Ludwigvon Schnitzel

Six winters in Vienna. One cutlet, pounded thin, fried until it puffs.

A cook who went to Vienna to get it right

Ludwig von Schnitzel arrived in Vienna with a good appetite and a bad cutlet. He left six winters later knowing why the crust should ripple, why the pan should never rest, and why a lemon is not optional.

  1. Year one: the Naschmarkt

    Herr Kastner, the butcher, made him cut pork for months before he was allowed to cook it. Lesson: choose the loin, cut across the grain, and never hurry a knife.

  2. Year two: the Gasthaus kitchen

    Frau Brandstätter ran a back-street Gasthaus in Neubau. She handed him a mallet and said the cutlet should be thin enough to read a menu through. He flattened forty before she nodded.

  3. Year three: the crust that puffs

    His breading stuck like plaster. Frau Brandstätter taught him the trick: don't press the crumbs on, and keep the pan moving so the fat washes over the top. The crust lifts away from the meat, in waves.

  4. Years four and five: fat and fire

    Clarified butter or lard, hot enough to hiss but never smoke. Ludwig burnt a great many dinners learning the difference.

  5. Year six: the plate

    A wedge of lemon, parsley potatoes, a spoon of lingonberry. No sauce. Nothing to hide behind.

"The meat should be a little shy of its own crust."

Frau Brandstätter, to a young Ludwig, over a very hot pan

The method he brought home

Four rules from Vienna. Ludwig cooks with pork, as plenty of Austrian home kitchens do. (In Austria, a schnitzel labelled Wiener is traditionally veal, so a pork one is Wiener Art.)

Pound it thin

Between sheets of baking paper, from the centre outward, to about 4 to 5 mm. Even thickness cooks evenly.

Three plates, one hand

Flour, beaten egg, fine breadcrumbs. Keep one hand dry and one wet so your fingers don't turn into croquettes.

Swim, don't sizzle

Shallow fat at about 170°C. Swirl the pan and spoon fat over the top until the crust puffs and ripples.

Lemon, then eat

Rest it on paper for a moment, squeeze lemon over it, and serve before the crust softens.

Pound-o-meter

Drag to set the thickness of your cutlet.

10 mm

From Vienna to a Sydney summer

Ludwig never planned to leave Vienna. Then, in his sixth winter at Frau Brandstätter's Gasthaus, an Austrian who had settled in Australia decades earlier, ate his schnitzel in silence and asked to speak to the cook.

She was the grandmother of Stephanie, the owner of the Austrian Club Restaurant. She was on the hunt for the best schnitzel in the world and knew she could find it in Vienna. Would he like to come and cook one in Sydney?

He said no twice. The third time, Frau Brandstätter told him a cook who had learnt something worth knowing was obliged to pass it on. He booked a one-way flight.

Ludwig landed in Sydney in January, in the middle of a heatwave, with a mallet in his suitcase. His first service at the Austrian Club Restaurant was a blur of steam, butter and homesick regulars who went quiet at the first bite. Some of them cried. One of them asked for seconds.