Potthucke

Potthucke belongs to the Sauerland, to the potato basket, and to the part of the German table that knows a cheap dish can still demand proper technique. It is autumn and winter food, though nobody sensible waits for a feast day to make it. A pot of potatoes, a little onion, bacon if the larder has it, eggs to bind it, then into the oven until the crust sets dark at the edges.

The argument starts as soon as you leave the Sauerland. Here I want raw grated potato mixed with cooked, cooled potato; the cooked potato gives the loaf its hold, and the raw potato gives it that close, damp crumb that fries well the next day. In the Rhineland and the Eifel, the cousin is Döppekooche, often heavier on raw potato and sausage, baked dark in a pot. Im Norden anders, im Süden anders. German food has no single version, and this one is not trying to be a beer-tent plate.

The technique that decides it is moisture. Grate the raw potato, salt it lightly, then squeeze it hard and save the starch that settles in the bowl. Leave the water in and the loaf stews instead of baking; throw the starch away and it loses its backbone. Erst verstehen, dann kochen. The old kitchen knew this before it had a word for food science.

Bake it gently until the middle is set, then let it rest before slicing. Hot from the oven it eats soft beside applesauce or a sharp salad. Cold the next day, it slices clean and fries in a little bacon fat until the faces go crisp. Weggeworfen wird nichts.