Topfenknödel

Topfenknödel are the dish I make when I want to explain what Mehlspeisen really means. Not just "flour foods," which is the literal translation, but the whole world of Austrian dough and batter and pastry that sits at the center of this cuisine. Americans think dessert is the last course. Austrians think dessert is the point.

These Knödel are made from Topfen, the Austrian fresh curd cheese that's drier and more crumbly than the quark you find in most German supermarkets. Mixed with eggs, a little semolina, butter, and just enough sugar to know it's there. You roll them into balls, poach them in barely trembling water, then toss them through a pan of breadcrumbs that you've toasted in far too much butter. The crumbs cling and turn the outside golden and crunchy. The inside stays soft and cool and faintly tangy from the Topfen. A dusting of powdered sugar at the table. That's the whole thing.

In my grandmother Eva's kitchen in Kent, Gretel would make these on a Tuesday afternoon like it was nothing. No occasion required. She'd press the Topfen dry in a tea towel, mix the dough with her hands, and have them poaching within the hour. I remember thinking they looked plain sitting on the board before they went into the water, just pale little balls of nothing. Then the breadcrumbs happened and they became something completely different. That's the lesson of Topfenknödel: the simplest preparations demand the most from your ingredients. There's nowhere for bad Topfen to hide.