Dillsauce (Austrian Dill Cream Sauce)

In my grandmother Eva's kitchen in Kent, Dillsauce was the sauce that appeared whenever Gretel brought over a piece of good beef for simmering. It wasn't written down for years. Gretel would stand at the stove, melt the butter, stir in the flour, and pour in the broth she'd just ladled from the beef pot. A splash of cream, a fistful of dill, a squeeze of lemon, done. The whole thing took ten minutes. I'd watch the sauce go from pale blonde to something silky and fragrant, clinging to the back of the spoon, and I'd think: that's what dinner smells like.

Dillsauce belongs to the family of Einbrenn sauces that form the backbone of Austrian home cooking. An Einbrenn is just a roux, butter and flour cooked together, but in Vienna they built an entire world of sauces on that simple base. Dillsauce, Schnittlauchsauce, Semmelkrensauce. Each one a different herb or flavor stirred into the same reliable foundation. The technique is the same every time. Once you learn it, you can make any of them.

What makes Dillsauce special is how much work the dill does. It's not a background note. It's the whole personality of the sauce. You need fresh dill, and you need a lot of it. Dried dill in this sauce is like putting instant coffee in a Melange. You'll taste the difference, and not in a good way. Buy the freshest bunch you can find, chop it at the last moment, and stir it in just before serving so the heat wakes up the oils without cooking them out.