Milan Jovanovic's Recipe for Making a Sauerkraut is Different from Mine

Jun 182010

I am not a big sports fan. Growing up, we always watched the Olympics, especially the winter games. We spent winter breaks on ski slopes fighting the ice patches and getting the adrenalin rushes from uninterrupted downhill runs. Alpine skiing held us glued to the TV sets while our heroes accomplished what we could only daydream about (our favorite was Sweden’s legendary Ingemar Stenmark, who won all his trophies using Elan skiis, made in Slovenia).

I played some tennis in high school when the first courts in our town were built. My enthusiasm waned when, time after time, my coach would leave me alone to practice a thousand backhands while he was observing from the patio of a near-by restaurant, drinking beer and yelling between the sips, “What do you think Chris Evert Lloyd would do now?” These days I like to watch the big tournaments, particularly now that some of the (good looking) Serbs are in the top.

Father was a doctor and a president of one of our town’s basketball teams while we were growing up, and he took us to all home games religiously. The best thing I remember were the freshly roasted peanuts the Gypsy Peanut Guy was passing around, yelling “Kikiriki, leblebije!” We rooted for our guys, screamed when appropriate, booed the referees when necessary (and it was always necessary), and jumped in the air for every well-deserved victory. We even spent one summer vacation with the team on the Adriatic island of Hvar when they were preparing for the upcoming season. We were just goofing around, being kids. I was a very shy soon-to-be a seventh grader surrounded by these tall, macho guys around the clock. It did some wonderful things for my ego. When I was fourteen, the basketball team from Granville, a sister town in France, arrived for a series of friendly games. I reluctantly went on a bus field trip organized to show our guests some of our history. Father sat in the front with the adults, leaving me frozen in my shyness, incapable of uttering a word. I shared the seat with seventeen year old Marcell. He didn’t speak English. I couldn’t speak French. So we still spent all day, quietly, stewing in uncommunicated chemistry. Later that night, at the party thrown for the players, managers, and town dignitaries (delectable food, intoxicating beverages and more intoxicating music), I experienced my first French kiss, under a starlit sky, kissing a French boy who was as naive and timid as I was.

But, I am going to forget for a moment the excitement of skiing, the elegance of tennis, and the romance of basketball. I have to talk about soccer, the game that is practically a religion in every country on the globe except for the U.S. I never cared for national leagues, European tournaments, or even World Championships. I have to confess, though, that my sister and I collected the stickers and filled an album for the 1972 Mundial held in Munich. We knew all the teams, the names of all the players, and rated them not by expertise, technique, or speed, but by, of course, their looks. We watched the games starring our handsomest men with the excitement and trepidation of pre-teens. Later on, if I could not avoid it, I would succumb to the national frenzy if Yugoslavia, and later Serbia, would find itself in some internationally important soccer challenge.

Serbia managed to get a place amongst sixteen best national teams in the 2010 World Soccer Championship. I had the Husband tape the games for me, and I, nodding in and out, watched bits and pieces of the match against Ghana. We lost 1:0. Oh, well. Today, Serbia played Germany. My sister lives in Frankfurt and her adorable husband is German. She got infected by his soccer-loving bug, and became an avid fan. But, it’s easy to wrap yourself in black, red, and yellow when Germany is playing bitter rivals, like the Netherlands, or Spain. Today, their household was not a harmonious one. An additional unbalance was my College Kritter, visiting in Frankfurt for three weeks. My brother-in-law, Thomas, is Numero Uno on her personal list of cool people, and she watches every game with him.

I was at work when a customer told me that Serbia unexpectedly won the game. Serbia beat Germany? I was skeptical. Not believing my source, I called the Husband. Of course, he had no personal knowledge of any sports results past or present, but was able to perform a competent Google search and confirm. So we sent our condolences via Skype to the victimized souls in Frankfurt. I still have not received an answer. The pain is, evidently, too deep or, perhaps, the victims are still in the initial stages of denial. I’m certain that there must be a slew of support groups and therapy options available in Germany for just such a disaster.

And Mexico beat France. I imagine that my co-kisser from that long-ago summer is pouting somewhere, his tears flooding the Seine.

But for me, this game was an opportunity to make a dish that is unequivocally and totally Serbian, with parts that are in the same time unequivocally and totally German. Serbia won, and the slant is purposeful. I have to take advantage of this situation and gloat. Who knows, in a couple of days I might have to make Sauerbraten and Spaetzle…

PODVARAK (Serbian Sauerkraut)

Ingredients:

2 Tbsp lard*
3-4 rashers of smoked bacon, chopped
2 medium onions, chopped
2 lbs sauerkraut, chopped**
3 bay leaves
5-6 peppercorns

*I had some home-rendered lard on hand, but if I had not, I would have used bacon grease. Duck fat woul work fine. I never made this dish with oil, so I cannot suggest a substitution.

**I brined my own sauerkraut, but the store-bought stuff works, too. Just avoid buying vinegar-brined, and opt for barrel-brined .

Directions:

In a heavy oven-safe skillet melt the lard over medium heat. Stir in the bacon and onions, and saute until onions become soft and transluscent, about 10 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350F.

Add the sauerkraut, and continue cooking, stirring often, until it shrinks almost by half, and becomes darker. (If it shows sighs of burning, add some water, or even better, sauerkraut liquid). This will take about 30 minutes. Mix in the bay leaves and peppercorns and put in the oven for another 30 minutes. Before serving take the bay leaves out. Serve with whole roasted chicken, braised chicken, roasted duck, roasted goose, or roasted pork. Corn bread is highly recommended. Serves 6 western Europeans or 4 Serbs or 2 Americans.