spaetzle with paprika gravy & fried shallots
satisfying your noodle-dumpling comfort cravings, german-style
A few weeks ago, a friend asked me if I had a good spaetzle recipe (I did not). Generally, I prefer to stay in my lane (pasta; Italian), but the request got me thinking: Wouldn’t it be great if I did, in fact, have a good spaetzle recipe? Better yet, wouldn’t it be great if I made it part of a broader European pasta series? Suffice it to say that the scope of Italian pasta—the shapes, the sauces, and the stories behind them—is vast, more a universe than one world. I’ve scratched little more than the surface, and I have no intention of departing from that focus. But there are several Italian-adjacent pastas that have sparked my interest over the years, and I’ve been eager to try my hand at those, too. (Not to mention Italian food traditions have been heavily influenced by the country’s central European neighbors and vice versa.) The joy of dumplings and noodles knows no bounds, and so today I’m excited to share the first installment of this mini European pasta series with none other than spaetzle (spätzle).
If you’re not already familiar, spaetzle lie somewhere between dumpling and egg noodle, irregular in shape and somehow perfectly chewy and tender at once. They’re generally associated with German cuisine, and particularly the country’s southwestern Swabian region. The German name derives from the word spatz, meaning “little sparrows” or, some say, “clumps”; still others suggest the name actually comes from the Italian spezzato, meaning “small pieces,” which was later Germanized—indeed, spaetzle are enjoyed in Italy’s Trentino–Alto Adige region, too. In Switzerland you’ll find more or less the same dish but called spätzli or chnöpfli; in Hungary, nokedli or csipetke; and in Slovenia, vaseršpacli or vodni žličniki.
Although the first recorded mention of spaetzle dates to 1725, they’re undoubtably far older. So ingrained are spaetzle in Swabian culture that the dish has been enshrined for centuries in its music, literature, and art—by the 1900s, regional poet Josef Eberle proclaimed spaetzle as “the foundation of our cuisine,” and “the glory of our country.” Exactly how they were invented is unknown, but the earliest versions were made by pinching off small pieces of dough by hand or with a spoon. Even today, the classic way to form spaetzle is by spreading a layer of batter over a wet wooden board (known as a spätzlebrett), then cutting it into thin strips and scraping them directly into salted boiling water. Traditionalists will tell you that spaetzle must be at least four times longer than they are wide, resulting in a short, spaghetti-like noodle; the more-familiar buttons, pictured here, are instead called knöpfle (so I suppose today’s recipe is technically for knöpfle!).
I’m a spaetzle fan for many reasons, and one of the biggest is their versatility. Made with flour, eggs, and milk (or water), their flavor and texture is akin to pasta, but their application is more like rice or polenta: Delicious alone, but also as a base or side for braises, stews, and gravies. In Germany, spaetzle are typically sautéed in butter and served with fresh herbs; paired with caramelized onions, cheese, breadcrumbs, bacon, and/or peas; or served alongside meats, lentils, or other proteins. In Hungary, they’re preferred as a side dish to national staples like goulash and chicken paprikash. And they’re enjoyed sweet, too, with cherries, brown butter, and cinnamon, or with apples, dried plums, or poppy seeds, among other accompaniments. Today I’m honoring my Hungarian roots with a paprikash-inspired gravy that’s warm and comforting, but still subtle enough to allow these delicious noodle-dumplings to shine. I’ve finished off the dish with a handful of crunchy fried shallots, which are my new favorite snack.
Because I want to make spaetzle a part of my regular cooking rotation, I decided to buy myself a spaetzle-maker, which made the whole process a breeze. You might notice that this isn’t so different from the passatelli iron from a few weeks ago—a simple contraption to push dough through a perforated surface. And as with the passatelli iron, you do not need a special tool to make spaetzle. Instead, you can:
Use a flat cheese grater with ¼-inch-wide holes, pour some batter on top, and use a rubber spatula or plastic bench scraper to push it back and forth into the water (a colander or large slotted spoon could work, too);
push the batter through the wide holes of a potato ricer;
use the aforementioned traditional method of spreading a layer of batter on the edge of a small, wet wooden cutting board and using a bench scraper to scrape strips of dough directly into the water;
simply drop small spoonfuls of batter into the water for a more gnocchi-like effect.
Spaetzle are also easy to store and reheat, so if you’re short on time, I recommend making this dish over two days. And although I think this recipe is delicious as-is, feel free to do as the Germans (and Hungarians, and Slovenians, and Austrians) do and throw in a protein to make it a bigger meal. Either way, this one is sure to satisfy your cozy winter cravings.
Spaetzle with Paprika Gravy & Fried Shallots
Serves 4