Showing posts with label Federweißer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Federweißer. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Zwiebelkuchen und Neuerwein



So many things happen in Germany in the autumn.  Weinfests. Oktoberfests.  Leaves molting from green to yellow, amber, brown, and red. A slight chill in the morning air. Best of all, it’s harvest time in the Vineyards.  Which means…

It’s Zwiebelkuchen and Neuerwein time!  Gets the heart pumping, doesn’t it!  Bet if you knew what the hell they are, your heart would pound a hole in your puny chest!  Just settle back and leave it to me to keep you informed and well fed.

Just to whet your appetite, sip some Neuerwein, or new wine.  It’s also called Federweißer, meaning feather white, from the bits of yeast still floating around.  Actually, it’s not new wine, its just headed in that direction.  Cloudy and generally 4% alcohol, it’s sweet and slightly bitter, with a hint of natural carbonation from the fermentation.  Matter of fact, the Germans only loosely cap it so the carbonation can escape.  At this point you’re having a conversation with yourself.  You’re not in Germany.  You’ve never heard of, let alone tasted Neuerwein, but by golly you’d like to try some!

Leave it to me to come up with a solution.  Let me amend that, to ‘leave it to my wife,’ who subs in the kitchen when she is not out working and slaving to support me.  Here’s the basic formula from La Cuisine de Chez Moi:

2 parts tonic water
1 part white grape juice
1 part dry white wine

Ok, it’s not exact, but it’s close.  Not satisfied?  Well, shell out some coin, you cheap bastard, and catch a flight to Germany!

On to the pièce de resistance, zwiebelkuchen, or onion cake.  Don’t know why they call it cake, since it’s more of an onion pie.   But, whatever you call it, grab a fork!  Don’t worry about a napkin; you won’t leave a crumb.

Before I start, here’s a disclaimer:  Every German grandmother makes a different version of zwiebelkuchen, so I took liberties, too.  In the first place, I prefer a lighter, flakier crust than you find on most commercial zwiebelkuchens, so I used a homemade pie crust. instead of the traditional yeast crust.  See video below.

Let’s have a drink and get started!

Preheat the oven to 430ºF (220ºC) ( after the crust comes out of the frig)

Favorite Pie Crust (this will chill for an hour)

2 1/2 Cups all purpose flour
1/2 Teaspoon salt
1 1/2 Cups butter
3-6 Tablespoons of ice water.

Rather than a lengthy explanation, just watch this short (less than 5 min), dynamite video and you’ll be an instant expert. http://allrecipes.com/video/265/how-to-make-pie-crust/

Pie Filling


Note:  Before you start on the filling, roll out the pie crust, put it in a pie pan and put it back in the frig while you make the filling.



3 Large onions, peeled, quartered, and thinly sliced
1 Cup raw bacon, diced
2 Cups Crème Frâiche
4 Eggs
Pepper
Nutmeg
Caraway seeds

Cook the onions on low heat, in a large skillet.  You want them translucent, not caramelized. About 15-20 minutes.  

When cooked the onions will reduce to about half this amount


Remove the onions and add the bacon to the skillet.  Cook until crispy.  Mix the onions and bacon in a bowl.  In another bowl, mix the crème frâiche, eggs, gratings of nutmeg and pepper.  When the onion mixture has cooled, mix it with the egg mixture.  Pour it into the prepared pie pan. Sprinkle on a few caraway seeds.





Slide the pie into the preheated oven and bake for 40-50 minutes.  Check it at the 30 minute point and if the crust is browning too rapidly, cover the pie with a sheet of aluminum foil.

You may have guessed that Zwiebelkuchen is very similar to Quiche.  No secret there.  Both come from roughly the same area.  Lorraine is now France, but has bounced back and forth, so a lot of recipes traveled.

Besides a flaky crust, another peeve of mine is an egg dish that tastes too eggy.  If I want scrambled eggs, I’ll make ‘em.  This recipe for Zwiebelkuchen is light and fluffy, without a hint of heavy egg flavor.

Now, quit dallying, pour yourself another Federweißer, and get to work!









Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Federweißer und Zwiebelkuchen





German mornings are chilled and raw these days.  Rain is not unknown.   Forests and open fields billow with fog, as if they’re on fire. 

Faded leaves have lost their verdant colors and those that fall, dance across the road like tiny, brown elves. High up on the hills, smudges of gold and red dot the horizon.  Yes, fall, winter’s stepchild, has taken away our splendid, carefree summer.

But, some remnants of fun remain.  After all, this is Germany, the land of seasonal celebrations and glorious libations.  Bierfests, of course, but also Weinfests, including the once a year appearance of Federweißer, or new wine.  Actually, it’s not quite wine yet, but its journey has begun.  Comes in red or white, capped with foil, but never corked because this new wine still bubbles with fermentation.

Ok, time for a quick German language lesson.  First thing to remember:  all German nouns are capitalized.   Number two:  that funny looking letter that looks as if someone got drunk in the middle of the word….ß…is pronounced like a double s.  So if I wanted to pander to my fellow Americans, I could write Federweißer as Federweisser.

Number three:  W is pronounced as a V.  V is pronounced as an F.  Wine is pronounced with a smile.

Number four:  If i comes before e in a word, then ignore the i and pronounce the e as a long e, but if the e comes before i, then ignore the e and pronounce i as a long i.  So, Federweißer is pronounced Fed-er-vice-er.

Got all that?  Grand!  You’re on your way to fluency and debauchery.

Fragrant and sweeter than apple juice, Federweißer (often also called Neuer Wein) signals the coming of autumn as surely as the leaves on the trees, and the sweater on your back.  Unlike other wines, Feder is cloudy and suits the taste buds best if it’s chilled.  Alcohol content is so low and the sugar content so high, you’ll manage a raging case of diabetes well before you get drunk.

This time of year, Federweißer is sold along the roadsides, in grocery stores, and at nearly every German style restaurant.  No home should be without a bottle or two and mine is no exception.

But Germans seldom just drink, unless it’s beer.  With Federweißer comes Ziebelkuchen (Zwebel-kook-en), an onion cake much like the famous quiche from across the nearby border.  Onion cake?  Really?  Yep and you may rest assured that with it’s salty custard flavor, sweetened only by the natural sweetness of onions, it’s a perfect accompaniment to your glass of Federweißer.

I don’t make Ziebelkuchen for the simple reason that an excellent bakery is only a few steps from my house.  For those unfortunates who don’t have a German bakery right down the street and won’t part with the money to fly to Germany for lunch, you can give onion cake a try in your own kitchen. http://www.food.com/recipe/german-zwiebelkuchen-onion-pie-305407

And, if you can’t find Federweißer sub a sweet Riesling.

Prost!