Germany’s Unrivaled Bread Culture
On a chilly April morning, I sat in the tasting room of an renowned old Alsatian winery, under the spell of an enchanting rose-and-peach-inflected, off-dry Gewurztraminer from vines right outside the winery’s door. I chatted with the person pouring the wine. They asked what brought me to Alsace. I answered that I had just studied German bread baking at the Akademie Deutsches Bäckerhandwerk. “I’ve never thought about German bread before,” they responded. We were less than 30 kilometers from the German border, in a town with a German name, at a winery with a German name. But they’d never even thought about German bread before.
In my experience as a bread-lover, home baker, and recipe writer, I’ve learned that people either adore German bread and baking or they know nothing about it — except Brezeln (pretzels). Although I’m a stalwart German wine lover with a cellar full of Riesling, Spätburgunder, Chardonnay, Sekt, etc. to prove it, I’d argue that bread is the premier fermented product from German-speaking places. Ask most German expats what they miss most about their homeland: The answer is usually Brot.
Intangible Cultural Heritage
From the densest Westphalian Pumpernickel to the lightest Swabian Seelen, there is a bread for every mood — more than 3,000 types. But more than the particular breads, it’s the culture surrounding bread that intrigues. Bread is a critical part of the nation’s identity. In 2014, UNESCO declared German bread part of the world’s “intangible cultural heritage,” citing its quality, diversity, and tradition. German wine culture also received this status, but not until 2021.
This passion for great bread extends to the other umlaut regions. Austrians are their own brand of iconic bakers — they don’t call it Viennoiserie for nothing — and relish their little Salzstangerl and hearty variations on Bauernbrot. Stalwart Walliser Roggenbrot carries AOP/IGP status in Switzerland. In Alto Adige-Südtirol each valley seems to have its signature bread, from crispy flat Schüttelbrot to swoon-worthy aromatic Vinschger Paarl. I’ll never forget when I stayed at a hotel in Dorf Tirol/Tirolo that had daily “bread service”: a shocking array of fresh bread and rolls delivered right to the room.
Walking into a German bakery means entering a carbohydrate wonderland. I was entranced from my first encounter with a German bakery stall at Munich’s Ostbahnhof, surrounded by dozens of loaves of every shape, size, and grain: dense little brick-like pan loaves; lofty, light wheat loaves; immense wheels of Bauernbrot; crusty little Brötchen; bronzed and shiny Brezeln; and much, much more.
Bread Culture at Every Meal: Brotzeit to Abendbrot
Bread is woven into most German meals. A slice of bread or a Brötchen smeared with butter and topped with meat or cheese is the perfect start to the day. When midmorning hunger hits, it’s Brotzeit, a southern German word for snack time, consisting of bread or pretzels, cheese, dried meats, and other toppings. In many parts of Germany, the day centers around a substantial hot lunch and a lighter dinner of bread and toppings: Abendbrot.
Bread is eaten fresh and picked up regularly. It’s the dreamy decision between Körnerbrötchen, Roggenbrötchen, or Laugengebäck for breakfast or a slice of Roggenvolkornbrot or Dinkel-Saatenbrot for Abendbrot. (Need toast? They have Toastbrot, a simple, soft pan loaf, for that.)
Wine writer Jancis Robinson said on a recent TRINK podcast that German wine producers don’t get out enough to brag about the exquisite, honest, scrumptious nectars they make. Similarly, Germans don’t boast about their delicious food traditions. Berlin-based food writer Luisa Weiss, author of Classic German Baking and the new Classic German Cooking, has said (and I paraphrase) that Germans aren’t as proud of their food traditions as the Italians or French.
I don’t see ads for or documentaries about travel to Germany to taste its incredible bread. Prue Leith, British culinary grand dame and judge on the Great British and Great American Baking Shows, and I agree. Germany (and, I would add German-speaking Europe) has the best bakeries in the world.
With the unending types of bread, you have infinite pairings when it comes to matching these fermented masterpieces, but here’s a new classic at my house.
Perfect Pairing: Sekt and Brezeln
The gentle hills above Ingelheim, the town where Charlemagne once had a residence, often get overlooked because of their more famous neighbors across the Rhine. However, Ingelheim’s limestone-inflected soils are perfectly suited for Burgundian varieties, notably Chardonnay, Weissburgunder, and Inghelheim’s claim to fame, Spätburgunder, all ideal for Sekt. Sekt has been a revelation for me, partially because I can get my Chicagoan paws on bottles from high-quality, small producer wines from makers like Lena Singer-Fischer. I’ve always been a bubblehead. When I travelled through Rheinhessen last April, I included a stop in Ingelheim, where I fell in love with the region’s Chardonnay — a huge surprise.
Pair Lena Macht Sekt 2020 Blanc de Blancs Extra Brut, a 100% Chardonnay traditional method sparkler from Ingelheim, with fresh, warm Swabian-style salted Brezeln, smeared with a bit of cultured butter. Brezeln are small wheat-flour based twisted knots that get dipped or sprayed in a lye (Laugen) solution, which gives them a deep-brown, lacquered crust, and distinctive slightly bitter, mineral flavor. Bavarian-style pretzels are typically uniform in thickness, with a slightly denser crumb from a leaner dough. Swabian-style pretzels have a fat belly and skinny arms, plus they contain a bit more fat in the dough, making them lighter and softer.
Why pair Sekt with Brezeln? The saline and mineral notes of this taut, pure wine jive with the pretzel’s salt and the shiny, bitter crust. The crisp Meyer-lemon acidity cuts through the rich butter, then the subtle, yeasty finish of the wine teases out the bready quality of the soft interior of the pretzel. It’s joyous celebration of German bread and wine culture.
