Food in Context: Röschti and the Kartoffelpuffe.

For as long as potati have been cultivated in Europe, there have been Kartoffelpuffe, Germanic 'pancakes' frequently comprised of some combination of the following ingredients: potati, flour, milk, cream, cheese, egg, and grated onion. The exact ingredients vary from place to place, depending on the standard of the local region and the preference of its eaters. There are many different kinds of Kartoffelpuffe. American potato pancakes are frequently grated or julienned and bound with egg and sometimes cheese and eaten with applesauce or sour cream. Swedish rårakor consist of nothing but potato, but raggmunk (literally, 'hairdoughnut', a reference to the appearance of the grated potato) is bound with a batter of mjöl, ägg, mjölk och steks som pannkakor -- flour, eggs, milk, and 'potato sticks' fried into thin, shallow pancakes. Both are eaten with bacon or lingon (cowberry jam). Australian potato cakes consist of a slice of potato dipped in batter, fried, and salted. The Polish serve theirs stuffed with thick sauces spicy enough to make my nose run. The French fry up potato galettes made with sour cream, unsalted butter, cheese, and herbs such as rosemary.

In Germany and Austria, Kartoffelpuffe or Erdäpfelpuffe are winter foods, served on the street with apple sauce, whipped cream, hot chestnuts, and other seasonal specialties. My mother adopted this dish when she was working as a flight attendant for Lufthansa, and thus my sister and I have grown up on these German potato cakes (sans crème). The winter holidays were always full of recipe exchanges as my mother uncovered new German recipes which we swapped with Jewish family friends. For latkes are the most famous, internationally, of all potato pancakes. According to popular legend, potato cakes are symbolic of the cheese cakes served by the widow Judith to Holofernes. A simple preference for fried foods seems more likely, given that these and many other fried dishes are eaten during Chanuka (חנוכה) a festival celebrating the importance of oil to everyday life. Latkes and other oil-fried dishes are most important to the Ashkenazi Jewish families, who originated in Rhineland and settled as far east as Russia, Poland, and Hungary. These are the people my sister used to call 'Yidds' because most of them spoke Yiddish (she was too young, then, to remember the term Ashkenazi). The food has since spread throughout the Judaic community, mixing with other regional fried foods such as Sephardic boñuelos. The variety of foods available year-round has made possible all sorts of interesting combinations. Online, one can find, alongside standard recipes for leek or apple latkes, such interesting varieties as zucchini latkes with garlic and yoghurt (traditional, yes, but not for the Ashkenazi), and yam latkes with mustard seeds and curry (the origin of which I am quite unable to trace).

But now, because my Cœliac Disease has rendered wheat flour an impossibility, I must turn to what is perhaps the most intriguing and politically embroiled potato cake in modern history.

It is called Rösti, and it developed from the German Kartoffelpuffe in Bern as a breakfast pancake, but nowadays the prevalence of Standard German is such that the spelling is often changed to Röschti to better reflect the pronunciation of the dish, which is now eaten throughout Switzerland and is often considered to be Swiss national cuisine. Röschti differs from German and Austrian Kartoffelpuffe in that it does not usually use egg or flour as binding agents, though cheese may (and often is) used. Essentially, Röschti is comprised of hashed or julienned potati and oil -- lots of it, which means two things for the health-conscious cooker. First, it is recommended that the pan be oiled only immediately before placing the cakes onto the pan; second, healthy oils such as olive oil are always recommended. German food is often oily but should never seem greasy. Most Röschti includes onions, but leeks or shallots can be also be used. Other vegetables, such as mushrooms, meat bits, garlic, olives, or even rice and corn can also be added. Essentially, it is a free-form art, much like the making of omelettes or pizza. This is convenient because one can make three cakes of Röschti for different people and still accommodate all their needs -- an absolute necessity, in my household. Cheese is added only after the cake is flipped, or it will burn.

The controversy in Switzerland is over what kind of potati should be used for the making of Röschti. This extends well beyond the fierce controversies over different breeds of potati. In general, German Switzerland hashes boiled potati for Röschti; French Switzerland uses raw, which is so controversial a difference between the two places that the term 'Rösigraben' or 'barrière de rösti' has come to symbolise the whole of the difference between the two regions and all the contraversies they have had in the past. It is highly intriguing that of all the manifold differences, socially and politically, between the French and German Swiss, it is their difference in food which is emphasised as though to suggest, perhaps, that their differences are as fundamental as their everyday consumption. For, as the old adage goes, we are what we eat.