Blunzengröstl

Blunzngröstl is more than just a plate of blood sausage, potatoes, and onions—it’s a quiet hymn to survival, to thrift, and to flavor wrung from the humblest of ingredients. Born in the snow-dusted kitchens of Austria, this dish has the kind of presence that fills a room before the first bite is taken. You begin with potatoes, boiled until just yielding, then peeled and roughly sliced—no need for perfection here. The onions soften in pork fat or butter, becoming sweet and golden, the kind of sweetness only time can offer. Then comes the Blunzn, or blood sausage, casing stripped away like a winter coat at the door. It’s broken gently into the pan, stirred through the potatoes with marjoram, black pepper, caraway—a smell that says home, even if you’ve never been to one like this. A fried egg, sunny and trembling, tops the pile, yolk ready to spill into crevices like molten gold. Some scatter parsley, others add vinegar or sauerkraut to cut the richness. Black pudding may step in where Blunzn cannot. It’s a meal for after funerals and harvests alike, a dish that clings to your ribs and your memory. Leftovers rarely survive the night, but if they do, they’re just as good the next day—maybe even better.