Both Hearty and Light

Scaling the mountain of cookbook writing

I have no photo of the Getzen, but I do have one of me in Berlin in spring! At least I think it’s spring? Well, it’s springlike and that will have to do. Photo by Ramon Haindl

At long last, I have reached the point in the writing of Classic German Cooking where I can see the book as it will one day be, rather than feel overwhelmed to the point of nausea every time I think about it. For such a long time, in my mind it was nothing but a terrifying, amorphous mound of recipes and images, an overwhelming Sisyphean experience more than a scalable project. No matter how many recipes I tested, I couldn’t make the mountain any smaller. I felt no small amount of despair about it every time I woke up with a start in the middle of the night. How would I ever get it done?

And then one day, after the 178th passthrough of the table of contents and recipe list, I realized that it was starting to come together, that an actual book that made sense and was manageable was emerging, that I was in this moment actually, finally, writing a book that will be nice to read and cook from. This, unsurprisingly, filled me with relief, a kind of giddy, almost deranged delight. And it happened to—perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not—fall on the Vernal Equinox.

This is the 13th year that I have lived in Berlin again, the 13th winter that I have survived. It took me a while to realize the pattern of seasonal depression that would set in around January and lift only when spring came; in March, if we were lucky, in late April or early May, if we were unlucky. Being aware of it helped a little, but not really. This winter, I gave thanks for the fact that two separate groups of friends planned regular gatherings each month to make it through the cold, dark time. Those evenings were wonderful, a tonic, a salve. And yet still, the last few weeks of winter were a slog.

But Sunday, March 20th, the day I first felt like I could finally see the book, was warm and beautiful and the birds chirped in the trees outside our windows and the boys and I spent an afternoon exploring a new neighborhood and bumping into friends unexpectedly at the playground and these friends were drinking beers and eating Takis that they had bought at the corner shop and the sun hit our faces just so and the children ran around without their jackets on and the relief and joy I felt was so delicious it nearly brought me to tears. Winters here never stop being hard. But spring is a revelation every year.

To celebrate all of these things, today I want to share with you one of my favorite discoveries from writing Classic German Cooking: a grated potato casserole that is like one enormous oven-baked potato pancake drenched in buttermilk and savory with onions and bacon. Buttermilchgetzen is a traditional recipe from the Ore Mountains in Saxony that gives new life to any leftover boiled potatoes you might have on your hands, a common experience in German homes. Those leftover potatoes are grated, then combined with grated raw potatoes, crisp cubes of Speck, fragrant caraway and a generous pour of buttermilk. This mixture is baked until crisp on top, then scooped out onto plates. It’s a warm, cozy, satisfying casserole that manages to be both hearty and light at the same time. The buttermilk gives the casserole a deliciously sour note, while the grated cooked potatoes bind and give it body.

In olden times, when meat made only occasional appearances on the dinner table, Getzen was served as the main course, with salad on the side. It could, however, also be served as a side to a roast, for example. We usually just eat it as a main course with a big salad full of crisp, cold lettuce and radishes and cucumbers and chives, ideally with a nice sharp vinaigrette or dressed with a light yogurt dressing, but more on that in the book. I should point out that having a food processor to shred the raw potatoes will make this easy casserole even easier to execute. (The cooked ones you do by hand.) Buttermilchgetzen is a great candidate for a potluck dish as you can make it in advance and it’s both transportable and crowd-pleasing.

I think the smoky, salty bits of bacon are essential here. If you live in Europe, use cubed lardons or Schinkenspeck; in the US, just mince smoked bacon. But if you want a vegetarian Buttermilchgetzen, leave out the bacon and mince the onion instead of grating it, then fry it in the oil until browned and fragrant. Mix this into the potato mixture in place of the bacon. Add ½ teaspoon more salt to the dish before baking.

Buttermilchgetzen (Grated Potato Casserole)
Serves 6 as a side or 4 as part of a light meal

1 tablespoon vegetable oil, plus more for the pan
100 grams/3 1/2 ounces minced lean bacon
800 grams/1 lb 13 ounces floury potatoes, like Russet, peeled
1 yellow onion, peeled
300 grams/10 1/2 ounces floury potatoes, like Russet, boiled and cooled
200 ml/3/4 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon whole caraway seed
1 teaspoon sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

1. Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C. Butter or oil the bottom and sides of a 9-by-13-inch baking dish.

2. Place 1 tablespoon of oil or butter in a small frying pan over medium heat and add the minced bacon. (Schinkenspeck is very lean, which is why I add a bit of oil to the pan. If you’re using very fatty bacon, you might not need the oil.) Cook, stirring occasionally, until the fat has rendered and the bacon is fragrant and crisp. Set aside.

3. Using the grater of a food processor or the largest holes of manual grater, shred the raw potatoes. Place in a large bowl. Shred the onion and add to the bowl. Peel the boiled potatoes and grate into the bowl using the largest holes of a manual grater.

4. Add the buttermilk, caraway, salt and pepper to taste to the potatoes. Add the Speck. Mix well, making sure that the seasonings are evenly distributed.

5. Scrape the mixture into the prepared pan, smoothing the top. Place in the oven and bake for one hour, until the top has browned and crisped. Serve immediately.