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A rich Austrian forest mushroom soup, golden with butter and thickened with cream, the kind of bowlful that makes you understand why Austrians take their soup course so seriously.
Every autumn in Salzburg, the Grünmarkt fills up with Schwammerl. Wooden crates of Eierschwammerl glowing that impossible egg-yolk gold, Steinpilze with caps the size of your fist, Parasol mushrooms fanning out like little umbrellas. The vendors know their forests the way a fisherman knows his stretch of river. You point, they tell you where it grew and how to cook it.
Gretel always said that a proper Austrian soup tells you the season before you taste it. Schwammerlcremesuppe is autumn in a bowl. You cook the mushrooms hard in butter until they give up their water and start to brown, then you build the soup around them with a light roux, good stock, and enough cream to make the whole thing feel like velvet. The flavor should be deep and earthy, not delicate. This is forest food dressed up just enough for the dining table.
I make this soup at my restaurant from late August through November, when the wild mushrooms are at their peak. Outside of season, I don't make it at all. Good cultivated mushrooms will give you a decent version in winter, and I'll tell you how, but the real thing depends on what the woods provide. If you can get your hands on fresh Eierschwammerl or Steinpilze, even a small handful mixed with ordinary mushrooms, you'll taste the difference in every spoonful.
The technique is not complicated, but two things matter: cook the mushrooms properly and don't drown them in cream. The mushrooms are the voice of this soup. The cream is there to carry them, not to take over.
Schwammerl is the Austrian dialect word for mushrooms, from the old German Schwamm, meaning sponge. Wild mushroom foraging has been part of Alpine food culture for centuries, and Austrian forest law still grants public foraging rights for personal use in most woodlands. Cream soups built on a roux base, called eingebrannte Suppen, are one of the oldest soup families in Austrian home cooking, dating to at least the 18th century when the Bürgerlich kitchen codified many of the techniques still used today.
Quantity
500g
cleaned and roughly chopped
Quantity
50g
Quantity
1 medium
finely diced
Quantity
2 cloves
finely sliced
Quantity
30g
Quantity
150ml
Quantity
750ml
Quantity
200ml
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
freshly ground
Quantity
pinch
freshly grated
Quantity
2 tablespoons
finely chopped
Quantity
1 tablespoon
finely cut
Quantity
small knob
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| mixed wild mushrooms (Eierschwammerl, Steinpilze, or Parasol)cleaned and roughly chopped | 500g |
| unsalted butter | 50g |
| onionfinely diced | 1 medium |
| garlicfinely sliced | 2 cloves |
| plain flour | 30g |
| dry white wine (Grüner Veltliner or similar) | 150ml |
| beef or vegetable stock | 750ml |
| Schlagobers (heavy cream) | 200ml |
| fresh lemon juice | 1 tablespoon |
| salt | to taste |
| white pepperfreshly ground | to taste |
| nutmegfreshly grated | pinch |
| fresh flat-leaf parsleyfinely chopped | 2 tablespoons |
| fresh chivesfinely cut | 1 tablespoon |
| unsalted butter (for finishing) | small knob |
| crusty bread | for serving |
Brush the mushrooms clean with a dry cloth or soft brush. Don't wash them under running water. Wild mushrooms are sponges and they'll soak up liquid you'll spend the rest of the recipe trying to cook back out. If they're very dirty, a quick damp wipe is fine, but dry them immediately on a clean towel. Roughly chop the larger ones, leave small Eierschwammerl whole or halved. Set aside a generous handful of the best-looking pieces for the garnish.
Melt half the butter in a wide, heavy pan over high heat. When it foams and the foam begins to subside, add the mushrooms in a single layer. Don't crowd the pan. This is the most important step in the entire recipe. Mushrooms packed too tightly will steam instead of fry, and steamed mushrooms taste like wet cardboard. You want them sizzling hard, browning at the edges, concentrating their flavor. Cook without stirring for two to three minutes, then toss and let them brown on the other side. They'll release liquid first, then reabsorb it, then finally start to caramelize. Season with salt only after they've browned. Salt draws out moisture, and you want that moisture gone.
Remove the seared mushrooms from the pan and set them aside. In the same pan, melt the remaining butter over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook gently until soft and translucent, about five minutes. You don't want color on the onions here. Add the garlic and cook for one minute more, just until you can smell it. Sprinkle the flour over the onions and stir it in. Cook this roux for two minutes, stirring constantly. The flour needs to lose its raw taste, but it should stay pale. A blonde roux, the Austrians call it. It thickens without muddying the mushroom flavor.
Pour in the white wine and stir vigorously. The roux will seize up for a moment, then relax into a smooth paste as the wine works through it. Let the wine bubble for a minute to cook off the raw alcohol. Now add the stock in a steady stream, whisking as you go to prevent lumps. Bring to a gentle simmer. Return the seared mushrooms to the pot, keeping your garnish portion aside. Let the soup simmer for fifteen to twenty minutes. The flavors need time to come together and the roux needs time to do its work as a thickener.
This is where you decide what kind of soup you want. For a smooth, velvety cream soup, blend everything with a stick blender until completely smooth. For a more rustic version with texture and bite, blend only half the soup and stir it back into the chunky half. I prefer the rustic way. You can taste what you're eating, and those pieces of browned mushroom give every spoonful something to find. Either way, pass the blended soup through a sieve if you want it perfectly smooth. At my restaurant I don't bother. This is Gasthaus food, not Haubenküche.
Return the soup to a gentle heat. Stir in the cream and let it warm through for two or three minutes. Don't boil it after the cream goes in or it may break. Add the lemon juice, a grating of nutmeg, and season with salt and white pepper. The lemon juice is quiet but essential. It lifts the earthiness of the mushrooms and keeps the cream from feeling heavy. Taste it now. Adjust. The soup should taste like a forest floor in the best possible way: deep, earthy, rich, with just enough brightness to keep you reaching for the spoon.
While the soup warms, take that handful of reserved mushrooms and sauté them quickly in a small knob of butter over high heat until golden and slightly crisp at the edges. Season with a pinch of salt. These go on top of the soup at the table. The contrast between the silky soup and the seared garnish is what turns a good bowl into a memorable one.
Ladle the soup into warm bowls. Pile the sautéed mushroom garnish in the center of each bowl. Scatter parsley and chives over the top. Serve immediately with good crusty bread for mopping up what the spoon can't reach. Mahlzeit!
1 serving (about 375g)
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