut.

We were like old friends who haven’t met for forty years and meet again— even better friends than we were before. But, like friendship, in the twists, turns and distractions of life, sometimes things we love are gently set aside. Never forgotten, of course, but as in the case of choucroute, simply displaced in favor of the multitude of other dishes to be discovered and loved. I hadn’t eaten choucroute in a long time, until three weeks ago when it was served at a dinner party at an expatriate German’s home.

The anticipation was great as we all sat around the coffee table dipping into a wide variety of appetizers before the meal. Off in the dining room I spied a long chauffeplat, or hot plate, in the center of the table. On the side table was a forest of beer bottles and instead of wine glasses there were largebowled beer glasses. The table was set with shallow soup bowls rather than plates. All was ready. As we sat down, our hostess disappeared into the kitchen and emerged with a platter almost as large as she is. We all helped to settle it in the center of the table, steam wafting from it in perfect splendor. The large, low mound of choucroute was absolutely buried in sausages, ranging in color from golden to brick red, and caramelized chunks of smoked bacon.

A bit of this and that

Choucroute is not for the faint of heart; it is food for field workers and wall builders. You don’t just dab a tiny portion on your plate. We all obliged, filling our plates and going back for more. The slight tangy sweetness of the choucroute, the satisfying salty and smoky pork, the tang of mustard, the effervescence of beer—choucroute is a fête on the plate that no one can resist. I returned home entirely inspired to make my own.

First thing was to get my friend’s recipe. “Recipe?” she said. “There is no recipe, it’s just a bit of this and that.” I wrote down her “this and that,” referred to an old favorite recipe I hadn’t made in years and proceeded to gather my ingredients. Choucroute is not complicated, but certain things are vital. Good pickled cabbage is one, a good variety of top-quality pork sausages and cuts is another. My butcher provided both. Then there were the secrets from my German friends: “At least three apples and that many onions too. And don’t forget the sugar.”

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the cabbage must not be overcooked. And how to judge the timing? It’s all in the tasting. The goal is cabbage that has absorbed the flavor of the herbs and wine it’s been cooked in, yet has retained its firm texture. You should be able to tell by the delighted look of your guests that you got it right.

Susan Herrmann Loomis teaches cooking classes in Normandy and Paris.

www.onruetatin.com

CHOUCROUTE GARNIE
CHOUCROUTE WITH PORK

2 lb (1 kg) sauerkraut
3 tbsp duck or goose fat (lard may be substituted)
4 onions, peeled and thinly sliced
3 sweet apples, cored, peeled, and thinly sliced
3 tbsp sugar
2 cups Riesling or other fruity white wine
1 cup (250 ml) water
Freshly ground pepper to taste
2 whole cloves
6 juniper berries
2 bay leaves
2 cloves garlic
6 smoked knackwurst
6 fresh German frankfurters
1 lb (500 g) smoked pork sausage, such as kielbasa
2 lb (1 kg) small potatoes
2 tsp salt
1 lb (500 g) slab bacon, cut into large chunks

1. Preheat the oven to 350° F (180° C).
2. Soak the sauerkraut in cold water for one hour. If it is very acidic
or salty, soak it until it is edible, raw. You want some of the acidity to
remain, so taste it as it soaks.
3. In a large, flameproof casserole over low heat, melt the fat and add
the onions. Sauté until the onions are tender, about 8 min. Remove
from heat.
4. Remove the onions from the pan. Put one-third of the choucroute
in the pan, and top with half the onions and half the apples. Sprinkle
with 1 tbsp of the sugar. Season with salt and pepper. Repeat with
another layer, and top off with the remaining choucroute and sugar.
5. Add the cloves, juniper berries, bay leaves and garlic, pushing
them down into the choucroute. Add the wine and water, place the
pan over medium heat and when the liquid comes to a boil, cover
the pan and place it in the oven until it is cooked and tender, but still
has some texture, about 1-1/2 hours. Check it occasionally; add additional
water if necessary. You want it moist, not soupy.
6. While the choucroute is baking, pierce all of the sausages throughout
so they don’t burst during cooking. Poach each variety separately
in gently simmering water, for about 20 min. Drain all the sausages,
slice the kielbasa, cut the longer sausages in half, and keep all warm
until serving time.
7. Meanwhile, cover the potatoes with water, add salt, and bring to
a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat so the water boils gently
and cook until the potatoes are tender, about 18 min.
8. Sauté the bacon until it is golden and crisp on all sides, about
8 min. Keep it warm.
9. To serve, make sure the choucroute is blistering hot. Drain it and
remove all the herbs and spices (if you can find them; if not, warn
your guests!) Mound the choucroute in the center of a big platter.
Surround it with the sausages and top it with the bacon and kielbasa.
Serve with plenty of mustard and chilled beer or Riesling.