
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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Stale Semmeln layered with cinnamon apples, rum-soaked raisins, and egg custard, then crowned with a golden Schneehaube meringue. The name means funeral pyre. The dish is pure, thrifty Austrian comfort.
Gretel always said that the best Austrian cooks never threw away bread. In my grandmother Eva's kitchen in Kent, stale Semmeln weren't a problem to solve. They were the beginning of something. Scheiterhaufen was one of those somethings.
The name translates to funeral pyre, which sounds grim until you see the dish. Layers of milk-soaked bread stacked with thinly sliced apples and rum-plumped raisins, bound together with an egg custard, then baked until everything softens and melds into one warm, yielding thing. The top gets a Schneehaube, a meringue cap whipped from the leftover egg whites, pulled into peaks that turn golden in the oven while the valleys stay snow-white. It comes to the table looking like a small alpine landscape.
This is Mehlspeisen at their most honest. No expensive ingredients. No complicated technique. Stale bread, a few eggs, good apples, butter, sugar, and the confidence to trust that simple things done properly will be delicious. Austrian grandmothers have been making this for generations, and every one of them would tell you the same thing: the bread must be stale, the raisins must be soaked, and the meringue must be generous. Follow those three rules and the dish takes care of itself.
I serve a version of this at my restaurant in Salzburg in autumn, when the Boskoop apples come in from the Salzkammergut. Guests who've never heard of Scheiterhaufen order it because it looks beautiful, and then they order it again the next time because it tastes like being taken care of.
Scheiterhaufen belongs to a family of Austrian bread-based Mehlspeisen born from the frugal tradition of using every scrap. The name, which translates to 'funeral pyre' or 'stake,' refers to the stacked layers of bread resembling a pyre of logs. It appears in Austrian cookbooks dating to the 19th century and has roots in the Austro-Bavarian Alps, where stale bread was too valuable to waste and egg custard was the simplest way to transform it. The Schneehaube meringue topping is a Viennese refinement that turned a peasant dish into something fit for a Bürgerlich Sunday table.
Quantity
6 Semmeln or 300g
sliced 1cm thick
Quantity
400ml
warmed
Quantity
4 large
separated
Quantity
80g
divided
Quantity
2 teaspoons
Quantity
1
zested
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
500g
peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
Quantity
60g
soaked in 2 tablespoons rum for at least 1 hour
Quantity
30g
softened, plus extra for the dish
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
30g
Quantity
for dusting
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| stale Semmeln or day-old white breadsliced 1cm thick | 6 Semmeln or 300g |
| whole milkwarmed | 400ml |
| eggsseparated | 4 large |
| granulated sugardivided | 80g |
| vanilla sugar (Vanillezucker) | 2 teaspoons |
| lemonzested | 1 |
| salt | pinch |
| tart apples (Boskoop or Braeburn)peeled, cored, and thinly sliced | 500g |
| raisinssoaked in 2 tablespoons rum for at least 1 hour | 60g |
| unsalted buttersoftened, plus extra for the dish | 30g |
| ground cinnamon | 1/2 teaspoon |
| pine nuts or slivered almonds (optional) | 30g |
| powdered sugar | for dusting |
Slice the stale Semmeln or bread into rounds about one centimeter thick. Lay them in a wide bowl and pour the warmed milk over them. Let them sit for ten to fifteen minutes, turning once. You want the bread to drink up the milk and soften without dissolving into mush. It should hold its shape when you lift a slice, just barely. Stale bread is the whole point here. Fresh bread turns to paste. If your bread is still soft, cut it and leave it uncovered on the counter overnight, or dry it gently in a low oven for ten minutes.
In a large bowl, whisk the egg yolks with 50g of the sugar, the Vanillezucker, lemon zest, and a pinch of salt until the mixture turns pale and slightly thick. This takes about two minutes of steady whisking. The lemon zest matters. It lifts the whole dish and keeps the sweetness honest. Set the egg whites aside in a clean, dry bowl for the Schneehaube later.
Peel, core, and slice the apples thinly, about three millimeters. Toss them with the cinnamon. Drain the rum-soaked raisins but don't squeeze them dry. You want them plump and fragrant, carrying that rum into every layer. If you've skipped the rum soak, the raisins will sit there like dry little pebbles and the whole dish suffers for it.
Preheat your oven to 180°C (160°C fan). Butter a deep baking dish generously, about 25 by 18 centimeters. Now build your pyre. Lay a single layer of soaked bread on the bottom, fitting the pieces snugly. Spread a layer of apple slices over the bread. Scatter some raisins and a few pine nuts. Spoon some of the egg yolk custard over everything. Repeat: bread, apples, raisins, nuts, custard. You want three layers, finishing with bread on top. Press the layers down gently with your hand so the custard seeps into every gap. Dot the top with small pieces of butter.
Slide the dish into the oven and bake for 25 minutes. The custard needs time to set around the bread and the apples need to soften and release their juices into the layers below. When you pull it out, the top should be lightly golden and the custard should be just set, not still liquid in the center. It will still look a little wobbly. That's fine. The meringue goes on next.
While the base bakes, whip the reserved egg whites with a pinch of salt until foamy. Add the remaining 30g of sugar gradually, a spoonful at a time, beating until the meringue holds stiff, glossy peaks. Schneehaube means snow cap, and that's exactly what it should look like. Don't rush the sugar. Adding it all at once gives you a grainy, weepy meringue instead of that smooth, marshmallow texture you're after.
Pull the baking dish from the oven. Spoon the meringue over the top in generous peaks and swirls, making sure it touches the edges of the dish on all sides. If the meringue doesn't seal to the edges, it will shrink away as it bakes. Use the back of the spoon to pull up little peaks. They'll toast golden and beautiful. Return the dish to the oven for 15 to 18 minutes until the Schneehaube turns golden on the peaks and stays white in the valleys.
Let the Scheiterhaufen rest for five minutes out of the oven. Dust with powdered sugar. Serve it warm from the dish, spooned onto plates. It's not a dish you slice neatly. It's a dish you scoop, and every spoonful should pull up layers of custardy bread, soft apples, rum-soaked raisins, and that golden meringue crown. Mahlzeit!
1 serving (about 230g)
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