I’m a Pennsylvania Dutch girl who was raised eating pork and sauerkraut often, especially during winter months on the farm. Once the aroma hits my senses, I can just about taste it. It’s the best winter meal I was raised with, and I make it often.
The Germans can take credit for the name sauerkraut, meaning “sour cabbage,” but they can’t fully take credit for the invention itself. The earliest known records of preserving vegetables, through pickling (a lactic acid fermentation), came from China some 4000 plus years ago. Suan Chi, a type of pickled vegetable, became the preferred method of fermentation. During the building of the Great Wall (started in 221 BC), laborers, working hard in remote locations, were fed cabbage fermented in rice wine.
Many years later, Genghis Kahn (1167-1227), Mongolian warrior and ruler of the largest empire, the Mongol Empire, plundered China (over a period spanning six decades, into the 13th century), taking with him the recipe for fermented cabbage.
Historians believe that in the 13th century, the Tartars (Mongolian horsemen), while invading and conquering most of Eastern Europe, brought with them the tradition of pickled cabbage. Although the Mongols never actually conquered Germany and Poland, their version of pickled cabbage became most popular in those countries.
In Germany, instead of using wine they dry cured the kraut by sprinkling salt on the shredded cabbage. This process extracted the water, and the mixture fermented.
In Europe, cabbage was a popular crop in cold climates. Families put up barrels of sauerkraut for the long, winter months. Today, many countries have included cabbage as part of their national cuisine. Sauerkraut is known throughout Europe and in many parts of the U.S. and Canada.
Not only was sauerkraut an important part of the winter diet of Europeans, but it became a staple in the diet of seafaring men, who were dying of scurvy on long voyages.
It was the British crown who decided to experiment by sending four large vessels, with a variety of different foods, hoping to find a cure for scurvy. One of these vessels was navigated by the English explorer and astronomer, Captain James Cook. He realized certain foods, when eaten, prevented scurvy. Since sauerkraut was a food that wouldn’t spoil, he ordered barrels of it for the voyage. Alas, the crew called kraut “stuff not fit for human beings to eat.” Cook then ordered only officers could have kraut, and eventually the crew started eating it. He also stopped at ports to buy fresh fruit, vegetables and fresh water on his long three year voyage (1768-1771). He returned with no one having died of scurvy. Although vitamin C was not identified until 1912, Cook was awarded the Copley Medal, a high distinction in his time.
The Pennsylvania Dutch, originally German immigrants, came to America during the 17th and 18th century. With them came barrels of sauerkraut, recipes and traditions, such as eating pork and kraut for good luck on New Year’s Day.
In Sauerkraut Yankees by William Woys Weaver, the food historian, the folk saying goes “the boar roots forward, the rooster scratches backward,” an ancient Celtic idea that an offering to the god of good luck “would insure a plentiful harvest in the coming year.”
In Europe, farmers didn’t own much land, so they raised pigs because they only required a small area to stay in. Another food easily preserved for the winter season was sauerkraut. Eventually, the Germans adopted the pre-Christian idea of good luck. The kraut went with it, and traveled to America.
Sauerkraut, in its many forms, is enjoyed the world over and has great nutritional value. I, for one, relish the Pennsylvania Dutch pork and sauerkraut, served over mashed potatoes, not only on New Year’s Day, but all winter long.
I never made the sauerkraut myself, but I did watch my mother make it. This is what I remember.
It was late October, or early November, when Mom gathered the cabbage heads and set them on the kitchen table, after rinsing them with cold water. With her largest knife, she sliced the cabbage into shreds into a large bowl. When the bowl was filled, she dumped it into the crock pot on the floor. After each layer, she’d sprinkle salt. Once finished with the slicing, she’d mash the cabbage down with the potato masher. If I was still hanging around, I was called to do some mashing. When I’d complain, she’d say, “Now Carole, we have to mash down until the juice covers the cabbage or it could spoil.” And then I’d mash some more. After the juice finally covered the cabbage, a kitchen plate, with a large stone laid on top, was placed on the crock to keep it air tight. I think it was about five or six weeks she left it ferment in the coolness of the cellar.
And oh, how I loved this steaming dish of pork and sauerkraut “with a few turnips thrown in” during the winter season. The reason I placed the turnips in quotes is because all of my sisters insisted Mom never made pork and kraut with turnips. For some 30 years now, my husband and I have enjoyed the tradition of “turnips with pork and kraut” that Mom must have decided to “only” pass on to her favorite daughter. I’m honored!
Carole Christman Koch grew up in Berks County and has been published in numerous publications. She has a passion for writing and has many stories from growing up on a farm to everyday stories.
