
Chef Elsa
Apfelradeln
Thick apple rings in a light, eggy batter, fried golden in butter and oil, then buried under cinnamon sugar while they're still hot enough to melt it on contact.
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Tyrolean mountain hut cooking at its best: a dense, buttery batter torn apart with wild bilberries that stain everything purple and taste like the Alps in July.
The first time I ate Moosbeermiasl I was eleven years old, sitting on a wooden bench outside an Almhütte above Innsbruck. Gretel had taken my grandmother Eva and me on one of their annual pilgrimages through Austria, and that summer we went walking in Tyrol. The hut cook made it in a blackened iron pan over a wood fire. The batter was thick and heavy, nothing like the airy Kaiserschmarrn I knew from Eva's kitchen in Kent. It was packed with wild bilberries that had burst in the heat and turned the whole thing a deep, almost violet purple. She tore it apart with a wooden spoon, dusted it with sugar, and set it down on the table with a glass of cold milk. I ate the entire portion and asked for more.
Moosbeermiasl is not Kaiserschmarrn. I want to be clear about that because people see the word Schmarrn and expect something light and pillowy. This is mountain food, Almküche, the cooking of the high pastures. The batter has no separated eggs, no whipped whites, no air folded in. You mix flour, eggs, milk, and sugar together into something thick and almost porridge-like, stir in handfuls of bilberries, and fry the whole mass in far too much butter until it forms a crust on the bottom. Then you tear it. The pieces are dense and chewy where the batter held together, crisp and caramelized where the butter found the edges, and stained purple everywhere the berries touched.
Tyrolean cooks call the berries Moosbeeren. In standard German they're Heidelbeeren, and in English you'd say bilberries or wild blueberries. They're smaller, darker, and more intensely flavored than cultivated blueberries, and they stain your fingers, your lips, and your kitchen cloth a colour that doesn't come out in the wash. If you can find real wild bilberries, use them. If you can't, use the best fresh blueberries available and press a few of them with a fork before adding them to the batter so they release their juice. The colour won't be quite the same but the spirit of the dish will survive.
This is the kind of cooking that doesn't translate well to Instagram. It looks rough and purple and torn apart. It tastes like standing on a mountain with butter on your chin and not caring who sees you lick the plate.
Moosbeermiasl belongs to the Almküche tradition of Tyrol, the cooking done in high-altitude huts during the summer months when farmers moved their cattle to Alpine pastures. The dish predates tourism in the Alps by centuries and was originally made with whatever the Sennerin (dairymaid) had on hand: flour, eggs, butter from the morning milking, and wild bilberries gathered from the slopes around the hut. The name varies across Tyrolean valleys. In some areas it's Moosbeernockn, in others Schwarzbeermuas. The word Miasl comes from the Tyrolean dialect term for Mus, a thick, cooked mass, which tells you everything about the intended texture.
Quantity
200g
Quantity
3 large
Quantity
150ml
Quantity
30g
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
300g
Quantity
60g
Quantity
for dusting
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| plain flour | 200g |
| eggs | 3 large |
| whole milk | 150ml |
| granulated sugar | 30g |
| vanilla sugar (Vanillezucker) | 1 teaspoon |
| salt | pinch |
| fresh bilberries or wild blueberries (Moosbeeren) | 300g |
| unsalted butter | 60g |
| powdered sugar | for dusting |
| cold milk or Schlagobers (whipped cream) (optional) | for serving |
Whisk together the eggs, sugar, Vanillezucker, and salt in a large bowl until combined. Add the flour and milk and stir with a wooden spoon until you have a thick, heavy batter. This is not a delicate crepe batter. It should be dense and reluctant to pour, closer to thick porridge than pancake mix. A few small lumps are fine. The batter's thickness is what gives Moosbeermiasl its characteristic chew, so resist the urge to thin it out with more milk.
Wash the bilberries gently and pat them dry. Fold them into the batter with a spatula. Don't be precious about it, but don't crush them all either. Some will burst during cooking and that's what you want. The batter should look crowded with berries. If it doesn't, you haven't used enough.
Melt half the butter in a heavy pan over medium heat. A cast-iron skillet is ideal here. When the butter foams and the foam begins to settle, pour in the batter and spread it roughly with a spatula. It won't flow on its own because the batter is too thick. That's correct. Let it cook undisturbed for four to five minutes. The bottom will form a golden crust while the top stays soft. You'll hear the butter sizzling at the edges. If the pan starts to smell like browning butter, reduce the heat slightly. Burnt butter is the only thing that can ruin this dish.
Using a spatula, flip the Miasl in rough sections. It doesn't need to turn in one piece. Once the underside has some colour on it too, start tearing the mass apart with two forks or a wooden spatula into thick, ragged pieces. These should be bigger and chunkier than Kaiserschmarrn pieces, roughly the size of a walnut or larger. Some will have a crisp buttery crust on one side and soft purple batter on the other. That contrast is exactly what you're after.
Add the remaining butter to the pan and let it melt around the torn pieces. Sprinkle a tablespoon of sugar over everything. Toss the pieces gently in the butter for another two to three minutes, letting the edges crisp and the sugar caramelize into golden-brown patches. The berries that have burst will create sticky, jammy spots where they meet the hot butter. Your kitchen will smell like a mountain morning and your pan will be stained purple. Accept both.
Pile the torn pieces onto a warm plate. Dust generously with powdered sugar. Serve immediately with a glass of cold milk on the side if you want the Alpine hut experience, or with a spoonful of unsweetened Schlagobers if you're closer to the Kaffeehaus end of the spectrum. Both are correct. Mahlzeit!
1 serving (about 400g)
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