
Chef Elsa
Eiersalat (Austrian Egg Salad)
Cool, creamy Austrian egg salad with sour gherkins and tart apple in a mustard-yogurt dressing, the kind of honest Jause food that tastes like an Austrian Easter table and works beautifully all year round.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
Peppery grated radish, salted until tender, dressed in a sharp vinegar Marinade, and served the way they do at every good Heuriger in Vienna: simply, honestly, with a glass of wine.
The first time I remember eating Rettichsalat I was eight or nine, sitting at a wooden table in a Heuriger courtyard outside Vienna with Gretel and my grandmother Eva. There were platters of cold meat and cheese, baskets of bread, and a row of small white bowls, each holding a different salad. The Rettichsalat was nothing to look at. Pale shreds in a plain bowl. I took a bite and the pepper hit the back of my nose and made my eyes water. Gretel laughed and told me to keep eating. By the third bite I understood. The heat blooms and then fades, and what's left is this clean, sharp freshness that cuts through everything else on the table.
Rettichsalat is Heuriger food at its most honest. A single vegetable, salted, dressed, served. No fuss, no complexity, nothing to hide behind. The technique is salt and time. You grate the radish, salt it to draw out water and soften the bite, squeeze it dry, and dress it with good vinegar and a little oil. The dressing is vinegar-forward, the way all Austrian Marinaden should be. The oil rounds things out but never dominates.
Outside Austria, this salad has been almost entirely forgotten. People know Schnitzel and Strudel. They don't know Rettichsalat, or Vogerlsalat, or any of the small salads that make up a Gemischter Salat at a proper Gasthaus. That's a shame, because these simple preparations are where you really taste what Austrian cooking is about: good ingredients, treated with respect, served without pretension.
Rettichsalat belongs to the Heuriger tradition, the Viennese wine taverns licensed since a 1784 decree by Emperor Josef II that allowed vintners to sell their own new wine alongside simple cold food. The salads served at these taverns, Rettichsalat, Krautsalat, Erdäpfelsalat, Gurkensalat, reflect centuries of Austrian farmhouse cooking where root vegetables and preserved foods fed families through long winters. Black radish in particular was a staple of Central European peasant kitchens long before it appeared on Heuriger platters, valued for its hardiness in cold soil and its ability to keep through the winter months in a root cellar.
Quantity
1 large, about 400g
peeled
Quantity
1 heaped teaspoon
Quantity
3 tablespoons
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 pinch
Quantity
to taste
freshly ground
Quantity
1 tablespoon
finely cut
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| black radish (Schwarzer Rettich) or white radish (Weißer Rettich)peeled | 1 large, about 400g |
| fine salt | 1 heaped teaspoon |
| Apfelessig (apple cider vinegar) or Hesperidenessig | 3 tablespoons |
| sunflower oil or mild rapeseed oil | 2 tablespoons |
| sugar | 1 pinch |
| black pepperfreshly ground | to taste |
| fresh chivesfinely cut | 1 tablespoon |
Peel the radish and grate it on the coarse side of a box grater into long, thin shreds. If you have a Rettichhobler, a traditional radish slicer that cuts it into spiraling ribbons, even better. You want thin, consistent pieces so the salt can do its work evenly. Don't use a food processor. It bruises the flesh and you lose that clean, sharp bite that makes Rettich worth eating.
Spread the grated radish in a wide bowl and sprinkle the salt evenly over it. Toss it through with your hands so every shred gets coated. Now leave it alone for twenty to thirty minutes. The salt draws water out of the radish cells, softening the texture and concentrating the flavor. You'll come back to a puddle of sharp, peppery liquid at the bottom of the bowl. This is exactly what you want.
Take handfuls of the salted radish and squeeze them firmly over the sink. Get as much liquid out as you can. The shreds should feel damp but not wet when you drop them back into a clean bowl. If you leave too much water in, your Marinade will be diluted and the whole salad goes limp and tasteless within an hour. Be thorough here. It matters.
Add the vinegar first, toss it through, then add the oil. This order is important. The vinegar penetrates the radish shreds directly. If you add oil first, it coats the surface and the vinegar slides off. Austrian salad dressings are vinegar-forward by nature. The oil is there for roundness, not richness. Add the pinch of sugar. It doesn't sweeten the salad, it smooths the sharp edges of the vinegar. Finish with freshly ground black pepper.
Let the dressed salad sit for ten minutes at room temperature so the flavors come together. Scatter the chives over the top just before serving. Rettichsalat should be cool but not ice cold. Straight from the fridge deadens the pepper. Serve it in a small porcelain bowl as part of a Gemischter Salat, or on its own alongside cold cuts, bread, and a glass of Grüner Veltliner. Mahlzeit!
1 serving (about 95g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Elsa
Cool, creamy Austrian egg salad with sour gherkins and tart apple in a mustard-yogurt dressing, the kind of honest Jause food that tastes like an Austrian Easter table and works beautifully all year round.

Chef Elsa
Bitter curly endive wilted just so by a warm dressing of rendered Speck, sharp vinegar, and a touch of mustard, the kind of salad that makes a roast pork dinner feel complete.

Chef Elsa
Warm broth-soaked potatoes and crispy Speck over tender Vogerlsalat, finished with a drizzle of dark Steirisches Kürbiskernöl and a soft-boiled egg that ties the whole bowl together.

Chef Elsa
Tender Austrian green beans dressed in warm Marinade the moment they leave the pot, absorbing every drop of vinegar and oil while they cool into something far greater than the sum of their parts.