Gebackener Emmentaler im Bierteig

Every Gasthaus worth sitting down in has some version of this on the menu. A thick slab of Emmentaler, coated in a batter made with Austrian lager, fried until the outside is golden and impossibly crisp while the cheese inside turns soft and stretchy without quite escaping. You eat it fast, standing up at a Heuriger or sitting at a worn wooden table with a Viertel of Grüner Veltliner, and it's the kind of food that makes you wonder why anyone bothers with complicated appetizers.

I first had this as a child on one of our summer trips with Gretel and my grandmother Eva. We'd stopped at a Buschenschank somewhere in the Wachau, one of those vine-covered terraces where the wine is the vintner's own and the food is simple. Gretel ordered it for the table and showed me how to squeeze the lemon over the top while it was still hot, so the juice hit the crust and sizzled. I remember the cress piled underneath, peppery and cool against the hot cheese. That contrast is the whole point of the dish.

The batter is what makes or breaks it. You want it light, almost lacy when it fries, with enough structure to hold the melting cheese inside. Beer does two things here: the carbonation aerates the batter so it puffs up in the hot oil, and the malt adds a subtle sweetness that pairs with the nutty Emmentaler. Use a pale Austrian lager, nothing hoppy or dark. The cheese should be cold when it goes into the oil. Cold cheese takes longer to melt, which gives the batter time to set and crisp before everything inside goes liquid. If the cheese is room temperature, you'll lose half of it into the pan. Gretel always said: the cheese must be colder than you think and the oil must be hotter than you think. She was right about both.