Some Memories of Germany, Frankfurt, Part 2

Besides apple wine,* which is hard cider, Frankfurt is known for "Handkäse mit Musik," with the first often written as "Handkäs," and it is literally "hand cheese," as it was formed by hand, although commercially now I'm sure it is all done by machine. It is a light colored cheese formed into a ball, which when served with oil, vinegar, salt and pepper, it is said to be "mit Musik" (with music). The reason for the music? Well, the polite explanation has always been that the oil and vinegar bottles clanking together provided "music," but the common explanation is that the onion caused some people to develop gas, which then provided the "music," if you get my drift. I always liked this cheese dish.

Another specialty of Frankfurt and region is "Grüne Soße" (ß=ss, "green sauce"), but known in Hessian dialect as "Grie Sooß," or "Grie Soos," an herb sauce made with various herbs, sour cream, mayonnaise or cream, chopped hard boiled eggs and some other ingredients, and often served with either boiled beef, salmon, boiled potatoes, or hard boiled egg halves. The herbs vary from area to area, and also by availability, but most often include some or all of the following: chives, parsley, chervil, sorrel, dill, watercress, borage and tarragon. I've often heard in Frankfurt that native son and famous author Johann Wolfgang von Goethe considered this sauce to be his favorite.

Frankfurt has a great shopping district, the "Zeil" (it is "die Zeil," pronounced as if "dee tsile," rhymes with "tile") a pedestrian only area, known in German as a "Fußgängerzone." It was, and I suppose still is, common to see musicians playing, gymnasts springing about, or magicians performing along the Zeil, and of course they had a jar, can or hat for "welcome donations." The Christmas season has the Frankfurt Christkindlmarkt (Christmas Market, literally, Christ Child Market) at the "Römerberg," a plaza in the heart of the old part of the city, which has the Frankfurt city hall, a structure several hundred years old, although much of it was destroyed in World War Two, only to be rebuilt as closely as possible to the original plans. I was in Frankfurt in December 1988 and got to see this seasonal market setup there, complete with a glass of "Glühwein" (warm spiced wine, literally to English: "glow wine"). I also was using Pan Am for my round trip, and I left Germany just like two days before that Pan Am flight exploded over Scotland, the result of a bomb placed on board, but my flight went directly from Frankfurt to New York, then a change of planes for Cleveland.    

* There are many dialects words for apple wine, including: Äppelwein, Ebbelwoi, Ebbelwei, and Stöffche,  although in standard German it is "Apfelwein."

This is a picture of the inside of the main train station (Hauptbahnhof) in Frankfurt from the 1980s, with some of the shops visible.

WORD HISTORY:
Shop-The origin of this word is uncertain, but Old Germanic had "skuppan," which meant "add-on building (to the main or original structure), additional building or structure." This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "scoppa/sceoppa," which meant "shed, booth, workplace." This then became "shoppe," before the modern form, although "shoppe" is still used by some as part of the name for a business. The word's spelling was likely reinforced by French "eschoppe," which was borrowed from a Germanic dialect (Frankish? Low German? Dutch?), and which meant "booth." Since some sold items from these structures, the idea of "a place to sell merchandise" developed in English, and from that, "to go to such a place to buy merchandise," which gave English the verb sense in the 1600s. The meaning "place for work" has also lasted into modern times, especially in terms like "workshop," "metal shop" and "print shop." The original Germanic also gave Old English "scipen," which meant "cowshed, cow stall," and it came down to modern times as "shippon," but it survives in dialect in Eng;land, and still means "cowshed."  "Shop" has a close relative in German "Schuppen" (shed).   

Plum Pudding and Plum Cake

Believe it or not, it wasn't until a few years ago that I had my first "plum pudding." It was during the Christmas season and one of the stores had it advertised. I'd long heard of plum pudding, but I really didn't even know what it was. It came in a small tin canister, as I recall. I tried it and I liked it. It is in the same sort of category as fruit cake, as it contains pieces of dried fruit in a spiced dark cake like mixture, laced with rum or brandy. A little research revealed there are no plums in plum pudding, the term for the dessert being taken from the fact that up until about two hundred years ago, raisins were referred to as "plums" in England, and plum pudding has lots of raisins. It eventually came to be associated with Christmas in England and some people made the pudding about a year in advance, allowing the product to age for a year, before serving it. Plum pudding made the journey across the Atlantic with English colonists, whose descendants became Americans, and I suppose it may still traditionally grace the Christmas menu in parts of New England, or a few rural areas, where such traditions have lingered. The term "pudding" will also throw most Americans off, too, as in England, puddings can mean a dish of meat and other ingredients boiled or steamed until solidified into a loaf or sausage, or a pudding can be a pastry or a sweetened dessert like rice pudding. To non American readers, most Americans certainly think of pudding as a milk-based kind of custard, or cornstarch thickened flavored milk dessert.

Initially I was going to include a recipe here, but there are many and you can find a multitude of such online or in cookbooks. The general idea is, raisins, dried fruit peel, and spices like nutmeg, ground cloves, and cinnamon are combined and soaked in rum or brandy for a few days. These are then mixed with flour, bread pieces or bread crumbs, eggs, sugar, and more rum or brandy. The dough can then be wrapped in cloth and steamed or boiled, or put into a bowl and steamed.

Plum cake (what Americans might call a plum tart) is something I became attached to in Germany, where bake shops frequently had them displayed in their windows. There are many regional terms for this dessert in German, with "Pflaumenkuchen" (literally "plum cake") being more common in the north and a wide variety of forms like Zwetschgendatschi/Zwetschkendatschi" (in Bavaria and Austria), "Quetschekuchen" (Hessen and part of the Rhineland) or "Zwetschgenkuchen" used elsewhere. It is my understanding that it is also made in the German part of Switzerland, but I'm not sure of the name they use for it there. A plum tart has a flat, usually yeast-risen, somewhat sweetened dough rolled out like a pizza crust for a baking sheet. The pitted, but unpeeled plums are fitted onto the dough in overlapping fashion, like roofing tiles. Sugar and cinnamon are sprinkled over the top, or in some regions, it is more of a streusel like topping. I loved the "Quetschekuche" of Frankfurt, along with a cup of coffee.         

WORD HISTORY:
Plum/Prune-These are really the same word, but in slightly altered forms. The ultimate origins are uncertain, although many believe the term to come from an ancient language in the area of what is now Turkey, but well before the Turks settled there, and people in that area in ancient times were often Indo Europeans. Anyway, Greek had "proumnon" which then became "prounon," which meant "plum." Latin borrowed the word from Greek as "prunum," which then became "pruna." Old Germanic borrowed the word from Latin, but with many of the Germanic dialects changing the "r" to "l;" thus Old English (Anglo-Saxon) had "plume" (likely pronounced as "ploom-eh," before the "u" sound changed to a short sound, and the ending "e" was dropped). The Latin form "pruna" was inherited by Old French, a Latin-based language, as "prune." English borrowed the word circa 1400; thus English has "plum" for the fresh fruit and "prune" for the dried, wrinkled, shiny fruit. Forms in the other Germanic languages: standard German has "Pflaume"^ (plum) and both "Backpflaume" and "Dörrpflaume" (dried plum/prune); Low German Saxon has "Pluum" (plum) and "Backpluum" (prune); Dutch has "pruim" (plum) and "pruimen" (prune); West Frisian has "prom" (plum); Danish has "blomme" (plum; notice the "b" in place of "p"); Norwegian has "plomme" (plum) and Swedish has "plommon" (plum) and Icelandic has "plóma."

^ Standard German is based upon a form of High German. One of the characteristics of High German long ago was the "frequent" change in sound of "p" to "pf" and sometimes to "f." Thus while English has "pipe," German has "Pfeife," where the first "p" changed to "pf" and the second "p" changed to "f." The Low German dialects and Frisian were not affected by this sound change, nor was English, as the Anglo-Saxons had already departed the mainland for Britain by the time many of the changes which brought about High German had taken place. 

Germans and Apples

Because apples keep so well, fall and winter are good times to know about some dishes using apples. The Germans have a sort of love affair with the apple and I'd say their most popular fruit juice is apple juice. By German, I mean people of German background, not just the nationality German; so, people in Germany, Austria, about 2/3 of Switzerland, much of Luxembourg, Liechtenstein, much of Alsace and a fair part of Lorraine, as well as a part of northern Italy.* Even if you're a "picky" eater, please don't turn your nose up at some of the combinations until you have at least tried them. I believe I've told this little story before, but it bears repeating. Back in the 1980s I was traveling on a train (common transportation in Germany, and Europe in general) between Wiesbaden and Frankfurt, which are only about 20 miles apart. An American couple, likely in their 60s, was sitting across from me. Americans were frequently encountered in the area due to the large American military presence in what was then West Germany, but these folks were tourists. I started a conversation with them and found out they were from Seattle, so somewhere in the neighborhood of 5500 to 6000 miles from Germany. They were headed for Frankfurt and they wanted to know about places to eat, as this was their first trip to Germany. Since they would be getting off the train at the main train station in Frankfurt, I immediately recommended the "Dippegucker Restaurant am Hauptbahnhof," which simply means "the pot looker restaurant at the main train station." The lady then said she was afraid to try German food, as she might not like it, and that they would probably just go to McDonald's (McDonald's has many outlets in Germany, all of which sell beer and wine). So, she traveled about 6000 miles to eat a hamburger she could have gotten on any street corner in America? While it's been many years, I have to believe it took a great deal of self restraint on my part to keep from smacking her, kicking her in the shin, or calling her a "blöde Kuh," if not all three. ("Blöde Kuh" means stupid or silly cow, in German).
    
A pretty common German dish in many areas comes from Berlin and is simply "liver and onions," but the recipe includes sliced apples with the onions. For Germans, the liver is usually calves liver, but the substitution of beef or pork liver will not condemn you to prison, and while some Germans have told me the apples have to be green, like Granny Smiths, I've used Red Delicious for years and I have yet to turn into a pillar of salt, so use what you have and, by the way, I leave the skin on the apples. Here in America, you may see this dish on the menu of German restaurants as "Berlin Liver," or perhaps, "Berlin Style Liver."

Then there's "Himmel und Erde," or "Himmel un Ääd" in some Rhineland dialects, which means "Heaven and Earth." The dish is simply mashed potatoes and apples; that is, the (lightly cooked) apples are mashed in with the potatoes. The name idea is, the apples represent the "heaven or sky," as they come from a tree, and the "earth" is represented by the potatoes, which have to be dug out of the ground. There are variations on this dish, depending upon the area, and some Germans use pears instead of apples. In the south, in Bavaria and Austria, I've seen recipes simply calling it "Puree of Apples and Potatoes." Germans often serve it with blood sausage (Blutwurst), Bratwurst, or liverwurst (Leberwurst). To give it some texture, I often don't completely mash the apples up, or if I don't have fresh apples, I add the store bought chunky apple sauce from a jar after the potatoes are mashed. Now if you think potatoes and apples don't go together, see the next listing.

Speaking of potatoes, potato pancakes are common in German areas, and they are usually accompanied by apple sauce, which is pretty common in the U.S. too. See, you've probably had potatoes and apples before. The standard German word for potato pancakes is "Kartoffelpfannkuchen," but there are a number of dialect terms and recipe variations like,  "Reibekuchen," "Döbbekuchen," "Döbbekooche," "Dibbekoche," "Dippedotz," "Reiberdatschi," "Rievekooche,"  "Grumbeer Pannekuche," and others. Some Germans believe the potatoes should be freshly grated, while others use potatoes first boiled in their skins. Besides the potatoes, there is some onion added (either grated or finely chopped), as well as some flour and salt. To this base recipe some regions add chopped bacon, or even whole strips of bacon are placed on top and the dish is finished in the oven. In the past, lard was commonly used for frying, but nowadays oil is more common.

Swiss Germans make a fried apple dish (Apfel Bröisi), which is thin bread slices fried in butter and sugar, then apple slices are added and fried further until the apples are soft. The dish is topped with fresh dabs of butter, sugar and cinnamon. 

Germans add apples to sauerkraut or to red cabbage (called Rotkohl, Rotkraut, or Blaukraut, depending upon region). In some areas, especially in Austria and Bavaria, apples are cored, stuffed with raisins and walnuts or hazelnuts (sometimes cranberries and lemon zest are added too) and are baked in white wine, butter, and sugar, which combine in a syrupy sauce, to which apple brandy (Schnapps) can be added. The finished dish, called "Bratäpfel" (baked apples), or "Besoffene Bratäpfel" ('drunken' baked apples, because of the wine and schnapps) is often served with warm vanilla sauce, made with heated milk, egg yolks, sugar, and vanilla.

If you're in the German state of Hessen (often Hesse, in English), you'll want to finish your meal with a nice glass, or ten, of apple wine, which is really like hard apple cider, and is a specialty of Hessen in general, but particularly of Frankfurt. The standard German word for this drink is "Apfelwein," but there are variations in Hessian dialect, including ""Ebbelwoi,"  "Äppelwei," or "Stöffche," and you can get it by the glass ("Rippenglas;" that is "ribbed glass," which has ridges for a good grip) or the "Bembel" (a stoneware jug), and after a few of either, you won't much care what name the Hessians call it ... ah ... at least that's what I've heard.  

* Alsace and Lorraine are parts of eastern France. 

 

WORD HISTORY:
Apple-This noun goes back to Indo European "abol," "abel," the exact meaning of which is unclear, but which had to do with "produce of trees and vines," and there are forms in other, non Germanic, languages too. Its Old Germanic offspring was "aplaz," which meant "fruit, nuts." This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "aeppel," which meant "fruit," and later this became "appel," before the modern version. It wasn't until the 1500s and 1600s that the meaning narrowed to the specific type of fruit we now call an "apple." Translations of the Bible over time generally used "forbidden fruit" in the Garden of Eden, but some translations called this fruit "apple," from the general meaning of the word back then. Common in the other Germanic languages: standard German "Apfel," all sorts of German dialect forms like "Ebbel," "Appel," "Apel," "Äppel," "Äbbel," "Epfel," "Ebbfe," "Opfe," Low German Saxon and Dutch "Appel,"  West Frisian "apel," Danish "aeble," Icelandic "epli," Norwegian "eple," and Swedish "äpple."