Virgilio Forchiassin. Spazio Vivo (Living Space) Mobile Kitchen Unit. 1968

Counter Space: Design and the Modern Kitchen addresses the role of the kitchen in 20th-century life. But what does modern design mean if you don’t have a kitchen? If you live, say, alone in a wagon in the Nevada desert? Or you reside in your taxicab, and you want Brazilian food that reminds you of home?

The fascinating National Public Radio series Hidden Kitchens examines just that. Kitchen Sisters Davia Nelson and Nikki Silva have discovered an amazing variety of ways that people adapt the materials of modern life to meet their culinary needs.

For example, a group of shipyard workers uses welding rods to roast chickens. And a prison inmate found a way to make pralines in solitary confinement.

To me, the most moving story reveals the practical significance of the George Foreman Grill:

“So many immigrants, homeless people and others of limited means…have no kitchens, no legal or official place to cook…they have to sneak a kind of kitchen into their places. Crock pots, hot plates, microwaves and toaster ovens hidden under the bed. And now, the latest and safest appliance…the George Foreman Grill. It is, quite literally, a hidden kitchen.”

Dr. Adnan Tarcici. Solnar Tarcici Collapsible Solar Cooker. c.1970

Counter Space features very different kinds of mobile kitchens. For example, Dr. Adnan Tarcici’s Solnar Tarcici Collapsible Solar Cooker (1970) “hides” in a box and and uses only solar energy. And Virgilio Forchiassin’s Spazio Vivo (Living Space) Mobile Kitchen Unit (1968) can also be “hidden” by folding into a cube, and with its, built-in wheels you can take it on the road.

The series reminds me that while we may be drawn to signal design objects such as those featured in Counter Space, modern design includes any number of creative approaches to the never-ending human quest for a good, hot meal.

Counter Space closes on May 2, so don’t miss your chance to see this great show!

Moisei Ginzburg and Ignati Milinis. Narkomfin Communal House. 1930. Showing apartment bloc connected to communal building

One of the few built examples is Moscow’s Narkomfin Communal House of 1930 by Moisei Ginzburg and Ignati Milinis (featured in MoMA’s 2007 exhibition Lost Vanguard: Soviet Modernist Architecture, 1922–32). Its layout reflects the designers’ confidence that bourgeois society would inevitably transition to socialist life, albeit in stages. To that end the complex features three kitchen types in which the enclosed, individually equipped kitchens of the “K” and “2-F” type apartments progressively shrink to a vestigial (even optional) corner of the “F” type unit. Once residents had progressed to collectivity, the thinking went, meals would be organized in the central kitchen of the complex’s communal wing.

Narkomfin kitchen. Optional kitchenette for “F” type apartment. From An Archaeology of Socialism by Victor Buchli

The Narkomfin kitchens appear to be roughly the same width (8 ft.; 244 cm) as the Frankfurt Kitchen (9 ft.; 274 cm), but the latter is almost 13 feet long (396 cm) while the three Narkomfin kitchens are an abbreviated 8 feet (244 cm) in length. Sink, counter, and stove are arranged in sequence along one wall. A drawing shows built-in storage above and below, including what appears to be dispensers evocative of Schütte-Lihotzky’s aluminum bins. The linear sequence and absence of seating suggest an industrial production line. Indeed, this might have been envisioned as a mass-produced unit, to be slotted into any of the apartment types.

Following the Narkomfin logic, for all its progressive aspirations the Frankfurt Kitchen would have been considered socially backward, a bourgeois relic destined to be transformed into communal eating. It didn’t quite work out that way, but the idea encourages us to question the assumption that the private, nuclear-family kitchen is “natural.”

Victor Buchli’s An Archaeology of Socialism (Berg, 1999) has an in-depth study of Narkomfin, and Richard Pare’s The Lost Vanguard: Russian Modernist Architecture 1922–1932 (Monacelli, 2007) is a great resource that features photographs of the complex today. For Schütte-Lihotzky’s thoughts on communal kitchens, see Juliet Kinchin’s “Passages from Why I Became an Architect by Margarete Schütte-Lihotzky,” published in W 86th, February 9, 2011. For a meticulous comparison of kitchen designs published in 1932 by Czech architect and designer Karel Tiege, see Eric Dluhosch’s translation of The Minimum Dwelling (MIT, 2002). All are available at the MoMA Library.

Nathaniel Longcope and Aidan O’Connor test out the live stream

As video-streaming technology becomes more ubiquitous, we’ve been antsy to try a walkthrough of an exhibition at MoMA. Department of Architecture and Design curator Juliet Kinchin and curatorial assistant Aidan O’Connor have been brave enough to be the first.

Join us Tuesday, February 22, at 1:30 p.m. EST, as they lead a virtual walkthrough of the Counter Space: Design and the Modern Kitchen exhibition. The walkthrough should last about an hour and will be archived for viewing later.

Victor Samra will be monitoring our Facebook and Twitter accounts, so feel free to post questions during the event. Have questions before the event for the curators? Please comment below. We’ll take time during the event to have Juliet and Aidan respond to the audience.

The planned route for the walkthrough

Thanks to the Audio/Visual crew at MoMA for making this happen.

Roberto Sambonet (Italian, 1924–1995). Center Line Set of Cookware. 1964. Stainless steel. Manufactured by Sambonet S.p.A., Vercelli, Italy. Gift of the manufacturer, 1972

Several exciting things are happening now in the world of Counter Space—time for an update!

First, the exhibition has been extended, and we’re so glad it will endure with us through the winter. The closing date is now May 2, so you have lots more time to come visit if you haven’t already, or to come again at your leisure—no need for frenzy.

Looking for an appropriate (and filling) way to celebrate this good news? Our second announcement is a special event happening this Thursday evening called Eat, Drink, MoMA. Chef Michael Romano is joining our friend, chef Lynn Bound, to present an amazing three-course gourmet Italian dinner at Cafe 2, accompanied by a gallery talk and cocktail reception. It’s a wonderful chance to celebrate the Italian design featured in the exhibition—from Bialetti’s Moka Express (c. 1930) to Gino Colombini’s kitchen pail (1957), Snaidero’s mobile kitchen (1968), and Marco Zanuso’s kitchen scale (1969). Tickets are still available, and Juliet Kinchin and I will certainly be there!

Finally, we are proud to report that our Counter Space book is now available! Starting with the familiar cover image, this book captures the highlights of the exhibition, echoing the multidisciplinary reach of the show. Architecture and design (including the Frankfurt Kitchen) are complemented by photography, drawings, paintings, sculpture, and film stills—all from MoMA’s collection. It’s a must-read for kitchen enthusiasts, not to mention an awesome gift…

Here's the cover of our Counter Space book, which was beautifully designed by Triboro. Check it out!

From left: Radford’s Details of Building Construction, 1911; Frankfurt Kitchen, 1926-27; Architectural Graphic Standards, 1941; Architectural Graphic Standards, 1951

It’s 1926 and, like Margarete Schütte-Lihotzky, you want to design a functional kitchen. If you’re in the U.S. or Great Britain, you might then turn to a standards manual. At the time, there was Radford’s Details of Building Construction (1911). Then, five years after Schütte-Lihotzky’s Frankfurt Kitchen, two underemployed architects created an expanded manual more suited to 20th-century life. Their Architectural Graphic Standards (1932) has been continuously revised ever since.

Unfortunately the authors were clearly unfamiliar with the Frankfurt Kitchen, Taylorism, or Christine Frederick. For example, Radford’s shows one plan and details for a “conveniently arranged house-keeping workshop” (above left).

The 1932 Architectural Graphic Standards has no layouts at all. While one might not expect this of a detailing book, numerous plates are devoted to greenhouses, stables, and a decathlon’s worth of sports facilities. The 1941 and 1951 editions introduce several layouts, such as the “small” kitchen (above right), in which key elements are somewhat more efficiently arranged.

The 1951 edition established the idea of “work centers,” with “ideal locations” for range, sink, and storage (above right). But with virtually no difference between it and the 1941 layout, how ideal is it? In subsequent editions the work center idea became standard, showing distance ratios between elements—but not optimum distances or functional relationships.

In terms of these standards, then, Schütte-Lihotzky was decades ahead of her time. Kitchens today are more technologically complex, but their basic functions—and human considerations—remain the same.

For more on the history of Architectural Graphic Standards, see George Barnett Johnston, Drafting Culture: A Social History of Architectural Graphic Standards (MIT, 2008).

After viewing the exhibition Counter Space: Design and the Modern Kitchen, our team at MoMA was inspired by the Frankfurt Kitchen’s impact on our modern-day experiences of preparing and sharing food in our homes. We wanted to create a program that highlighted much of the creativity inherent in today’s kitchens—both in design and cuisine—while exploring the various artistic interpretations of cooking and food in contemporary culture. Working with exhibition curator Juliet Kinchin, Art Food Café executive chef Lynn Bound, pastry chef Cristina Nastasi, and Cafe 2 general manager Tracy Wilson, we pooled our different expertise to present the Kitchen Culture event.

Margarete Schütte-Lihotzky. Frankfurt Kitchen from the Ginnheim-Höhenblick Housing Estate, Frankfurt am Main, Germany (reconstruction). 1926–27. Various materials. The Museum of Modern Art. Gift of Joan R. Brewster in memory of her Husband George W.W. Brewster, by exchange and the Architecture & Design Purchase Fund

Through a series of engaging performances and exquisite courses, we presented over 100 participants with a truly artistic culinary experience. General manager Tracy Wilson provided us with a demonstration of some innovative napkin-folding, while performance artist Nicholas Dumit Estevez employed his own body as the primary ingredient for several performative recipes. The evening ended with musician Robert Rotifer performing his musical ode to the Frankfurt Kitchen and its creator, Margarete Schütte-Lihotzky. This spectacular evening of events was punctuated with several courses of delicious German cuisine, compliments of chefs Lynn and Cristina. A few weeks ago, we gave you a taste of this event with some images. Now take a look at the amazing video!
Special thanks to Beth Harris, Colleen Brogan, and Plowshares Media for creating this great video.

Executive Chef Lynn Bound of the Art Food Cafés. All photographs by Paula Court

"Counter Space" Curator, Juliet Kinchin (Department of Architecture and Design)

Tracy Wilson, General Manager, Art Food Cafés

Kitchen Culture guests participate in the historic napkin-folding workshop

Performance artist Nicolas Dumit Estevez presents required equipment and ingredients in "Good Enough to Eat"

"Good Enough to Eat" in process...

The culmination of "Good Enough to Eat" - Nicolas as a living sundae

Chef Lynn and the Café 2 team prepare dinner, inspired by a 1925 German cookbook, for over 100 guests

Rotifer performs his Frankfurt Kitchen song, a tribute to architect Grete Schütte-Lihotzky who was a friend of his grandmother

Results from Tracy's napkin-folding workshop, alongside our competition-winning dessert: Andrea Bell's plum cake

Here is a slideshow of photos from our hit Counter Space public program, Kitchen Culture. Over 100 people joined us for an incredible dinner in October, inspired by a 1925 German cookbook and prepared by Executive Chef Lynn Bound and the Cafe 2 team.

Kitchen Culture event menu

Before our historically delicious meal was concluded with Andrea Bell’s competition-winning pflaumenkuchen, we were also treated to a napkin-folding workshop by Tracy Wilson; a live performance of Rotifer’s song “Frankfurt Kitchen“; and “Good Enough to Eat,” artist Nicolas Dumit Estevez‘s play on cooking show instruction. The artist explains this rousing parody: “[E]dible as well as inedible ingredients are used to produce a dish that includes the performer’s body. Toes, thighs, neck, and buttocks are carefully prepared into an elaborate recipe of an onanistic nature that serves one.”

Thank you again to our colleagues and participants who helped realize this unique and memorable event!

One of a series of WWII propaganda posters in MoMA's collection encouraging the British home front to raise rabbits at home on a diet of kitchen scraps...and then eat them. Poster designed by Frederick H. K. Henrion (British, 1914–1990), c. 1941

Everyone likes rabbits. Their fluffy tails. Their twitchy noses. From Peter Rabbit to Roger Rabbit, Bugs Bunny to the Easter Bunny, Watership Down to David Lynch’s surreal 2002 series Rabbits, the creatures have been anthropomorphized constantly in literature, film, and popular culture. Because they are so widely appealing, we feel extremely uncomfortable when we see rabbits encounter cooking pots, like in Bill Forsyth’s Local Hero, or at the hands of Glenn Close as manic bunny boiler in Fatal Attraction. Small wonder then that during World War II the British Government had to persuade reluctant consumers about the nutritional and money-saving benefits of raising rabbits for food.

Two posters designed by Frederick H. K. Henrion, c. 1941

There are three rabbit posters (above) from this very campaign now on view in Counter Space. They are displayed in a area focusing on the wartime kitchen, part of a large group of WWII propaganda posters for the British War Office/Ministry of Food. We have noticed that visitors seem drawn to these works of graphic design, which also include Abram Games’s famous Grow Your Own Food poster depicting a so-called victory garden. But the rabbits are where people linger—pointing and posing for pictures, sometimes smiling but often showing real surprise, pity, or aversion.

Though not a mainstream protein source in the US, rabbits—domesticated animals famous for their reproductive capabilities—are not a surprising choice as a practical food source. (In recent years, many articles have addressed the “other other white meat,” providing recipes and highlighting rabbits’ part in sustainable/local/do-it-yourself food movements.) As the poster above/left explains, rabbits are easy to keep as part of a domestic food cycle, consuming lawn mowings and kitchen scraps. They are also relatively clean, and quiet. The poster above/right provides suggestions for ways to complete the cycle.

Left: "A typical middle class English family's food rations for a week sitting on the worktop of the kitchen cabinet." 1945. Source: Google/LIFE Photo Archive. Photograph by Bob Landry. Right: “Young girl butcher in town of Plymouth, hanging up rabbits which have just come in from the market, more people in Britain are eating rabbit to supplement their limited meat ration." Plymouth, England. 1941. Source: Google/LIFE Photo Archive. Photograph by David E. Scherman

During World War II, posters like these gave engaging and informative graphic expression to a very real crisis. In Britain, food rationing began in 1940, with redeemable tokens issued through ration books. (For some nonessential foods, like sweets, rationing continued through 1953.) National health, critical to national strength, was a major focus of government attention. In Britain this was the concern of the Ministry of Food, which was created immediately after war was declared in 1939. Pamphlets, radio broadcasts, and posters aimed to help families make the most of their food rations, in part by overcoming squeamishness and the stigmatization of rabbit as a poverty food. Just as wartime designers and manufacturers were forced to creatively make use of non-rationed materials, like glass, families adjusted to raising and consuming non-rationed rabbit meat.

The rabbit campaign was not limited to Britain. A January 1943 release by the Department of the Interior’s Fish and Wildlife Service, beginning with the appeal “Meet the meat shortage,” explained the importance and pragmatism of rabbit consumption in the U.S.:

“With food as vital now as bullets, the Service is attempting to stimulate the increased production of rabbit meat to replace meats which are now short or will be included in the rationing category. Since they have no objectionable features, rabbits may be kept in the city backyard as well as on the farm, in fact, wherever poultry raising is permitted. Their hutches can be constructed of scrap lumber, used poultry wire, crates, and like material that can be obtained at little or no cost. Clean table scraps, garden waste, lawn clippings, palatable weeds, and small limbs trimmed from fruit trees may be utilized to supplement their regular rations.”

The Fish and Wildlife Service even operated a Rabbit Experiment Station in Fontana, California, which publicized for emulation the raising of food-rabbits overseas (“England has about a quarter million producing does; in Germany there are between 15 and 20 million…while the Italian householder is required to maintain at least one doe”). The Department of Agriculture produced leaflets with rabbit recipes, while Americans were assured that “the meat of the domestic rabbit is pearly white, fine-grained, nutritious, palatable, and may be served throughout the year.”

Poster for the exhibition Off the Ration, held at the Regent’s Park Zoo in London during World War II, at the entrance to a London Underground station. Photograph by Peter Ray, from the circulating MoMA exhibition New Posters from England (1943–44)

LIFE magazine contributed to the cause with a 1943 “war living” article titled “Rabbits: Raising Them for Meat Is Now a Helpful Patriotic Hobby.” The opening sentence stated, bluntly, “Domestic rabbits are one of the few pets which can be enjoyed dead or alive.” In the U.S., commercial rabbit-raising had already begun to pick up steam before the war, during the Depression. (Popular Science estimated $5 million in revenue from this hobby-turned-industry.)

Rabbits were also the subject of organized events: in the U.S., breeder shows grew in popularity, joining overseas gatherings like Britain’s War Time Rabbit Show at the Bethnal Green Men’s Institute (December 30, 1940) and public “Off the Ration” exhibitions, such as the one advertised at an Underground station in the poster seen to the left.

While rationing may seem a distant extreme to many of us who are able to enjoy the vast array of food publicly available today, the subject of our rabbit posters remains relevant. Public health concerns, often diet-related, continue to increase, especially in the U.S. And frugality and nutrition have become key global issues, heightened by economic recession. Activists like Chef Jamie Oliver are already looking back to wartime rationing for lessons on healthy and affordable eating, while the media continues to question ingrained reservations about eating rabbit. As a result, we are happy to be showing in Counter Space these striking rabbit posters, which, we believe, have not been displayed since they came to the Museum during World War II.

For more on the history of rationing, see Eating for Victory: Food Rationing and the Politics of Domesticity by Amy Bentley (University of Illinois Press, 1998) and Austerity in Britain: Rationing, Controls, and Consumption, 1939–1955 by Ina Zweiniger-Bargielowska (Oxford University Press, 2000).

Hungarian embroidered wall hanging. Translation from Hungarian: “You must do everything at the right time.” Collection Juliet Kinchin. Photograph: Roger Griffith

There’s always been a clock in my kitchen. I can’t imagine otherwise. I bet there’s been one in yours too. I’m not talking about the digital ones on the coffee maker, stove, microwave, etc. that I don’t even bother to set—I’m talking about the clock that’s been in charge of keeping time everywhere I’ve ever lived—my kitchen clock.

These days it’s the Plywood Clock, made in Japan by Lemnos, Inc. To quote the website for the MoMA gift shop, where I got it, “This wall clock features Seiko precision movement, clean graphics, an easy-to-read face, and a distinctive plywood frame.” And it’s all true. It is a great clock, and it’s perfect in my kitchen, but…

Max Bill. Kitchen Clock with Timer. 1956–57.

Ever since we hung Max Bill’s “Kitchen Clock with Timer” on a gallery wall in the exhibition Counter Space: Design and the Modern Kitchen, I find myself coveting it, with its perfect shade of robin’s egg blue and its elegant teardrop shape—like a perfect drop of time.

Now that’s a kitchen clock.

Just by looking at it you can tell it’s efficient, certain, reliable, and responsible. And what’s more, you get the sense that secretly it’s somehow forgiving—a wonderful quality in any clock, let alone the one in charge. And it is in charge, you just know it is. You can feel it, and not because it throws its weight around—no, not at all. It doesn’t have to. It hangs up there, in its splendor, in its quiet understated elegance, ticking away, steady and sure, keeping and marking time, an ideal example of perfect form and moral purpose though design, in the spirit of the Swiss and German Werkbund; Bill was member of both.

Counter Space: Design and the Modern Kitchen installation photograph. October 2010. Photo: Jonathan Musikar

As a young man, Bill studied at the Bauhaus in Dessau under Wassily Kandinsky, Paul Klee, and Oskar Schlemmer, to name just a few artists. He was the first director, and a co-founder with Inge Aicher-Scholl and Otl Aicher, of the Ulm School of Design, Hochschule für Gestaltung – HfG Ulm. Bill was a painter, sculptor, industrial and graphic designer, typographer, theorist, teacher, essayist, and architect, and he designed this most excellent, singular Kitchen Clock with Timer,  which you can see (and covet) in the Counter Space exhibition, on view at MoMA through March 14.

]]> http://moma.org/wp/inside_out/2010/11/19/the-perfect-kitchen-clock/feed/ 2 http://moma.org/wp/inside_out/2010/11/10/what-shall-i-cook-the-dessert-competition/ http://moma.org/wp/inside_out/2010/11/10/what-shall-i-cook-the-dessert-competition/#comments Wed, 10 Nov 2010 15:03:10 +0000 Juliet Kinchin Counter Space]]> http://moma.org/wp/inside_out/?p=10164

Contestants competing in the Pillsbury Bake Off baking contest in the Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, New York. 1949. Source: Google/LIFE Photo Archive. Photograph by Lisa Larsen

At our recent Kitchen Culture event, a public program in conjunction with the Counter Space exhibition, over 100 people enjoyed an amazing dinner prepared by Executive Chef Lynn Bound of the Art Food cafés and the Cafe 2 team. (Video of the dinner and accompanying entertainment, plus an interview with Chef Lynn, to come in future posts!) The delicious meal was inspired by a recipe book, shown here, with significant ties to the centerpiece of our exhibition, the Frankfurt Kitchen.

Thessa Gretschmar's What Shall I Cook? (1925). Another piece of the New Frankfurt

What Shall I Cook? is a cookbook published in Frankfurt in 1925, the year the ambitious modernization initiative known as the New Frankfurt (1925–30) began. Written by a woman named Thessa Gretschmar, this compilation of balanced, nutritious meal plans is arranged by the 52 weeks of the year and based on affordable ingredients and seasonal produce. It was published by the Frankfurt Housewives’ Association, which also maintained a regular afternoon Kitchen Radio program on the Southwest German Radio network. Radio reception was one of many innovative features built into the 15,000 modern dwelling units that made up the 15 new public housing estates in the New Frankfurt. Like the electric lighting, gas stoves, and running hot water provided for the Frankfurt Kitchens in these homes, radio provided significant modern lifestyle benefits for working-class individuals and families.

Following our 1920s Frankfurt-inspired dinner, we enjoyed a reader-submitted dessert, a wonderful plum cake that came out of our asking the public: What shall we cook? Our open dessert competition, posted online back in September, called for German recipes of pre-1950 origin that would be suitable for adaptation to our large guest list.

Today we wanted to congratulate the winners of our competition, and to share with you some of their recipes and corresponding stories. We were pleasantly surprised that many of our contestants submitted personal family anecdotes along with historical context for these recipes. Our special thanks to Cathy Kaufman, Chair of the Culinary Historians of New York, who helped our selection as a special guest juror. Without her historical expertise we would not have known, for example, that corn flakes (developed in the 1890s in Michigan) appeared in Germany around the same time as the Frankfurt Kitchen! (They feature in the runner-up recipe, Amy’s Famous Kugel, which we also tasted in modified petit four form.) Here are our top picks, and below the stories/recipes in their own words. Enjoy!

Winner:

Andrea Bell / Erna Welp’s Pflaumenkuchen (Plum Cake) (1)

Runner up:

Amy Stern / Amy’s Famous Kugel (2)

Honorable Mentions:

Bettina Gronning / Swaebischer Kaesekuchen (3)

Mali Mayer / Auf-Lauf (4)

Jenny Kaschell / Kalter Hund (5)

Angelika Rinnhofer / Chilibread (Nuremberg Gingerbread) (6)

Susanne Goetz / Tutti-Frutti (7)

Chef Arno / Mohr im Hemd (8)

Kirk Simon / Nana’s Fruit Bundt (9)

Andreas Lehmann / Arme Ritter (10)

1. Erna Welp’s Pflaumenkuchen (Andrea Bell writes…)

I hope you enjoy one of my family’s truly treasured recipes.

This is my great-grandmother’s recipe for pflaumenkuchen, or traditional German plum cake. It’s a dessert my great-grandmother brought with her when she emigrated from Germany to the U.S., and then passed down to my grandmother, and then to her son’s wife, my mother. In fact, this recipe is such a part of the fabric of my family that my mother planted an Italian prune plum tree in our backyard so that the fruit would be on hand every autumn. It’s important that this cake be made with the Italian prune plum, because they kind of caramelize and melt into a beautiful fuchsia color, which the buttery crumb around it absorbs. Luckily, we’re in the middle of the Italian prune plum’s short season, which will last through October.

15 Italian prune plums, halved and stone removed, but not peeled
1 stick butter, plus 1/4 cup shortening
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla
Pinch salt
1 cup flour
1 1/2 tbsp milk

Preheat the oven to 325° F and grease a 9 x 13″ baking pan and set aside. With an electric mixer, cream together the sugar and butter/shortening until well combined. Add in the rest of the ingredients except the plums, and mix until combined. Spread the batter out on the bottom of the baking pan (it will be a relatively thin layer, so use your spatula to spread it around and cover the entire bottom). Place the plum halves skin-side-up in rows on top of the batter.

Bake for one hour, until it passes the toothpick test. Cool before serving, and enjoy!

2. Amy’s Famous Kugel (Amy Stern writes…)

Kugel is a baked pudding or casserole, most commonly made from egg noodles (Loksehn kugel) or potatoes, though at times can be made of cabbage, zucchini, or spinach. The name of the dish comes from the Germanic root meaning “ball” or “globe,” thus the Yiddish name likely originated as a reference to the round, puffed-up shape of the original dishes (compare to German Gugelhupf, a type of ring-shaped cake). Nowadays, however, kugels are often baked in square pans. Kugels are a staple in Jewish cooking and can be served as a dessert or side dish, the result of many immigrant families having ties to Eastern Europe where the dish originated.

The first kugels were made from bread and flour and were savory rather than sweet. About 800 years ago, cooks in Germany replaced bread mixtures with noodles and eventually eggs were incorporated. The addition of cottage cheese and milk created a custard-like consistency, which is common in today’s dessert dishes. In Poland, Jewish homemakers added raisins, cinnamon, and sweet farmer’s cheese to their noodle kugel recipes.

I first made this recipe, which was passed on to me from my mom, when I was a 23-year-old bride back in 1982. Unfortunately I made it for shiva—the period of mourning in the Jewish religion observed after someone dies, in this case my father-in-law. After 28 years of marriage, my husband’s family just can’t get enough of this recipe, and no matter how much I make, the platter is always empty by the end of the meal. Additionally, though I have written the recipe for many other family members over the years and it’s simple to make, I am still asked to bring this dish to numerous family occasions throughout the year.

Serves 20:

1 lb. PA Dutch Homestyle Egg Noodles or other wide egg noodle, cooked and drained
1 lb. cream cheese (2 8-oz. packages, Philadelphia Brand preferred)—should be very soft; let sit out several hours prior to cooking (this is critical)
1/2 lb. butter—should be very soft; let sit out several hours prior to cooking (this is critical)
Salt
1 1/4 cup sugar
6 extra-large eggs
1 qt whole milk (do not substitute)
1 tsp vanilla
2–4 cups Kellogg’s Corn Flakes, crushed (for topping)
1/2 cup cinnamon sugar (for topping)
Aluminum roaster (deep; I use one big enough for a turkey)

Beat cheese and butter well with electric mixer (stand mixer works best) on low, and add a pinch of salt. Add sugar gradually, and beat until fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, and beat for 10 minutes. Fold mixture into noodles carefully. Pour into buttered large pan. Pour and fold in milk very carefully. Bake at 350 for one and a half hours.

At the end of the first hour, take kugel out of the oven and sprinkle with crushed cornflakes, followed by an even sprinkling of cinnamon sugar over the cornflake crumbs. Return kugel to the oven for remaining half hour; the sugar will caramelize and you will have a delicious streusel-like crunchy topping.

Kugel can be served immediately or cooled and then refrigerated or frozen.

3. Swaebischer Kaesekuchen (Bettina Gronning writes…)

My mother is German and loves her desserts, fruit, and coffee. Growing up, our kitchen wafted with her rumtopf: a crock filled with fruit and rum that marinates for a few months and, once ready, produces plump, aromatic, and boozy fruit that we spooned over our ice cream or had in a dish with a nice, fat dollop of whipped cream.

While rumtopf takes months, another German specialty, cheesecake, can be made in a few hours and really pays tribute to this contrast of fruit and crème, and also pays a sort of homage to my mother and her continual joy and delight in the simple pleasures of a good creamy fat with fruit.

Cheesecakes have existed since ancient times, but the German Cheesecake is unique in that it has a classic pastry crust, and uses a cheese called quark, which has much less fat than most other cheeses used in cheesecakes. Quark is closely related to fromage frais or cottage cheese because it is not aged, but it does not contain rennet. Truth be told, my mother really hated quark on its own—I have a feeling its lighter fat content wasn’t what she craved (see above!)—but it makes a light filling that goes well with the buttery crust. In this cheesecake there is a nice pastry crust, plenty of eggs, and, of course, the boozed-up raisins can be added in the mix.

For the dough:

300 grams flour
150 grams butter
80 grams sugar
Pinch of salt
1 egg

For the cheese filling (or, topping):

6 eggs, separated
250 grams sugar
750 grams quark
1/8 liter soured whole cream
Pinch salt
1 lemon
50 grams cornstarch
100 grams butter, clarified
80 grams raisins (soaked in a dish of rum and briefly warmed, and then strained and dried)

Knead the dough ingredients into a firm dough, chill, and let rest for about one hour. Beat the six egg yolks and the sugar until slightly foamy. Add the quark, the sour cream, and the pinch of salt. Then, add the juice and the grated skin of the one lemon, as well as the cornstarch, the raisins, and the clarified butter. At the very end, add in the beaten egg whites.

Line the bottom of a baking tray with parchment paper, and top with the dough. Top this with the cheese mixture and bake at 425° F for 40 minutes or so. Then, take the cake out of the oven for 10 minutes. After that, put it again in the oven and continue to bake for 10 minutes longer.

4. Auf-Lauf (Mali Mayer writes…)      

This recipe comes from The Settlement Cookbook (first edition 1903). The Settlement House in St. Louis was an organization that taught German immigrant women how to cook American and be American. At the same time the women taught the instructors how to make some of their homeland recipes that the men (husbands?) still wanted. The members of the board of the Settlement House (all men) would not support the publication of the cookbook. So advertisements were sold to cover the $18 printing costs. Sales of the book were so great that the proceeds helped purchase a new building several years later for the organization. The cookbook was compiled by Mrs. Simon Kander (my maternal grandmother’s aunt) and Mrs. Henry Schoenfeld. A facsimile of the first edition was printed in 1987 by Gramercy Publishing Company. Many editions have been published since 1903, with the last appearing in 1995.

Line a pudding dish with crushed macaroons.

Cover this with fruit (i.e., apples, peaches, or apricots) and sugar.

Put on the back of the stove to heat.

Mix six egg yolks, six tablespoons sugar, six egg whites (beaten until frothy), and some chopped almonds. Pour over fruit.

Bake at 350° until top “sponge” is cooked through.

5. Kalter Hund (Jenny Kaschell writes…)

This is an old recipe of a unique dessert known in Germany, especially in the former German Democratic Republic (GDR). I used to have it as a kid in my grandpa’s garden. Also I remember one time when my mum actually made it at home. Unfortunately these days not too many people prepare it at home anymore, even though it is popular. This recipe is adapted from an old GDR baking book.

The dessert is called Kalter Hund, which translates to “cold dog.” It is sometimes also known as Lukullus. It is a cold dessert made of a chocolate mixture and butter cookies. I don’t know much of the historical background of the dessert except that it was “invented” around 1948, when butter wasn’t given out in rations anymore. Fatty food was more available, and people had no problems with overweight, so they enjoyed their buttery/creamy/rich desserts. Old people as well as kids love this dessert. It is sweet and rich. There are various recipes for the chocolate mixture and one should take care to make even layers with the cookies to balance the richness of this dessert. Coffee or rum can be added for more interesting flavors. Basically it is like a cookie/chocolate cake served in slices. The slices are not to be cut too thinly or it will break. To be served cold.

Serves 10 (one loaf pan):

300 grams coconut oil
125 grams confectioner’s sugar
45 grams cocoa powder (high quality for good flavor)
2–3 eggs
2 packs of German butter cookies (leibnitz)
Flavors can be added: either rum, coffee, bitter almond, or lemon

Melt the coconut oil over low heat. Mix sugar, cocoa powder, and eggs together. Incorporate the cooling coconut oil into the sugar mixture (drop by drop).

Place plastic wrap/parchment paper in the loaf pan and assemble the cake: start with a layer of chocolate mixture, and continue with alternating layers of cookies and chocolate mixture. End with a layer of cookies. Cool for two hours, unmold, and cut into 1/2-inch slices (top could be decorated with lines/cakecomb waves or suchlike).

6. “Chilibread” (Nuremberg Gingerbread) (Angelika Rinnhofer writes…)

This is my mom’s recipe for Nuremberg gingerbread. Her mom, who had found it in a cookbook, passed it on to her. I am from Nuremberg and moved to the U.S. in 1995. Last year, I converted my family’s recipe into my American version by substituting all the traditional ingredients with spices and components indigenous to America, adding cocoa, candied chili pepper, and honey and maple syrup from NY. I call this version “Chilibread.” Some of my friends in Nuremberg are now using my recipe (or parts of it) for making gingerbread. It can be eaten right away or stored for months in air-tight containers.

Nuremberg is famous for its gingerbread. As one of the most northern extensions of one of the silk routes, Nuremberg became a wealthy city during the Middle Ages. Spices from Asia were sold at its market, and before long, in 1395, the first commercial gingerbread bakery opened in the center of the city. Since then, Nuremberg gingerbread has become a main export article. Family-run bakeries in Nuremberg praise themselves on having their own “secret” recipes, each one better than the next. Commercial bakeries start making the specialty at the end of August to be sold mainly from fall until Christmas. It is a typical holiday treat, served with Gluehwein (mulled spiced wine), coffee, or black tea with rum.

5 eggs
2+ cups confectioner’s sugar (2.205 cups, to be exact)
2+ cups unpeeled milled almonds
2 tbsp candied lemon peel, chopped
2 tbsp candied orange peel, chopped
zest of a lemon
1 tsp grated ginger
1 tbsp cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp cardamom
1/2 tsp mace
1 packet baking wafers (Oblaten), if available

Chocolate icing:
6 oz sugar
4 1/2 oz baking chocolate
0.4 cups water

Combine eggs and sugar and beat in a stand mixer for one minute. Add spices, citrus peels and zest, and almonds.

If available, spread this dough on baking wafers, about 1/2 inch thick, and place on a cookie sheet. Let stand to dry for several hours. If Oblaten are not available, line the cookie sheet with wax paper before placing the cookies on it. Bake in oven on 220° F for 25-30 minutes.

Ice the cookies while they are still warm, and put on peeled and halved almonds for decoration while icing is still warm. Place the gingerbread cookies in the still-warm oven (remaining warmth from baking); this will help dry the icing.

(For the icing: heat up chocolate in microwave; needs to be completely melted. Bring water and sugar to a boil and keep simmering for 5–6 minutes. Using a whisk, infuse water/sugar mixture slowly into hot, melted chocolate in a very thin stream.)

7. Tutti-Frutti (Susanne Goetz writes…)

This recipe is from an old German cookbook from the town of Vohenstrauss, where my mother grew up. Both my sister and I also own a copy and use it frequently (maybe not the section on how to raise chickens or care for people dying from consumption). An interesting aspect of the recipe is that it uses leftover baked goods (not stale, but could be a day or two old), pointing at a more common frugality in former times. How appropriate for the current recession! A typical German aspect is also that it a comparatively nourishing and filling approach to a dessert. The recipe dates from the 1910s or earlier.

Leftover baked goods (sweet), such as challah, babka, poundcake, or ladyfingers.
Soft raw fruit or canned/preserved fruit
A few tablespoons of rum or fruit juice
Vanilla custard

Moisten the baked goods with the rum or fruit juice and layer them with the fruit in a glass bowl. Cover with the cooled-down vanilla custard and decorate with fruit or whipped cream.

8. Mohr im Hemd (Chef Arno writes…)

In the 1880s, a circus in Vienna featured a North African comic who wore a brilliant white shirt. The Viennese were delighted by the man’s charm, and by his unusual (for 1880s Vienna) coloring. One pastry chef promptly created a hot chocolate pudding with whipped cream that he called “Negro in the White Shirt”; under this name it became a staple in Austrian restaurants for many years.

Serves 30:

1 lb butter, room temperature
1 lb Baker’s chocolate, softened
1/2 lb sugar
24 egg yolks

24 egg whites
1/2 lb sugar
1 lb chopped almonds.
Butter and sugar for molds
5 and 1/3 cups heavy cream (36%)

Cream butter, chocolate, and sugar. Add yolks gradually and cream together.

Beat egg whites. Add sugar and beat to soft meringue. Fold into creamed chocolate, and fold in almonds. Butter suitable molds and sprinkle with sugar. Fill batter into molds and steam until done according to mold size. Whip cream and serve with warm pudding.

9. Nana’s Fruit Bundt (Kirk Simon writes…)

My grandmother grew up in farm country on the German/Austria border. Born in 1898, she was sent to American, alone, at the age of 14. She lived to be 94. She met her future husband on that boat and they eventually opened an inn—The Quakertown Inn in Bucks County, PA—which served traditional German food, basically large cuts of meat and overcooked vegetables. She made many types of cookies and cake, which were traditional and excellent. She would often make a crescent cookie/pastry filled with fruit or nut paste. No recipes were written down, but as a boy I would often help her. I still bake her recipes as best as I can remember.

Serves 10–12:

For the fruit filling/topping: On the stove, lightly cook an apple, two apricots, two plums, a good handful of chopped hazelnuts, and some raisins—sauté in a pat of butter, a splash of brandy, a teaspoon of sugar, and a teaspoon of current jelly. Let cool.

2.5 sticks of butter (All of her recipes use full fat European butter—please don’t deviate or ever use the word cholesterol!)
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
1/2 cup milk
1 tsp vanilla
3 cups flour
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp fresh nutmeg
1/2 tsp baking soda

Cream the butter and sugar (She would always use her hands, and it would take 10 or 15 minutes. As I was told, the heat from your hands melts the butter.) Mix in the eggs, milk, and vanilla.

In another bowl—the “dry bowl”—measure out 3 cups flour. Mix in cinnamon, nutmeg, and baking soda. Using a mixer, add the dry mixture to the wet bowl. Stir in half the fruit mixture. Pour into a buttered/floured bundt pan. Bake at 350° F for an hour. Test with toothpick (it would usually take about 10 minutes more). Remove from pan. Coat with powered sugar. Nana would put the sugar in a colander and tap. Serve each slice with a teaspoon of the remaining fruit.

10. Arme Ritter (Andreas Lehmann writes…)

Literally “poor knights”—probably because these knights are fried—this dessert tastes great with stewed fruit (plums, etc.) or ice cream (which was not available in 1949). This recipe was very popular after WWII (and still is).

Serves 4:

8 slices of old (!) toast-bread
4 cups milk
1 vanilla bean
Grated lemon peel (organic)
2 tsp sugar
8 eggs
Breadcrumbs
Butter
Sugar and cinnamon to sprinkle the poor knights

Bring milk and vanilla bean plus some grated lemon peel and one teaspoon of sugar to boil, and let cool down. Remove the vanilla bean and put the bread slices into this milk mixture. Beat the eggs, and put one slice after the other into egg and afterwards into breadcrumbs. Cook the bread slices in butter on both sides until golden-brown, and sprinkle with the sugar-and-cinnamon mix.