Plum Cake: Quetschekuchen

There are all sorts of names for plum cake in German: Pflaumenkuchen is more common in northern Germany, while in Bavaria and Austria it is Zwetschgendatschi/Zwetschkendatschi, " but in Hessen and part of the Rheinland "Quetschekuche(n)" is the name, and in some other areas the word used is "Zwetschgenkuchen," and in Switzerland it is "Zwetschenwähe."  

Some Germans make plum cake with baking powder, some make it with yeast, and I've actually read where some use only eggs to provide some lift. German regions in Europe tend to use Italian plums or damson plums, both of which are "egg shaped," but I'm sure Germans won't hang you out to dry if you use other varieties of plums. "Hey, was machen Sie? Sie brauchen noch ein paar Wäscheklammern mehr!" (Hey, what are you doing? You still need a few more clothes pins!) Further, many Germans add "streusel" on top of the plum cake before baking.* Also, some use a round baking pan or dish for plum cake, while others use a rectangular baking sheet (German: Backblech, or just Blech). Plum cake is often served with whipped cream or powdered sugar on top.

I had "Quetschekuchen" many years ago in Frankfurt, Germany, and I'll tell you about it, once I get these damned clothes pins off of me! Anyway, the bakery and pastry shops (called a "Bäckerei und Konditorei," in German) in Frankfurt just wouldn't leave me alone. All of the great window displays kept beckoning to me, "Randy.... look over here!" It was all too much and I bought a "Quetschekuche" (in Frankfurt they usually do not include the ending "n" in "Kuchen") and it was delicious.     

Ingredients:

8 to 10 plums (I use black plums)
3 1/2 cups flour
3/4 cup lukewarm milk, just lukewarm, not hot (more, if needed, later)
1/2 cup sugar + 2 tablespoons (divided use)
2 eggs, lightly beaten
5 tablespoons butter, melted + 2 tablespoons vegetable oil added to the melted butter
1/2 teaspoon vanilla 
1 teaspoon salt (if you use salted butter, skip this, or use just a pinch)
1 packet of active dry yeast
2/3 teaspoon cinnamon

Wash the plums, then quarter them, but leave the peel on. Put the plum quarters into a bowl and mix in the 2 tablespoons of sugar, set the plums aside. In another bowl, add 2 cups of flour, yeast, salt (if using), and the lukewarm milk. Mix together to form a sticky dough. Cover lightly, put in a warm place and let the dough rise for 30 to 45 minutes. Add the 1/2 cup sugar, 2 eggs, vanilla and the butter, working these ingredients into the dough as you gradually add the remaining flour. If the dough is too dry, add some milk (doesn't have to be warm), but just a tablespoon at a time, but it's okay if the dough is still somewhat sticky. Let the dough rest and rise a little again for just 10 to 15 minutes. Meanwhile, line a baking sheet with parchment paper. I used a baking sheet of 17 inches by 11 inches, but you can use a little larger sheet and spread the dough thinner. I keep the dough sticky and put it in the middle of the baking sheet and then press and smooth it out by hand and with a spatula. Press each quarter plum into the dough in rows. Pour any juice that has accumulated in the bowl over the plums and sprinkle the cinnamon over the top. If you want to use more plums, you can make the plum cake sort of look like roofing tiles by overlapping the plum quarters. Bake at 350 F until the visible parts of the cake are a bit browned. I baked the one I made for this article for about 40 to 45 minutes, but the baking time will naturally vary by the thickness of the dough.
 
* "Streusel" (actually pronounced like, "stroy-zel") is a common crumbly topping used by Germans for many cakes and pastries. There are some variations, but the basic recipe is sugar (sometimes brown sugar), flour, butter and a spice or two, often including cinnamon. By the way, the word "Streusel" (all nouns in German are capitalized) is closely related to English "strew," as it is "strewn"on top of cakes, and it was formed from the verb "streuen," meaning, "to strew, to scatter (about)." The ending "el" is a diminutive, meaning it "makes it smaller," so the literal meaning of the German noun "Streusel" seems to be, "a little something strewn on top of a cake." German immigrants brought "Streusel" to the U.S. 

A piece of "Quetschekuchen" without whipped cream, then two slightly different views with Quetschekuchen topped with whipped cream and served with a cup of coffee

WORD HISTORY:
Dodder-This is a tough word to research, but there are relatives in the Germanic languages, with other relatives in Indo European. It is distantly related to "dust" and to "dizzy," words from the Germanic roots of English. It goes back to Indo European "dheu," which had the notion of "smoke, haze, dust," and then "dheus," which meant, "whirl, twirl;" thus also, "twist around;" thus also the figurative, "confused, hazy in the mind, dizzy;" thus also, "to shake, to tremble." An unknown form was passed to Old Germanic, which was continued only in the West Germanic branch, and which gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) the verb "dyderian," meaning "to delude, to confuse," and also the noun, "dydrin," meaning "egg yolk" (apparently, because yolks "shake, quiver"). Then "dad(d)eren" developed, meaning, "to shake, to shake causing the teeth to hit together." This then became "dadder," then "dodder." In the Germanic languages, German still has "Dotter" (egg yolk, or yolks, as the same form is singular and plural), Low German Saxon has "Dodder" (yolk), Dutch has "dooier" (earlier "doder"), West Frisian "djerreblom" (Marigold, the flower, seemingly from the flowers looking like egg yolks?). One of the problems with the history of "dodder" is, its ancestors had a wide range of figurative meanings, including, from the notion of "whirl," "whisk, mix together;" thus also, "murky;" that is, "something mixed together and, thus, unclear or impure."

Pork With Plum and Chili Glaze

You can make your own plum preserves/jam for this recipe, as it's easy to do.

Ingredients:

6 boneless pork chops
4 black or red plums, washed, seeded and chopped
1/3 cup to 1/2 cup sugar, depending upon the sweetness of the plums and your personal taste
(or store bought plum preserves)
1/2 habanero chili
1/2 serrano chili* 
about 1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons seasoned salt, to season the pork, both sides (I use adobo seasoning)

To make your own fresh plum chili sauce for this dish, put the chopped plums and chilies into a sauce pan with 1/3 cup sugar, mix in well. Cook over low heat, stirring frequently to prevent sticking. Taste the mixture to see if it is sweet and hot enough. When I made this the last time, the plums were very ripe and sweet, and thus they required less sugar, but I've also made it with plums that were tart, so the amount of sugar is simply a base guideline, and you just adjust it according to your own preference. Cook until the mixture thickens well, remove from heat (it will thicken even more). If using store bought preserves, add about 6 to 8 ounces of plum preserves to a pan and then add the chilies (continue as for making your own preserves). Season the pork on both sides with seasoned salt. Heat oven to 325 F. Bake pork on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, or on a rack in a baking pan/dish, until essentially tender (but it will be baked for a while longer). In a bowl, add the preserves and use a fork or tongs to then coat each pork chop with the plum/chili mixture. Return the pork to the oven for about 10 to 12 minutes. Serve extra plum/chili sauce on the side.   

* As I've noted here before, chilies vary in heat, even among the same type of peppers. When can always adjust the amount of chili pepper you add, according to the heat of the chili used and for your own personal heat preference.   

WORD HISTORY:
Glaze-This word, related to "glass," "gloss" (the form meaning "sheen, beauty") and "glow," goes back to Indo European "ghel," which had the notion, "to shine, to be bright." This gave its Old Germanic offspring "glaza/glasa," which seems to have originally meant, "amber," for the light and shiny fossil resin used for jewelry and decorative purposes. This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "glæsen," which was an adjectival form, "made of glass, shiny like glass." This then was used to form the verb, "glasen/glazen," "to be like glass, to shine like glass," and these then produced the noun form, but not until the 1700s, "material used to make something shiny." This then became modern "glaze," which broadened the meaning to cooking and "shiny" sauces to coat food. German has the closely related adjective "gläsern," "glassy, glass-like" (Low German also uses the same word, but whether it came by way of standard German, or gave the word TO standard German, I'm not sure).

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. 

I'll Have The Goulash

This was published in August 2012, more as a general article, but I added the actual recipe November 29, 2016.


I got into my cooking mode a couple of days ago, and I fixed two great dishes, which lasted for a couple of meals. I made "goulash" and bacon dumplings (German: "Speckknödel" *). There is some disagreement about the history and preparation of goulash, but it developed among Hungarian herders** who fixed a thick soup of beef, peppers, onions, chopped tomatoes,*** paprika (a Hungarian specialty), and perhaps some other items, especially caraway, but also garlic, potatoes, or carrots, and typically thickened with flour. Hungary was ruled for quite some time by the Habsburg dynasty, and later it gained a large degree of equality in an agreement in 1867, making the former Austro-German dominated Austrian Empire into a shared empire called Austria-Hungary, or the Austro-Hungarian Empire. With Vienna (German: "Wien") the capital city of the multi-ethnic empire, lots of different peoples and foods influenced the culture of the city, and the Viennese picked up goulash from the Hungarians, albeit with their own version,**** which made it into more of a real stew, rather than a thick soup. The stew became something of a Viennese specialty, typically accompanied by bread dumplings (German: "Semmelknödel"), a close cousin to the bacon dumplings I made.

Well, many years ago in Frankfurt, Germany, there was a little restaurant called "Servus" (pronounced "zair-voos"). The word is known throughout the German-speaking lands, but it is more typical in southern German lingo; that is, more so in Bavaria and especially in Austria, and it is used as either a greeting or farewell, depending upon circumstance; thus it means "hello" or "goodbye." Wow did "Servus" have good food! It was owned by a fairly young couple, and I went in so many times, the lady asked me why I had become such a good customer. Well, one of the reasons was the goulash, or "Gulasch," in German, and the other was "Zwetschgenknödel" (plum dumplings). Now, the standard German word for "plum" is "Pflaume," a close relative to the English form, as centuries ago Old Germanic borrowed a form from Latin, giving both English and German forms of the word. For the history of the words "plum" and "prune," see my article at this link:  http://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2013/04/plum-pudding-and-plum-cake.html    However, many German dialects use forms of "Zwetsche"***** for "plum." There are numerous spellings and pronunciations, including "Quetsche" in much of Hessen, the German state where Frankfurt is located, and "Quetschkuche," or "plum cake," is common in that area.

Anyhow, the lady proceeded to tell me she was from Austria and that her husband was Hungarian. Alas, the old empire was recreated. When I asked her where she was from in Austria, she got a bit nervous, even saying I would have never heard of it. Finally she told me, and I certainly understood her anxiety about how I might react. She was from Braunau, a little town right across the border from the German state of Bavaria. In fact, during certain times in the past, the town had been part of Bavaria. So why was she so nervous? Because Braunau was the birthplace of Adolf Hitler. The full name is actually "Branau am Inn;" the "am Inn" meaning, "on the Inn (River)."

Germans, the ethnic group, and not just the specific nationality from Gerrmany, love dumplings, and they make them out of flour, potatoes, or even stale bread or rolls. They come in all shapes and sizes, sweet or savory, and with various added ingredients. "Speckknödel" are made from stale rolls, which are sliced and soaked in warm milk. Small strips of bacon and sausage (usually smoked) are lightly fried together and then added to the bread. Today most of us would pour off the fat before adding the meat to the bread, but that was not the case in the past, when bacon and sausage fat added flavor to the dumpling mixture, along with a substantial dose of cholesterol. A little salt and some parsley are mixed in, and egg and flour help to bind the dough, which is then rolled into dumplings somewhere about the size of ping pong balls or golf balls. A little coating of flour helps to keep the dumplings from falling apart. Ten to fifteen minutes in some salted, lightly boiling water and you're ready to go. Any leftovers can be sliced and fried lightly in butter for a snack or even served with eggs for breakfast, which is not uncommon. I don't waste anything, as the water will have residue from the cooked dumplings, giving you something on the order of a thick porridge.

Vienna-Style Goulash (Gulasch, Wiener Art) Recipe (this is my own version):

Typically this dish is cooked on the stove top, but I prefer to bake it at relatively low heat for a couple of hours. In the past, the beef would not have had the fat trimmed off of it.

2 pounds beef stewing meat (bite-sized pieces)
3 tablespoons of vegetable oil or sunflower oil
3 onions, chopped
3 tablespoons mild paprika (Hungarian, if you have it)
1 tablespoon hot paprika ("hot" paprika tends not to be terribly hot)
3 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon sugar (this helps to smooth out some of the acidity, use a little more, if needed)
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 teaspoon dried marjoram (or you can substitute oregano)
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
1 teaspoon red wine vinegar (or cider vinegar)
1/4 cup beef stock (I suppose you could substitute beef bullion, but don't be surprised if the Viennese put a curse on you, where you hear 24 straight hours of waltz music)
1 or 2 teaspoons salt (your preference; I use seasoned salt)
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

I use a heavy duty pan with a lid to make goulash. I add the oil first, then I add all of the other ingredients, then I mix it all well. I bake it at 275 degrees (F) for an hour, then I stir it, then I turn the heat down to about 250 (F) and let it bake for another 90 minutes. Check to be sure the meat is tender, giving the meat as much time as it needs to bake. The relatively low heat isn't going to hurt it, and your patience will be greatly rewarded with a delicious goulash.
 
If you want the goulash very thick, as I do, mix 1 tablespoon flour with 2 tablespoons water, making sure the flour is well mixed in. Stir the mixture into the goulash near the very end of cooking, and return it to the oven for about 5 minutes. Since I fix my goulash in an oven safe pan, I simply put the pan on the stove (low heat) and add the flour/water mixture, stirring until it is thickened and the flour taste is cooked out, which only takes a couple of minutes. Remember to remove the bay leaf before serving. I must admit, on occasion over the years, I have used bullion instead of real beef stock and nothing ever happened to me ... Hey! What's that music? Do I hear a waltz?  

* Also called "Tiroler Speckknödel."

** The Hungarian word for "herder, herdsman," "gulyas," lies behind the word "goulash."

*** I once read a recipe for goulash by a lady whose Hungarian mother or grandmother, I now cannot remember which, was adamant that "real Hungarian goulash" did NOT have tomatoes in it. I'll stay out of the argument, except to say that everyone has their own recipes for various foods, and goulash is no exception, including in Hungary. Just a possible explanation though: the passing down of recipes for goulash could likely date from a time before tomatoes were accepted as being safe in Europe. Tomatoes came from the New World, and they were originally thought to be poisonous, thus it is not out of the question that early recipes for the dish did not include tomatoes, and that omission was retained by many people, as the recipe was passed down.

**** The more typical Viennese style (German: "Gulasch, Wiener Art") uses beef, onions, some tomato puree or paste, paprika, salt, pepper and caraway, although some cooks add garlic, and/or, a bit of vinegar. I improvised a bit, using some tomato paste and about a heaping tablespoon of thick ketchup, which provided just a tad of vinegar. It should be slowly braised (a slow cooker is good for this) and end up rather dark in color, somewhat on the order of dark red wine. A variation of this is served with a fried egg on top, as well as one of the famous Vienna-style sausages ("Wieners," to Americans; German: "Frankfurter Würstl"), and a pickle, which in restaurants has one end cut into a fan shape. This is then called "Fiakergulasch," or "Cabbie's Goulash," with a "Fiaker" being the name for a two-horse carriage used as a cab long ago. The name was also used for the cab driver. 

***** The various forms of Zwetsche are not native German words, but another borrowing, "perhaps" from a non-German dialect from the alpine border area of northern Italy and eastern France.

WORD HISTORY:
Cook-This "seems" to go back to Indo European "kekewo," "perhaps" a variant form of "pekwo," which seems to have meant "to ripen;" the notion being to prepare inedible raw food until it is 'ripe;' that is, ready to eat. Latin had "coquus," which was borrowed into Old Germanic as "kukaz," a noun form. This gave its Anglo-Saxon (Old English) offspring "coc," which later became "cook." The Latin verb form "coquo" was likewise borrowed by Old Germanic as "kokanan," which then gave Old English "cocian," as well as "gecocsian," both meaning essentially "to cook." The latter died out or merged with the former, which then became "coken," before the modern form. Noun and verb forms are common throughout the other Germanic languages: German has "Koch" and "kochen" (meaning "cook, boil"); Low German Saxon "Kock" and "kaken/koken;" Dutch has "kok" and "koken;" Danish has "kok" and "koge;" Icelandic has the noun "kokkur" ("chef"); Swedish has "kock/kocken" and "koka;" and Norwegian has "kokk(en)" and "koke" ("boil"). Apparently Frisian does not use a form of the word in modern times, but it once had "koka."