There are certain words that apparently only our family uses. I grew up with these words, thinking they were part of the American lexicon. I learned words like “schmutzy,” “shittle” (schüttel), and Knisperhexie. And “schnittle.”
In German, schnitt means “cut,” so in the pidgin German used by my family, we have brought the word into our English, attaching English plural and conjugational endings like -s and -ed and -ing. It can be a verb and it be can a noun. Here are some examples.
“After the second graders had created their paper snowflakes, the floor was covered with schnittles of paper.”
“I’m busy schnittling up the potatoes to fry them; I’ll schnittle the veggies for the salad in a minute.”
You can see how schnittle comes in handy if you’re cooking. It implies cutting up into little pieces, and not just something you can sever with one whack. Schnittle is kind of like “whittle” or “snip.” Julienning comes close, too; matchsticks, chips, slivers . . . schnittles.
So here is another recipe for you. It’s taken me a ridiculously long time to understand how to make it, but I’m so pleased now that I have it (mostly) figured out. I think I heard my dad say it was one of the first recipes my Grandma S learned to make, taught to her by her German-born mother, Wilhelmine Thomas. And yeah, I’m still working on it, but here it is.
Schnittled Carrots
Peel carrots and cut into matchsticks; splinters. I don’t think grating will work, unless you have an exceptionally coarse grater. Do up about three cups.
Put these in a saucepan with a little water. Bring to a boil, cover, and let simmer until almost done. Cook off most of the water if you can. (I’m still figuring this out. Maybe steaming would be better. At any rate, you don’t want a lot of cooking water, but neither do you want to overcook the carrots.) (I think Grandma often used an electric skillet, with a lid, for this.)
Gently stir in the following, and serve.
- 2 tbsp. butter or margarine
- 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar. (Remember what I told you about apple cider vinegar: there is no substitute when we’re talking about “Grandma recipes”)
- 1 1/2 tsp. flour
- 1/4 c. packed brown sugar (or maybe a little less)
- salt and pepper to taste
The carrots should turn out kind of sweet-and-sour glazed.
Another note: This recipe is remarkably similar to what we do with red cabbage around here (grate cabbage, cook or steam in a small amount of water, add sliced apples if you want, then add a dressing that’s almost identical to this).
On the face of it, this would seem a very ho-hum kind of dish, but like I said yesterday, it’s one of those dishes that acts like a time machine for me. It’s “comfort food” of the first order.
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