Onion Soup of Tuscany: Carabaccia alla Fiorentina

I've read that this was a favorite soup of Leonardo da Vinci, and that the soup was taken by Catherine de Medici's Florentine kitchen staff to France, where it was used as the basis for what is now the famous French Onion Soup. I'm not totally certain of this, but it "seems" the original Italian onion soup of Medici's cooks did not have bread in it, with this part of the recipe being added later, but whether this was due to French influence, I have no idea (although the Italians put the bread in the dish and THEN put the soup over it), and there are other Italian onion soup recipes with bread that are similar to "carabaccia," but not quite the same, but variations in recipes for just about any good basic food exist. Bread was added to soups as a good way to use up bread, as it had no preservatives, and especially in warm weather, it would go bad quickly. Further, the addition of bread made the soup more substantial; that is, it could help to fill one's belly. 

The soup has a slight tanginess, but it's still to the sweet side from the onions, carrots and honey (if you use it).

Ingredients (about 4 to 6 servings):

3 red onions (baseball + size), peeled and thinly sliced

1/2 cup peeled and thinly sliced carrot

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 teaspoons salt

1/4 cup ground almonds

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon 

3 tablespoons red wine vinegar

(optional) up to 2 tablespoons honey

4 cups vegetable stock

1/4 to 1/3 freshly grated pecorino toscano cheese (Tuscan), or parmigiano reggiano*

4 to 6 half slices of toasted Italian bread or slices of baguette 

extra virgin olive oil for toasting the bread and for drizzling 

In a heavy-bottomed pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat, then add the sliced onions and salt and reduce the heat to low. The heap of onions will look a bit intimidating, but don't worry, they'll cook down, so don't shed any tears (get it? Onions ... tears? Damn... tough crowd!). As the onions cook down, keep giving them a stir to prevent any heavy browning or burning, as the object is to cook the onions until they are super soft and sweet, and this can take 30 to 45 minutes. When the onions are well softened, add the carrot, ground black pepper, ground cinnamon and ground almonds; stir to mix. Cook a further 3 or 4 minutes, still on low heat, then add the stock, vinegar and honey and stir well. You can turn the heat up to medium and let the soup cook for 25 to 30 minutes (make sure the carrots are tender), stirring occasionally. Some people keep this as a soup (in this case, put a lid onto the pot after you add the stock), with a fair amount of broth, but others cook it down to make it more of a stew (keep the lid off after adding the stock). Add a slice of toasted bread to each bowl, then add the onion soup over the toasted bread. Sprinkle a little grated Pecorino over each bowl, and add a teaspoon or two of Italian extra virgin olive oil.  

* There are various types of Pecorino cheese in Italy, which are made from sheep's milk (a 'pecora' is a sheep in Italian, with 'pecore' being the plural). The most famous Pecorino cheese, and a major favorite of mine, is Pecorino Romano. The Tuscany region has its own type (Pecorino toscano), which is less salty and with a milder flavor than the more famous Pecorino Romano. It is very similar to the famous Parmigiana Reggiano, which is, therefore, a good substitute in this recipe. 

 

I set the slice of bread on top for the first two photos, so that it would be easier to see, but I put the bread into the bowl first, then poured the soup over it in the last photo, which is the traditional way to serve this soup ...

WORD HISTORY:

Puncture-This word is related to quite a number of other words, including to: "punctual," "pungent" and "pugilist," Latin derived words borrowed by English from that language, and to "repugnant," another Latin-derived word, and borrowed from Latin-based French, but with Latin influence (or less likely, but possibly, the other way around). "Puncture" goes back to Indo European "pewg/pewk," which had the notion of "to hit an object," but which had the further meaning "to hit an object with the intent to pierce that object." This gave Latin the verb "pungere" meaning "to pierce, to prick," a participle form of which was "punctus,"^ which gave Latin the noun "punctura" meaning "a piercing, a pricking," and English borrowed this from Latin in the latter part of the 1300s. The verb form developed from the noun, but not until the second half of the 1600s, with the meaning "to pierce something with a pointed object," eventually adding on, "to deflate an object by piercing it."     

  

^ Some etymologists believe "punctus" also had the meaning of "pointed object," and that's certainly possible.

Indian Style Pickled Red Onions

Pickled fruits and vegetables are quite common among the various nationality groups of the Indian Subcontinent, and these "pickled red onions" are a frequent accompaniment to foods there. Chili peppers are also a big part of the food cultures of the Indian Subcontinent, and they are added to pickled onions, but they don't typically add mouth numbing heat to the onions. Red onions are the usual choice for pickling on the Indian Subcontinent, and some people there use small red onions, simply peeled and perhaps with a cut or two into the onion to allow the brine to enter, but larger red onions are also used, and they need to be sliced about a quarter of an inch wide so that the pickling brine can do its work. 

 

 

Ingredients:

  

1 large (baseball size) red onion, peeled

1 to 1 1/2 cups water

2 teaspoons white vinegar

1 to 3 teaspoons sugar (depending upon desired tartness/sweetness)

1 teaspoon salt

8 black peppercorns, cracked (not obliterated)

1 inch piece of grated ginger 

1 to 3 small chilies, slit (or use dried chilies, they will re-hydrate in the brine)

3 to 4 beet slices (not pickled)

Add the water, white vinegar, sugar, salt, cracked peppercorns, grated ginger and chilies to a pan over high heat. Stir to mix the ingredients around, Let the brine come to a boil for 20 to 30 seconds, then turn off the heat. Let the brine sit while you peel the onion and slice it into rounds about 1/4 inch thick, and then halve the rounds. Separate the onion half rings. Put the half rings into a bowl or jar (remember: non reactive), then pour the somewhat cooled brine over the onions. Cover (with a lid for the jar or a plate for a bowl) and let sit about 30 minutes, by which time the mixture should be cooled down and ready to be placed into the refrigerator. Leave the onions in the frig for 12 to 36 hours before serving. It's best to use the pickled onions within a week.  

 

WORD HISTORY:

Crowd-This word goes back to Indo European "greud/grewt," which had the idea of "to press, to push (against)." This gave its Old Germanic offspring "krudanan," with the same meaning, which gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "crudan" meaning "to press or drive forward or against." This then became "cruden," "crouden," "croudyn," before the modern version. The 1300s saw the noun form develop with the meaning, "the act of pressing or driving forward or against," and by the mid 1500s came the meaning "a large number of people closely collected together in the same area (with the density of people implying that they were pressing and shoving against each other)." As time passed, this meaning lost the notion of "pressing and shoving," and it simply took the meaning of "a group of people assembled in a particular area, often for some type of entertainment or common purpose," and this meaning was unique to English, as none of the other Germanic languages developed this exact sense. German once had "kroten" (press), Lowe German once had "kruden" (pressing, pushing, shoving), Dutch once had "kruien/cruien" (pressing, pushing, overrunning), Frisian once had "kruie/krude."

A Bunch of Baloney (Sandwiches)

When I was growing up in the 1950s, "baloney" sandwiches were common, including "fried baloney" sandwiches, which were a bit fancier than regular baloney sandwiches that were made from slices of baloney taken right from the refrigerator, or "icebox," as many people still called it back then. "Bologna" traces back to mortadella sausage from the northern Italian city of Bologna. It "seems" Germans took the Italian idea and made a similar sausage which was brought to America by German immigrants, and then Italian immigrants brought actual mortadella, and these were given "American" touches to become "bologna." By the 1920s and 1930s, sandwiches had become highly popular in the U.S., as they were quick and simple to make and they could be easily transported to jobs in bags or lunch boxes, and a common meat used was "baloney," the more typical Americanized pronunciation of "bologna." It wasn't fancy, but it wasn't expensive either, and that was important to every day American working people, and especially so when these "working people" didn't always have a steady job in the days of the Great Depression in the 1930s. It seems baloney was originally made from pork, but then also came beef, then chicken, then turkey, and even mixtures of meat products.

 

"A bunch of baloney" is a slang expression that means "a bunch of nonsense," and the expression seems to have developed in the 1920s in the U.S., in New York City, likely from the idea of baloney then being made from cheap cuts or remnants of meat, thus being of little worth, with nonsense seen the same way.
 

You can use beef baloney, or baloney made with chicken or turkey, if you don't eat pork.

My "Regular" Baloney Sandwich; totally simple:

2 slices white sandwich bread (you can certainly use whole wheat or multigrain bread)

1/2 to 1 tablespoon butter

2 slices baloney

thick ketchup, with more in reserve, if needed; okay, WHEN needed

Spread one slice of bread with butter. Place the 2 slices of baloney on either slice of bread, squeeze a "good" amount of thick ketchup onto the baloney, then place the other slice of bread on top of the ketchup covered baloney. Keep more ketchup nearby, and dip the sandwich into it before every bite. 

 

 

Is This the Typical Baloney Sandwich? 

 

Is this simple sandwich the "typical" baloney sandwich? There's really no way to prove or disprove it.

 

2 slices white bread

1 or 2 teaspoons mayonnaise

1 or 2 leaves of lettuce

2 or 3 slices of baloney

1 slice of American cheese

Spread one slice bread with mayonnaise, to the other slice of bread, add the lettuce, 2 or 3 slices of baloney and then top with the slice of cheese.

 

Variation: yellow or brown mustard supplements, or replaces, the mayonnaise, or try a good honey mustard on this sandwich (with no mayonnaise). 

"Regular" Fried Baloney Sandwich

 

You can cut slits around the edge of the baloney slices to help prevent curling of the meat when frying. 

 

2 slices white bread

2 to 3 slices baloney

1/2 tablespoon of butter

2 teaspoons mustard (more if you choose to put mustard on both slices of bread), or 2 teaspoons ketchup, or 2 teaspoons mayonnaise

1 pickle on the side, or 3 or 4 pickle slices

 

 

  

 

"Deluxe" Fried Baloney Sandwich

 

2 slices white bread

2 to 3 slices baloney

1/2 tablespoon butter (another 1/2 tablespoon butter, if needed)

1 slice Swiss cheese (or white or yellow American cheese)

1 or 2 slices onion, separated into rings

3 to 5 slices of bread 'n butter pickles (the slices are sometimes referred to as 'chips')

1 tablespoon mayonnaise

(optional) 2 teaspoons mustard or honey mustard

Melt the butter in a skillet over medium heat, add the rings of onion and saute. Move the onion rings to the side of the skillet and add the baloney (add more butter, if needed). Fry the baloney on both sides until lightly browned. Keep mixing the onions around to brown them, as the baloney fries. Add the baloney to one slice of bread, top with the fried onions, then the pickles and then the Swiss cheese. Add mayonnaise to the top slice of bread, or if using mustard, spread the top slice with mustard first, then spread on the mayonnaise and add the bread to the top of the sandwich.

 

 

Fried Mortadella Sandwich

 

Mortadella is Italian bologna; actually, THE original bologna.

Ingredients (per sandwich):

2 slices bread (white, whole wheat or multigrain)

2 or 3 slices of mortadella

1 tablespoon butter + 1 teaspoon olive oil (or other oil of your choice)

1 or 2 slices of American cheese (or you can substitute white or yellow cheddar, or Colby)

2 to 3 teaspoons mayonnaise

1 1/2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

2 or 3 tomato slices (I tend to use Roma tomatoes, which are usually smaller, so 3 slices)

3 or 4 pickle slices (dill or sweet and sour chips)

Spread the Dijon mustard onto one slice of bread, followed by the mayonnaise. Add the tomato slices, then turn to preparing the mortadella. Add the butter and oil to a skillet over low heat (the oil will help keep the butter from browning quickly). Add the mortadella; brown the meat on both sides, then add the cheese on top of the meat for only about 20 to 30 seconds. Put the mortadella/cheese on top of the tomato covered bread slice and then top the meat/cheese with the pickle slices, and cover with the other plain slice of bread. In the photos below, the bottom photo shows building the sandwich, then the second photo shows completing the sandwich. I didn't add the cheese to the mortadella in the skillet so that the meat could be seen. This is a really good sandwich. 

Mustard followed by mayonnaise, then tomato slices, then mortadella

Fried Onion & Garlic Baloney Sandwich

 

2 slices white bread

2 slices baloney

2 to 4 cloves of garlic, sliced or finely chopped

1 green onion, white and green, chopped

1/2 tablespoon butter 

ketchup, mustard or mayonnaise, your preference, or some combo (I used mayo and ketchup in the photos below)

 

Melt the butter in a skillet over medium heat then add the green onion and garlic; saute about one minute, then move the onion and garlic to the side of the skillet and add the baloney slices. Fry on both sides until lightly browned. If the onion and garlic begin getting too dark (especially the garlic, it will become bitter) remove from the skillet until the baloney is done. I put some mayonnaise on the bottom slice of bread, then I add the meat, followed by the green onion and garlic and then some ketchup.

  

  

WORD HISTORY:

Weasel-The ultimate origin of the noun "weasel" is difficult, but it "seems" to go back to Indo European "weys," with the notion "to flow, to melt, to run," and the extended noun form "weselos/wiselos," which was the name for the animal, and this gave Old Germanic "wisulon," which meant the same thing. This gave Old English "weosule" then "wesle," which then became "wesele," before the modern form. Relatives in the other Germanic languages: German has "Wiesel," Low German "Wes(s)el," West Frisian and Dutch "wezel," Icelandic "vesla" (but it also has an unrelated word for the animal), Danish "væsel," Norwegian "vesle/væsel," Swedish "vessla."  

Kenyan Rice & Salad: Pilau and Kachumbari

Kenya is a country in East Africa with a coastline along the Indian Ocean. It has a population of "about" 55 million and its capital city is Nairobi. Swahili and English (British style) are the primary languages used in government, schools and business, but other regional African languages are spoken on an every day basis, along with hybrid forms of English with numerous African dialect influences. Kenya came under British control in the latter part of the 1800s, initially as part of the "East African Protectorate," then later as an outright "colony." This brought a number of immigrants to Kenya from India, itself a British colony at that time. In those times, India included what later became the separate countries of Pakistan and Bangladesh. There are lots of Indian influences in Kenyan food.*

 

I read quite a few recipes about pilau, and several used basmati rice, so that's what I chose to use. 

 

Ingredients (4 servings): 

 

For the pilau:

 

1 cup basmati rice

1 red onion (tennis ball size), peeled and chopped (not finely)

3 garlic cloves, chopped or minced

1/2 cup chopped tomatoes

1 1/2 inch piece of fresh ginger, minced

2 inch cinnamon stick

1 teaspoon ground cumin 

1 teaspoon ground cardamom

2 bay leaves

2 cups chicken stock

2/3 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon salt (if the chicken stock has a lot of salt, you can omit adding this salt)

1/4 cup oil (vegetable or olive)

 

In a heavy bottom pan, add the oil over medium heat. When the oil is hot, add the onion and saute for about 2 to 3 minutes, stir the onion to prevent sticking or burning. Add the chopped or minced garlic and the fresh ginger and saute a further 45 seconds, then add the tomatoes and stir (doesn't have to be totally constant) as the vegetables continue to cook. Add the cinnamon stick, ground cumin, ground cardamom and bay leaves, stir again, then add the rice and stir to mix everything together well, then add the chicken stock, and stir some more. Add the ground black pepper and salt (if using) and let the mixture come to a simmer, then reduce the heat to maintain a bare simmer (stove settings can vary, but likely you'll need "low" or "very low"). Cover the pan and cook for 15 minutes, then remove the lid to see how much liquid remains. Replace the lid and continue cooking until all of the liquid is absorbed. Remove the pan from the heat and ... guess what? Stir to fluff and mix again (remove the bay leaves).  

 

For the kachumbari:

 

2 tomatoes (baseball size), diced

1 red onion (tennis ball to baseball size), chopped

1 medium cucumber, peeled, or partially peeled (like stripes), diced

1 to 2 chili peppers (jalapeños are good for this), seeded and chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped/minced

2 tablespoons lime juice

1/3 cup fresh coriander (also called 'cilantro'), chopped

1/2 to 1 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon salt (more or less to your taste)

(optional) 1 teaspoon honey

(optional) 1 tablespoon vegetable or olive oil

This is mainly about chopping the ingredients; so, when that's done, add the tomatoes, red onion, cucumber, chili pepper, garlic, coriander (cilantro), black pepper and salt to a bowl. Mix everything together (I do it by hand). If you plan to serve the entire salad, then add the lime juice (or mix together the lime juice, honey and oil and then add to the salad), but once you add the juice, if you have leftovers, the salad will begin to lose its "crispness," so I add the juice dressing per serving, not to the whole salad. Also, if you use honey, pop it into the microwave for just a couple of seconds (only) and it will help when you're mixing it with the oil and lime juice. 

I had fried chicken with my pilau and kachumbari (see photos below). Someone told me to simply toss the chicken in seasoned flour and then fry it, which is what I did, but I didn't like it, the feathers were too much for me. So, I plucked the feathers from another chicken and repeated the process, which worked out much better. hahaha  You can serve another type of meat, or just have the pilau and kachumbari as a lunch dish.

* This is an example of Indian influence on Kenyan food: https://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2020/03/kenyan-potato-bites-potato-bhajias.html

 

 

 

WORD HISTORY:

Cricket (2)-This is the name of the sport/game, not the name for the insect, which has a different history. While the history of this word for a game of two teams played with a ball and bats is shaky,^ it likely is closely related to "crutch," and also related to "crook/crooked" and "creep," and these are all words from Germanic, and it is also likely related to "crochet," a word borrowed by English from French, but French had the word from Germanic, more than likely from Frankish, but perhaps from, or reinforced by, Old Norse. The game usage of the word "cricket" goes back to Indo European "ger/grewg," which had the notion "to bend, to turn, to twist," which gave Old Germanic "krukjon," which meant "crooked shaft." This then became "krukjo" in West Germanic with the further meaning of "staff with a crooked handle or arm support," which gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "crycc(e)" meaning, "crutch, bent/curved staff." Now, this developed into modern "crutch," but its Flemish^^ cousin "krik" (bent staff, curved stick) "seems" to lie at the heart of the usage of the word "cricket," the game; at least the game that has been known by that name in England/Britain, although there may have been similar versions of the modern game long ago.^^^ "Supposedly" the word "krikets" developed in southeastern England from the Flemish word (there were quite a number of immigrants from Flanders there in the 1500s through the 1700s, many associated with cloth and weaving), and this was then anglicized as "cricket." The mid 1800s saw the secondary meaning develop in England of "the proper way to do things," likely from the notion of "play the game of cricket properly," although this meaning is often put into the negative for something being done unfairly as, "that's not cricket" ("that's not fair or proper").

 

^ Unraveling the shaky history of the word "cricket" is somewhat equivalent to unraveling the shaky history of the game itself, which "may" have come from various similar games that eventually produced the immediate forerunner of the modern game, but to which the name came to be applied. When I say the history of the word "cricket" is "shaky," I really mean the specifics are tough to determine, although the broad history of the word seems clear.  

 

^^ Flemish is the dialect of Dutch spoken in the Flanders part of Belgium. In times long past, Flemish was seen as its own language by some, but in more recent times it has been viewed as a regional dialect of Dutch. I watch numerous language programs, and I have noticed that Belgians from Flanders now often say they speak Dutch, although I'm sure there are some who still say they speak Flemish (Vlaams). Dutch, including the Flemish dialect, and many of the nearby German dialects (that western part of Germany, Luxembourg and Lorraine) all developed from Frankish, the Germanic language (dialect) of the Franks. 

 

^^^ Seemingly in the 1600s and up until the early second half of the 1700s, the ball was rolled along the ground (bowled) and batted with bent/curved sticks like modern hockey sticks, but in the second half of the 1700s the ball was thrown (pitched), leading to the abandonment of the curved stick in favor of a straight bat. 

Indian Onion Chutney

This is a common chutney with only minor variations in recipes from what I've found. Good served as a side to Indian meals or just along with Indian breads. 

Ingredients (quite a number of servings of varying size):

2 large white or yellow onions, peeled and chopped
3 tablespoons freshly ground black pepper
1 heaping tablespoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon salt
1 can (6 ounces) tomato paste
juice of 3 limes
1 tablespoon sugar (more if you don't like tartness)
1/2 to 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper or other ground red pepper (per your heat level)
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro

Add the pepper, cumin, salt, tomato paste, lime juice, sugar and red pepper to a bowl and mix well. Add the chopped onion and cilantro and keep folding until the onion is coated with the mixture. Cover and refrigerate the chutney for at least a couple of hours before serving.

WORD HISTORY:
Crag-Certainly not an every day word in English, the history of "crag" is shaky in spots, but it is related, through Indo European, to "hard," a word from the Germanic roots of English. It goes back to Indo European "khert/khart," variant of "k(h)rat," which had the meaning "strong, firm, powerful," which produced some unknown form in its Old Celtic offspring, which then gave the Celtic languages a number of words quite similar in pronunciation and meaning: Welsh "craig," Breton "krag," Manx "creg," Irish "carraig," all with the meaning of "rock," the "basic" meaning of the word in English, but more especially, "a rock protruding from a cliff, often by the seashore." English borrowed the word from one or more of the sources noted above, although Welsh would be a good candidate, in the early 1200s, initially in reference to places. Several such "protruding rocks" brought English to develop "craggy," the adjectival form for "rough and rocky," which came to be used for inland areas, as well as those near the sea.    

French Pizza of Nice: Pissaladière

"Pissaladière" is a type of pizza that is a part of the cuisine of the city of Nice in southern France. The name is derived from French "peis salat," meaning, "salted fish;" thus, the anchovies in the recipe. Even if you don't like anchovies, you can give this pizza a try by simply adding a couple of anchovy fillets to the cooking onions, where the salty little fish will disintegrate into the onions, but they will not have the strong taste many people associate with anchovies used on salads or on some Italian-style pizza. "Pissaladière" seems to have been borrowed from the Liguria region of Italy, which is also known to some as "the Italian Riviera." The Italians used salted fish for their pizza, but later many recipes added tomatoes. Tomatoes came from the New World and Europeans at first thought they were poisonous, but once that idea was dispelled, tomatoes became a part of various European cuisines, and a major ingredient in Italian cuisine.

The easiest way to make Pissaladière is to simply buy some prepared bread/pizza dough, but if you prefer your own bread dough, go for it! I've read where some cooks now even use pie dough for Pissaladière. I bought black olives in olive oil, then pitted them myself, but you can certainly use green olives or a mixture of both black and green olives. I made a 10 inch round Pissaladière; so, the amounts below are for that size pizza, but you can use a pizza pan or a baking sheet of any size and then adjust the other ingredients accordingly. Good served with a glass of white wine. 

Ingredients:

bread dough (or you can use pie dough)
1 1/2 large onions, halved, then thinly sliced
1/2 teaspoon sugar
black olives in olive oil, pitted (amount to your preference)
4 anchovy fillets  + more for garnish (optional)
1 to 2 tablespoons olive oil
1 sprig fresh thyme or 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme

I used a round 10 inch dish for this. If you buy frozen dough, be sure it is well thawed and brought to room temperature. I use a little olive oil to coat the dish or pan. Use enough dough to create a somewhat "thin," but not a "super thin" crust. You also don't want the dough to puff up the size of a loaf of bread (remember, pizza/bread dough will have yeast or a leavening agent and will "puff up" to some degree). In a skillet, heat the oil over medium heat. Saute the onions until they soften, then add the anchovy fillets and sprinkle the sugar over the onions and mix it in. Lower the heat and let the anchovies dissolve into the onions, stirring occasionally. Let the onion mixture cook until the onions caramelize, stirring occasionally to prevent the onions from burning. During this process, add the thyme to the onions. Spread the onions over the dough, leaving a small edge around the dough. Place some olives on top of the onions and optionally, you can also add some anchovy fillets (whole or chopped). Bake at 400 F for about 30 to 40 minutes, until the crust edge is lightly browned.      

WORD HISTORY:
Jewel-The origin of this word is shaky, but it seems to be distantly related to "joke," a Latin derived word borrowed by English. It "seems" to go back to Indo European "yek," which meant, "to speak, to utter." This gave its Italic offspring "joko/ioko," meaning, "something said, an utterance," but also, "something said in jest." This gave Latin "iocus," meaning, "a joke, amusing entertainment," further, the broader, "that which brings happiness or rejoicing." This gave Latin the noun "jocale," meaning, "object that brings joy;" thus also, "decoration, adornment;" thus, "jewel, gemstone." This passed into Latin-based Old French as "jouel," meaning, "jewel, gemstone." Carried to England by the Normans as "juel," and then borrowed by English about 1300.  

Bratwurst with Onions and Paprika

I tend to like paprika a lot and this uses the smoky flavored Spanish paprika. This is my version of a similar German recipe. You can use fresh bratwursts or the precooked type commonly sold in supermarkets.

Ingredients:

4 bratwursts
2 red onions, cut into rings or chopped
1 cup chopped mild red pepper
1 heaping tablespoon mild Spanish paprika
1 teaspoon hot Spanish paprika
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 cup beef broth
2 tablespoons oil
(optional) salt (how much salt does the broth have?) 

Brown the bratwursts in 1 tablespoon of oil (they don't have to cook through, as they will cook more in a few minutes). Braise the onion rings and the chopped red pepper in the other tablespoon of oil over low heat, until softened, but not heavily browned. Add the mild and hot paprika, the tomato paste, the sugar and the beef broth. Mix well and cook until the tomato paste is dissolved into the mixture, then add the bratwursts and cook until the brats are cooked through. Good served with mashed potatoes.

WORD HISTORY: 
Lick-This word is somewhat distantly related to "lecher," a word borrowed by English from French, and which French got from Germanic Frankish.^ "Lick" goes back to Indo European "leygh," which meant, "to lick." This gave its Old Germanic offspring "likkon(an)," with the same meaning. This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "liccian," which then became "likken/licken," before the modern form. Old English had the noun "liccung," which meant, "licking" (more precisely, "take in a small amount of food or drink"), and "licking" became the form in circa 1400, but it wasn't until the early 1600s that shortened form "lick" became more common. The modern verb and noun have a number of meanings, but the meaning, "to beat/defeat," is somewhat puzzling, although it "may" come from the notion of "beating with a whip," as the end of a whip is like a tongue, and that meaning may have then broadened into "beat or defeat," which is more or less what happened with the word "beat," meaning, "strike someone or something, usually repeatedly," but which eventually took the meaning, "to defeat in battle," then also, "defeat in competition." A famous slogan for Timex watches was when they would perform some rough treatment of a Timex watch, then show that it was still running, and then ad the slogan, "It takes a licking, but it keeps on ticking." Relatives in the other Germanic languages: German has "lecken" (to lick, and German "lecker" means, "delicious;" that is, "that which makes one lick their lips, that which is worth licking"), Low German "licken," Dutch "likken," West Frisian once had "likja/likje," but I could not find a modern form. The Brothers Grimm note that a form of ''lick'' is "missing from the Scandinavian language area" (that is, North Germanic), but why is unclear, although these languages use what seems to be a prefixed form (with "s") of "lick," as does modern West Frisian. A form of this prefixed word is missing from English, as far as I can tell, which "may" indicate that it developed after Anglo-Saxon was established in England.  

^ Provençal, the language of Provence (southeastern France), had "liquar/lichar," and Italian has "leccare," perhaps both of which were borrowed from French (?), although the Italian form could have been borrowed directly from German. 

Bangers & Mash with Onion Gravy

 Updated with gravy recipe and one new photo 4/5/22

 

This is a common dish in England and other parts of the United Kingdom. It seems the name "bangers" came to be used as a slang term for sausages in the World War One era in Britain, as meat shortages led to the use of more water and other fillers (grains or bread) in the production of sausages. When fried or grilled, the sausages would often burst with a "bang." Some people prick the sausages with a fork or a knife to prevent them from bursting, while to people with a more traditionalist side, such a thing is heresy. Besides "Bangers and Mash," there are some interesting names for food in British English, with "Bubble and Squeak" being another,* as well as, "Toad in the Hole."** I dare say, few Americans would know what these names mean in more recent times, especially as there aren't many men and women still around from the days when they may have been stationed in Britain during World War Two and they likely heard these names used.   

 

 

This is not really a recipe, as such, but rather the serving of three distinct parts, each of which can be readily obtained in prepared forms in supermarkets: mashed potatoes available in refrigerated sections, gravy available in jars or cans, and sausages available in already cooked form in refrigerated sections, sometimes in packages, but sometimes available at a per sausage price in deli sections or at butcher shops. In this case, you would simply need to heat the sausages, chop some onion and saute it until it's softened and browned at least somewhat, add the gravy to the onions and heat it through, heat the mashed potatoes according to the package instructions and you're ready to eat. Of course you can make your own mashed potatoes the way you like them, make your own onion gravy, and you can buy uncooked sausages, unless you like making sausages and stuffing them into natural casings.

My suggestion for 4 servings is that you buy uncooked or precooked sausages. You can use whatever kind of sausage you like, but pork sausage is traditional. In a skillet, heat about a tablespoon of oil and fry 4 sausages over low heat. Cook them until they are well heated through (especially if using uncooked sausages) and lightly browned (they will be reheated again, read on). Remove the sausages to a plate and add 2 chopped or sliced onions to the skillet. You can up the heat to medium. Cook the onions until softened, but it is nice to have the onions browned a bit for more flavor. Stir pork gravy mix into 2 cups of water (or follow the gravy mix instructions on the package). Add the gravy to the onions and mix well. Bring the onion gravy to a simmer, add the sausages to the gravy, and take the heat back to low. In the meantime, if making your own mashed potatoes, peel and dice some potatoes, put them into a pan, add a sprinkle of salt and cover with water. Bring to a boil and cook the potatoes until softened, but not mushy. Drain the potatoes WELL, add some butter and mash the potatoes a little with a fork, potato masher or the beaters of an electric mixer (it doesn't have to be turned on, at this point). Microwave some milk until it is just warm (I use canned milk), then add it a little at a time to the potatoes as you mash them well (if using a mixer, now you need to have it on). Keep control of how much milk you add to prevent the potatoes from being runny. Add and mix in salt to taste, and pepper, if desired.  


Ingredients (4 servings):

4 sausages (pork or beef)
1 tablespoon oil 
2 pounds potatoes, peeled and diced (can be large dice)
5 tablespoons butter
"about" 4 to 6 ounces canned (evaporated) milk
salt to taste
(optional) black pepper to taste
2 chopped or sliced onions
2 cups water with gravy mix, or store bought prepared gravy***

* "Bubble and Squeak" originated in the 1800s in England as a way to use leftover meat and vegetables, which were cooked with mashed potatoes, causing a "squeaking" sound as it was cooking. In more recent times, while leftovers are still often used, the dish is also made fresh.

** "Toad in the Hole" is a dish of sausages in a Yorkshire Pudding dough. Here is the link to the article about "Toad in the Hole:" https://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2021/02/english-toad-in-hole-sausages-in-pudding.html

*** I did the above article to keep things simple and relatively quick, but if you don't mind taking your time, this is a good recipe for onion gravy; so if you try it, you won't need the gravy mix and procedure mentioned above, but to be quite honest, it is very much dependent upon using good beef stock, and I'm not saying that you necessarily need to make the stock yourself, as there are some decent store bought brands. To be blunt though, if you're just going to use soup base, you just as well stick with the gravy mix in the main article.

Ingredients: 

 

1 tablespoon vegetable oil 

3 tablespoons butter

1 cup chopped onion

2 1/2 tablespoons flour

1 1/2 cups beef stock

1 1/2 tablespoons thick ketchup

1 1/2 tablespoons Worcestershire

1/2 to 1 teaspoon ground black pepper, according to preference

Add the oil and butter to a pan over medium heat, add the onions and cook, stirring often, but no need to stir continuously, until the onions soften, about 5 to 6 minutes. Sprinkle the flour over the onions and stir it in, reduce the heat slightly and continue to cook for about 2 minutes, to remove the raw flour taste. Add the stock, ketchup, Worcestershire and black pepper and bring the gravy to a steady simmer; turn the heat to low and simmer the gravy until thickened to your preference (about 3 to 5 minutes). 

 

 

WORD HISTORY: 
Shire-This word goes back to Indo European "sker," which meant, "to cut, to scrape," and it is distantly related to "scribe" and to "scribble," both of Latin derivation and borrowed by English, and more closely related to "shear," a word that goes back to the Germanic roots of English, and it is the first part of the compound "sheriff," initially "an official of a shire, now of a county." The Indo European form gave Old Germanic or West Germanic "skiro," which meant, "a division of land under a particular authority;" that is, "land cut up into areas of authority." This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "scir," with the same general meaning. The spelling later changed to "shire," but its use for an official land division was replaced in England by "county," a word taken from French, as it was eventually established in England by the Normans, circa 1300. The word "shire," however, has lived on into the present in geographic names and it was even taken to the New World, as in "New Hampshire." German had "scira," with a similar meaning to its English cousin's original meaning, but unlike English, the German word has now died out, "apparently" as it has in other Germanic languages. Just a question: did the move of some Germanic dialects from the continental mainland to Briton as Anglo-Saxon (Old English) save the word "shire" from extinction?    

German Onion Tart: Zwiebelkuchen

"Zwiebelkuchen" literally means, "onion cake," but in reality it is more of an "onion tart," or an "onion pie." The standard German word for the dish is the compound word "Zwiebelkuchen," and the dish is known as part of several regional cuisines in German speaking areas; and therefore, it is known by a number of dialect names: "Zwiwwelkuche" in Pfälzisch,* "Zwiwwlwähe" and "Zwiebelwäje" in the Alemannic German dialects of Switzerland,** but "Zwiwwelkuech" in the Alemannic German  dialect of Alsace, "Zwiwlwähe" in Swabian Alemannic dialect (very generally the Stuttgart area), and in the Frankish dialect of the Nuremberg area it is known as "Zwiebelplootz," and there are likely more regional names. Just as there are a number of names for this dish, so are there some variations in recipes, with some people using yeast risen dough, like bread or pizza dough, and others using a "short crust" pie dough (in German: Mürbeteig), and still others using store bought puff pastry. I have used both pie dough and bread dough when I've made this, and for this article I used pie dough. I've seen it mentioned by some that originally bread dough was used. Some bake the dish on square baking sheets, while others use round cake or pie pans. Some people add some shredded Swiss cheese ("Emmentaler") or Gruyère to the top.

"Zwiebelkuchen," a type of quiche (see Word History, below), has long been associated with the fall (autumn) time of the year, when "new wine" (German: "neuer Wein"); that is, not totally fermented wine, is sold in many wine bars and restaurants in wine producing areas. As with so many food products and recipes in German areas, there are a number of regional names for "new wine;" hey, you didn't think the Germans would make this easy, did you? One of the common names is "Federweißer," literally, "feather white," but why this term is used is not really understood; although perhaps because of young birds having white or off white feathers? The wine is murky; thus, not really the clear light color of white wine after it matures. Believe me though, there are several other terms used for new wine. Now you don't have to just make this tart in the fall of the year, although you may be penalized by Germans for breaking with tradition by being forced to repeatedly attempt to pronounce  the word "Streichholzschächtelchen" until you get it right. ***

To save yourself time and work, use store bought pie crust, frozen puff pastry or pizza dough. In times now "generally" past, lard was often used in the preparation of "Zwiebelkuchen," in both the dough and in the filling, but many now replace the lard with butter or oil. The recipe here is just a sort of guideline, as the quantity of ingredients will depend upon the dish you use to make "Zwiebelkuchen." I used a 10 inch pie dish (Pyrex/glass). 

Ingredients:

pie dough or puff pastry
2 tablespoons butter (divided use, or you can substitute olive oil) 
2 baseball size onions, chopped
1/2 pound thick sliced bacon, chopped or diced)
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 cup heavy cream (or you can substitute reduced fat sour cream)
1/2 cup evaporated milk (canned milk)
1/4 cup dry white wine
3 eggs
2/3 teaspoon black pepper
(optional) 1/2 teaspoon salt 
(optional for garnish) chopped green onions (scallions)

Heat oven to 400 F. Use 1 tablespoon butter (or olive oil) to grease the pan or baking sheet you will use. Then line the pan with dough. In a skillet over medium heat, melt the butter (or you can use 1 tablespoon oil) and add the bacon. Cook the bacon until much of the fat is rendered, but remember, the bacon will be baked, so you don't want to cook it too much in the skillet. Remove the bacon to some paper towels, then pour off all but about 2 tablespoons of the melted bacon fat from the skillet. Add the onions and cook over low heat until the mass of onions starts to cook down, then add the wine, caraway seed and nutmeg, and stir to mix well. Cook until the onions are softened and remove from the heat. Then if using pie dough, let the onions cool down just a little. Put the onions into the dough lined dish and spread them out evenly. Sprinkle the bacon pieces over the onions. Put the dish into the oven and let it bake until the edge of the dough "begins" to set. While that is going on, mix together the cream, milk, eggs, black pepper and salt too, if using (mix well). Remove the dish from the oven and pour the cream mixture over the onions and bacon. Try to get it over all parts of the dish. Put dish back into the oven and bake until the top is well set and a little browned (the one I made for this article took about 25 minutes). Remove from the oven and let cool for just a little time before slicing. Serve it warm, or it can also be served chilled. I like it with some fresh chopped scallions on top and many Germans serve it that way, too. 

* "Pfälzisch" (=Palatinate dialect, spoken in the Palatinate and in the Rhineland-Palatinate) is a dialect of German derived from Frankish, as are the nearby German dialects Hessisch (Hessian), Lothringisch (Lorraine German) and "Lëtzebuergesch" (Luxembourgish). Other German dialects are also derived from forms of Frankish, as is Dutch, the language of the Netherlands, and the Dutch dialect of Flemish, spoken by about 60% of the population of Belgium.

** The Alemannic German dialects are spoken in southwestern Germany, Switzerland, Alsace, Liechtenstein and far western Austria.   

*** While all languages have compound words, German is famous (infamous?) for compounding compounds into gigantic words that send fear into the hearts of those seeing or hearing them. They really are not as fearsome as they appear, as you just need to break them down. "Streichholzschächtelchen" means, "little matchbox," from the verb "streichen" (close relative of the  English verb "(to) strike," and with the same meaning in German), the noun "Holz" (close relative of generally now antiquated English "holt," meaning "forest, woods, timberland," which in German simply came to mean "wood," the material from trees), the noun "Schachtel," a word borrowed by German from Italian with alterations in Austro-Bavarian German dialect, and meaning "box," and the suffix "-chen," a diminutive, which means it makes a word's meaning seem "smaller" or "endearing" (a close relative of English forms -kin, -ken, -chen). So if Germans try to penalize you by making you try to pronounce "Streichholzschächtelchen," you needn't panic, it's like, "strike-hills-shuttle-chin"... ah, "stripe-held-snipple-chen" ... ah, "stray-help-shacktel-chun," ah... oh the hell with it! You're in trouble!

WORD HISTORY:
Quiche-This word is related to "cake." It goes back to Indo European "ghag/ghog," which simply had the notion of "a spherical object, a clump." Its Old Germanic offspring was "kokon," which by then meant "clump, or small round loaf of bread." It was not until the 1400s and 1500s that "cake" was more commonly used for the sweetened form of bread we think of today. The Germanic form gave Old High German "kuohho," which seems to have meant, "round bread loaf, clump of cooked mush." This then became "kuoche," before the modern German form "Kuchen" (meaning "cake") which was "Küeche/Küche" in "Lothringisch" dialect (Lorraine Frankish German dialect). This was borrowed by French in about 1800 (?) as "quiche," and English borrowed the word in the mid 1900s.^

^ For "cake," the English relative of "quiche" and of German "Kuchen," this is the link to the article with that "Word History": http://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2012/09/its-none-of-your-pancake-business.html 

Beef & French Onion Sauce

The key to this dish is to get the onions nicely browned and caramelized, as this will give the sauce a great taste. You can cook the steaks as rare, or as well done, as you'd like.

Serve with toasted slices of French baguette 

Ingredients:

4 beef tenderloin steaks, 4 ounces each
2 large onions, thinly sliced
1 bay leaf
2 cups sliced cremini mushrooms 
1 cup beef stock
1/3 cup white wine
1 heaping teaspoon dried thyme
2 tablespoons butter (divided use)
2 tablespoons oil (olive, vegetable or canola)
1 to 2 tablespoons flour
1 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper (divided use)
1/2 to 1 teaspoon salt, to taste (if the beef stock is salty, you can certainly cut down of the amount of salt)
1/3 cup shredded Swiss cheese

Heat a large heavy bottomed skillet or pan over medium heat. Add 2 tablespoons oil, then add the sliced onions. Toss the onions in the oil and let them cook until they soften and begin to brown. Sprinkle the sugar over the onions, stir and continue to cook the onions until they are browned and sweetened by caramelization. Add one tablespoon of butter and the mushrooms. Add the thyme and sprinkle the flour over the onion and mushroom mixture, then stir to mix. Add the bay leaf and 1/4 teaspoon black pepper. Gradually stir in the beef stock and then the white wine. Turn the heat to low and let the mixture simmer and thicken a little. Meanwhile, in a large skillet, melt 1 tablespoon butter over medium heat (you can always add more butter or even oil, if needed). Season the steaks on both sides with salt and pepper. Add steaks to the skillet and cook about 3 to 6 minutes per side, depending on how well done you want each steak, then add each steak to the simmering sauce, and turn off the heat (remove the bay leaf). Toast some slices of good bread (baguettes are good for this) and place a steak and some sauce on serving plates, followed with a piece of toast on top of each steak, and sprinkle a little shredded cheese over the toast, followed by a little of the sauce on the cheese.  

WORD HISTORY:
Loin-This word is related to "lumbar" and to "lumbago," both of which are Latin-derived words borrowed by English. "Loin" goes back to Indo European "lendh," which meant, "area of the waist, loin, kidney." This gave its Old Germanic offspring "lendi," with the same meanings. This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "lenden," meaning, "loin" ("lendenu"=plural, "loins"), and this then became "lende." Latin had "lumbus" (loin, hip), but it is unclear if this came from a form of Latin's immediate ancestor "Italic," with that form presumed to have been "londwos," or whether Latin may have rendered their own form from another language group, with Germanic being a prime possibility. Old French, a Latin-based language, had the word passed on as "loigne/lombes," ("loin, hip, lower back, lower torso/loins"). English borrowed the word, initially as "loyne/loine," and it overtook the native word, "lende," as the main word, although "lende" became "lend" (nothing to do with the more common word of that spelling), and it remains as a dialect word in parts of England and Scotland. Its Germanic relatives are German "Lende/Lenden" (loin/loins), Low German "Lenn/Lennen" (body area around the hip/hips), Dutch "lende/lenden" (loin, lower back/loins), Swedish "länd/länder" (lower back/loins), Icelandic "lendir" (loins), Danish "lænd(e)/lænder" (loin/loins), Norwegian "lend" (loins).       

Chicken Fried Steak with Brown Mushroom & Onion Gravy

This dish "seems" to have developed in Texas as a variant of German Schnitzel brought to the United States by German immigrants, a great number of whom settled in Texas in the 1800s. Schnitzel was often made with pork, but this Texas version was made with beef. Hey, this was Texas, mooooo! The name came from the fact that the beef was coated like fried chicken. Typically the dish is served with white pepper gravy/sauce, but brown gravy is used by some and I've used brown mushroom and onion gravy. The dish eventually spread from Texas to other parts of the U.S., where it was often found in diners in small towns and in little mom and pop eateries along rural stretches of America's highways where it might also be offered as "country fried steak." Mashed potatoes are the common accompaniment for this great dish, but you might see home fries offered in some restaurants, and that's something you might want to try at some point.  

Ingredients (4 servings):

4 cube steaks
1 teaspoon black pepper (divided use)
1 1/2 teaspoons celery salt (divided use)
2/3 to 1 cup buttermilk
1 cup flour (more if needed)
oil for frying (1/4 to 1/2 cup)

Gravy:

1 1/2 cups mushrooms, chopped (use whatever type you have on hand or like, or mix more than one type)
2/3 cup onion, chopped
1 1/2 cups beef broth
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 tablespoons ketchup
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon rubbed sage
1 teaspoon sugar
2 tablespoons butter
5 tablespoons flour
1/2 teaspoon white or black pepper
1 tablespoon oil

Heat 1/4 to 1/2 cup oil (canola, vegetable or olive) in a skillet (cast iron is good for this) over medium high heat. It is important to have the oil hot before frying the steaks. Use 1/4 teaspoon black pepper and 1/2 teaspoon celery salt to season both sides of each cube steak. Mix the remaining celery salt and black pepper with the flour on a plate. Pour the buttermilk into a shallow dish. Dip the seasoned cube steaks into the buttermilk, then into the flour. Fry the steaks (likely two at a time) in the hot oil until they are browned on both sides ("about" 4 to 5 minutes per side). For the gravy: over medium heat, add the oil to a sauce pan. Add the chopped onion and sauté for a couple of minutes, then add the mushrooms and butter, stirring to mix and to help the butter to melt. Sprinkle the flour over the mixture and mix it in well, cook for another minute. Gradually add about a third of the beef broth, stirring constantly. Scrape up any bits on the bottom of the pan. Add the Worcestershire sauce, the ketchup, the dried thyme (I put the thyme in the palm of my hand and then crush it with the thumb of my other hand. It might be my imagination, but I think it helps to release more flavor), the rubbed sage, the sugar and the pepper; stir well, then gradually add the rest of the broth, as you stir the gravy further until it thickens.
 
With mashed potatoes and carrots....

WORD HISTORY:
Gravy-This word, related to "grain," a Latin-derived word borrowed by English, goes back to Indo European "ger," which had the notion, "to wear down;" thus also, "to grow older, to mature." This produced Indo European "gerhanom," which meant, "grain;" that is, "the matured part of a plant." This gave Latin "granum," also meaning, "grain, seed." This was passed to Latin-based French as "grain," with the same meaning, and also importantly, the idea of "grains or seeds of spice to season food." This produced French "grané," meaning, "grained (that is, 'spiced') stew," but as the term was passed along in writing, the "n" was mistaken for a "u," the Latin character for "v" in those times, so that the result became "grave." This was borrowed by English "gravey/gravy" in the 1300s, by which time it had come to mean, "seasoned, thickened sauce from meat juices."      

Berlin Style Liver (Leber Nach Berliner Art)

This is a pretty well known dish from Berlin, although it is certainly served outside of Berlin, just as Wiener Schnitzel is served outside of Vienna (Wien in German). It is usually made with calves liver, but you can use beef or pork liver and Bismarck's ghost won't get you with his spiked helmet.

"Yeeeooow! What the hell? Medic! I'll have to finish typing this while I'm standing up."

Anyway, it is not uncommon to find Berlin style liver in German-American restaurants. In Berlin it is commonly served with mashed potatoes, but you can serve whatever you like and Bismarck's ghost ... well, never mind about Bismarck's ghost. I'm not going through that again.

Ingredients (about 4 servings):

1 1/2 pounds liver, sliced, but not too thickly
2 baseball size onions, peeled and sliced into 1/3 inch rounds (you can use white, yellow or red onions)
2 apples (like red delicious or golden delicious), typically peeled, but I leave the skin on, cored then cut into round slices 1/3 to 1/2 inch thick
4 or 5 tablespoons flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 teaspoon ground white or black pepper
butter/canola oil mix (about 3 or 4 tablespoons butter and the same amount of oil)

Heat 2 tablespoons each of butter and oil in a skillet over low heat. Dust the liver slices with flour and set aside. Add the onion slices to the pan and saute until lightly browned (the slices will naturally come apart). Remove the onions to a dish and keep them warm. Add the apple slices to the pan and cook until they too are somewhat browned, remove and keep warm. Add more butter and oil to the skillet, then add the liver slices. Brown on both sides and cook until they are just cooked through. Season the cooked liver with salt and pepper after removing it from the heat. Serve with mashed potatoes and with some onion and apple rings next to the liver.

WORD HISTORY:
Stroll-The history of this word is a bit uncertain, although it looks pretty logical to me. It was borrowed by English in the very early 1600s from German, which had "Strolch," a word from Alemannic German dialect^ which meant, "a vagabond, a rogue, a mischievous boy." This seems to have developed from Alemannic dialect "strollen," which meant, "to wander around aimlessly" (Alemannic also had the noun "Stroll," meaning "vagabond"). While not a complete certainty, these German forms seem to have developed as an abbreviated form of Italian "astrologo," which meant "astrologer, stargazer;" thus also, "interpreter of the stars and their relationship to events, a prophet," and which passed into Lombardic, the language of the Germanic Lombards who settled in northern Italy (the region of Lombardia is named for them), as "strolegh," which then became "strolago," and meant, "vagabond, traveling entertainer who uses tricks to deceive his audience." This seems to have passed into Alemannic in the 1400s from Swiss (German) and Swabian mercenary soldiers serving in northern Italy.

^  Alemannic is a group of German dialects tracing back to the Germanic tribe the Alemanni. Alemannic is pretty much concentrated in the southwestern area of the German-speaking area and includes Switzerland, extreme western Austria, Liechtenstein, Alsace in eastern France and southwestern Germany, including a part of Bavaria. Alemannic is the general name for the dialect, but it breaks down further into numerous regional and local dialects. Not all Alemannic speakers can necessarily understand one another.

Soup's On, Rhineland Onion Soup

There's nothing like some soup to warm ourselves from the bone chilling cold of winter or the chilly dampness of spring. I once had a German-style deli and one of the soups we served was this one from the Rhineland in Germany, "Rheinische Zwiebelsuppe," or "Rhenish Onion Soup." "Rhenish" is not a word used or understood by everyone, so my partner and I listed it as "Rhineland Onion Soup," and it was very popular. I dug out my recipe the other day, which I jotted down in pencil on a piece of paper about the size of an index card years ago in the early part of the 1980s. It's still intact. Hey, I don't throw things away. Hold on while I move my baby shoes out of the way so I can continue. It's really relatively easy to make.

Ingredients:

6 or 7 white or yellow onions (tennis ball size), coarsely chopped
2 medium potatoes, diced
48 ounces of beef stock (and from a carton is fine, but remember the salt in most brands)
2 bay leaves
3 or 4 sausages (see below)
salt to taste (if you use stock with high salt content, you may not need to add salt at all)
1 tablespoon black pepper
1 heaping tablespoon chopped parsley
1-2 tablespoons of cider vinegar
3 tablespoons of oil, butter, or lard (see below)

Germans most often use "Mettwurst" for the sausage content. Mettwurst (literally "chopped meat sausage," and yes, the "mett" part is closely related to English "meat") means different things depending upon region. In south German-speaking areas it is a soft, spreadable sausage, sometimes made from coarsely ground, sometimes finely ground, raw pork, which is cured or smoked to preserve it. Other ingredients vary by region. In the north, the sausage is made similarly, but it is cured (sometimes smoked) for long periods which make it firm like salami. I grew up eating this firm type of Mettwurst and I can't even hear the word without thinking of my grandfather, who loved it, and all of the neighborhood grocers and butcher shops sold it (it was an old German neighborhood). Now, having written all of this, since I sold bratwurst at my deli, that is what I used in the onion soup. These were bratwursts that were already cooked and only needed to be heated through late in the cooking process for the soup, and they should be sliced into bite-sized pieces. I used non smoked bratwurst, as smoked meat naturally alters the flavor, but I'm sure you won't end up in the penitentiary if you use smoked style sausage.   

Chop the onions while playing a rendition of "Cry Me A River," and the chopped onions will look like a mountain, but they should be cooked until somewhat softened (not totally, they will cook more with the other ingredients) in some oil, like canola or sunflower oil, which has little flavor, and the onions will cook down a bit. Traditionally, Germans used lard, but in modern times oil or butter can be used, or a combination of oil and butter, which is what I use. Once the onions are somewhat softened, add the potatoes, bay leaves, salt (if needed), pepper and beef stock. The soup should be covered and simmered, not boiled, periodically stirred, and cooked until the potatoes are about done, when the sausage should be added. A few minutes later add the parsley and vinegar. I indicated 1 to 2 tablespoons of vinegar, but you might try one at first, as you don't want the vinegar to overwhelm the flavor or make it too sour; it should be more subtle and the rich broth should be more dominant.

I had knockwurst available, so that's what I used for the sausage part of the recipe for this photo.

WORD HISTORY:
Onion-The ultimate origin of this word is uncertain, but it traces back to Latin "unio," and the derived "unionem," the meaning of which was "onion," seemingly from its other meaning, "pearl." This was inherited by Old French, a Latin-based language, as "oignon," which then was carried to England by the Normans where it became "union," in the French dialect that developed there. Old English already had a form of this same word, borrowed from Latin as "ynneleac," which meant "onion" (the "leac" part is the ancestor of modern "leek," the vegetable that looks something like a large green onion), which died out; the word that is, not the plant.^ The Norman form then entered English where it became "oinyon," before the modern version. Old English also borrowed "cipa" from Latin "cepa," which was another word for "onion." It is closely related to the German word for the same, "Zwiebel," which likewise was borrowed from the Latin, possibly from monastery sources. By the way, in German Oberhessisch (Upper Hessian) dialect the word is "Zwiwel."^^

^ For the history of the word "leek," here is the link to my article containing that history:  http://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2014/11/flemish-beef-and-beer-stew.html

^^ Oberhessisch is also known to some as "Mittelhessisch."