
Chef Elsa
Apfelkren
Freshly grated horseradish folded with tart apple and lemon, the cold, sharp sauce that belongs beside every plate of Tafelspitz in Vienna and has done for as long as anyone can remember.
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Golden chanterelles simmered in cream and white wine, ladled generously over Semmelknödel with Preiselbeeren on the side. This is what Austrians mean when they say good home cooking.
Schwammerl is the Austrian word for mushrooms, and if you spend any time in the Alps between July and October you'll hear it constantly. At the Grünmarkt in Salzburg, the mushroom sellers arrive before dawn with crates of Eierschwammerl, the golden chanterelles that grow in the forests above the city. They smell like damp earth and apricots and something faintly peppery that you can't quite name. You buy as many as you can carry, because the season is short and once it's over, it's over.
Schwammerlsauce is what you do with those mushrooms when you want to feed people well without making a fuss. You cook them in butter until they give up their liquid, then you bring them back to life with a splash of white wine and a pour of cream. Parsley at the end. That's the whole recipe. It takes less than thirty minutes from cutting board to table, and when you ladle it over a plate of Semmelknödel (bread dumplings), it becomes one of the most satisfying things in the Austrian kitchen.
Gretel always said that Austrian cooking is simple food done well. Schwammerlsauce proves her right. There's nowhere to hide in a dish this straightforward. The mushrooms have to be good, the butter has to be real, and you have to let the pan do the work instead of crowding it. If you respect the ingredients and give them space, they'll reward you with a sauce that tastes like an autumn afternoon in the Salzkammergut.
Schwammerl (mushrooms) have been foraged in Austria's Alpine forests for centuries, and chanterelles, called Eierschwammerl in Austrian German, remain the most prized wild variety. Cream sauces paired with Knödel trace back to the peasant cooking traditions of Upper Austria and Salzburg, where bread dumplings were the staple that stretched a meal and soaked up whatever the forest and the cow provided. The pairing of Schwammerlsauce with Semmelknödel and a side of Preiselbeeren became a Gasthaus standard across the Alpine regions by the 19th century, a dish that sat comfortably on both farmhouse tables and bourgeois menus.
Quantity
500g
cleaned and torn or sliced
Quantity
1 medium
finely diced
Quantity
2 cloves
finely sliced
Quantity
40g
Quantity
100ml
Quantity
250ml
Quantity
100ml
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
2 tablespoons
finely chopped
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
freshly ground
Quantity
pinch
freshly grated
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| fresh chanterelles (Eierschwammerl)cleaned and torn or sliced | 500g |
| shallotfinely diced | 1 medium |
| garlicfinely sliced | 2 cloves |
| unsalted butter | 40g |
| dry white wine | 100ml |
| heavy cream (Schlagobers) | 250ml |
| beef or vegetable stock | 100ml |
| plain flour | 1 tablespoon |
| fresh flat-leaf parsleyfinely chopped | 2 tablespoons |
| lemon juice | 1 teaspoon |
| salt | to taste |
| white pepperfreshly ground | to taste |
| nutmegfreshly grated | pinch |
| Semmelknödel (bread dumplings) | for serving |
| Preiselbeeren (lingonberry compote) | for serving |
Brush the chanterelles clean with a dry pastry brush or a damp cloth. Don't run them under water. Chanterelles are sponges and they'll soak up liquid, which means they'll stew in the pan instead of browning. If they're very dirty, rinse them quickly and spread them on a clean tea towel to dry completely before cooking. Tear larger ones in half along the grain. Leave small ones whole. You want irregular, natural shapes, not uniform slices.
Melt half the butter in a wide, heavy pan over high heat. When the foam subsides and the butter smells nutty, add the mushrooms in a single layer. Don't touch them. This is the moment where most people lose their nerve and start stirring. Resist. The mushrooms need contact with the hot pan to brown, and stirring just releases their moisture too early. Let them sit for two minutes until golden on the underside, then toss once and cook another minute. They should be golden at the edges and smell like the forest floor on a warm day. Remove them to a plate.
Lower the heat to medium. Add the remaining butter to the same pan. When it melts, add the diced shallot and a pinch of salt. Cook gently for three minutes until soft and translucent, not browned. Add the sliced garlic and stir for thirty seconds, just until fragrant. Sprinkle the flour over the shallots and stir it in. Cook for one minute, stirring constantly. The flour needs this minute to lose its raw taste. It's also what will give the sauce its body without making it gluey.
Pour in the white wine all at once. It will hiss and bubble. Good. Scrape up any golden bits stuck to the bottom of the pan. Those bits are concentrated flavor. Let the wine reduce by half, about two minutes. You want the sharp alcohol smell to cook off, leaving behind a clean acidity that will balance the cream later. If you can find a Grüner Veltliner, use it. Austrian wine in an Austrian sauce makes sense.
Pour in the stock and the cream. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle simmer. Let it cook for five to six minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon. Draw your finger through the coating. If the line holds without running back together, the sauce is there. Don't rush this. Low heat, gentle bubbles. If you boil cream hard, it can break on you, and fixing a split sauce is no one's idea of a good evening.
Return the mushrooms and any juices from the plate to the sauce. Stir gently and let everything warm through for one minute. Add the lemon juice, a grating of nutmeg, and the chopped parsley. Taste for salt and white pepper. The lemon juice won't make the sauce taste lemony. It lifts the cream and brightens the mushrooms. You'll miss it if it's not there. Ladle the sauce generously over Semmelknödel and set a spoonful of Preiselbeeren on the side of the plate. The tart lingonberries cut through the richness the way nothing else can. Mahlzeit!
1 serving (about 175g)
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