The German Abendbrot debate: bread, cold cuts, and no cooking

Abendbrot: the German cold dinner served on a board

A bowl of soup with a sausage floating in it. That was the first thing served to a Spaniard hospitalized in a German hospital after days on an IV, his stomach aching with hunger. The scene summarizes a discussion that has been ongoing for 879 days: what do people eat for dinner in Germany, and why does this custom spark so much suspicion south of the Alps? The short answer is Abendbrot, literally "evening bread": a platter with cold cuts, cheese, butter, pickles, and slices of whole grain bread. No cooking. No spoon.

The discussion begins with a more ambitious thesis: the faster a country industrialized, the quicker it lost its traditional gastronomy, with France being the exception due to having maintained a strong agricultural sector for political reasons. The British example is often repeated, but the focus ends up on Germany. And there, the diagnosis becomes harsh: the food is mediocre, leaning towards bad.

What exactly is Abendbrot and why is it eaten this way

The format is always the same: bread, cold cuts, deli meats, cheeses, pickles, jams for a sweet toast, and, in the best cases, salted fish with onion and tomato. Everything is cold, taken from a jar or a package. Some describe it bluntly as anti-cooking: not even a salad with tomato, just the bread base with toppings.

The most influential explanation in the conversation is not taste, but the clock. It is eaten this way to avoid going to bed with a full stomach, to prevent heavy digestion, and to be able to get up at five in the morning. Behind this lies a labor model: in Germany, there is a much stronger tradition of women working, whereas in Spain, until recently, housewives were abundant, providing the first course, second course, and dessert. The Spanish hot dinner is, in part, a byproduct of a domestic structure that did not exist there in the same way.

The German bread that many Spaniards struggle to recognize

The most technical defense of the German repertoire comes from the bread. Vollkornbrot, or whole grain bread, requires several types of flour—rye and wheat—whole and cracked grains, and real sourdough, not the marketing sold in Spain under that label. The process is tedious: preparing the sourdough, slow fermentation, and a baking process that leaves no room for error. Those who support it claim that this bread is far superior to many industrial breads consumed in Spain.

The problem is one of expectations. In Spain, one reads Kroketten and thinks of croquettes; the dish arrives and it is just breaded and fried boiled potato. The disappointment, they say, is immense. The same goes for the schnitzel, which is nothing more than a breaded fillet like the ones made at home. And the currywurst, chopped sausage with ketchup and curry, is presented as a national pride without anyone quite understanding why.

Geography matters: not all of Germany eats the same

The regional nuance is what generates the most discussion. Those who have lived in the north claim that food there is almost as bad as in the United Kingdom. Those who have lived in Stuttgart or Bavaria insist that in the south, they like to eat well. And a surprising fact emerges: one of the regions considered best for food in France is Alsace, which is precisely a historically German region.

The comparison with Italy is what leaves Germany in the worst position. Northern Italy industrialized at a similar estimulante ilegal and, according to the most common consensus, outperforms Germany significantly in gastronomy. The difference would not be the industrial timing, but the culture: in France and Italy, it was common for grandmothers to gift recipe books to brides, and in Italy, a 250-page cookbook circulated to be given upon marriage. In Germany, eating seems to be a mere formality that gets in the way.

The counterattack: less obesity and better bread than in Spain

It is not all demolition. Some argue that German cuisine has delicious things and is one of the most internationalized—though in many cases this was done by German emigrants in the United States, with frankfurters and hamburgers. And there are those who defend without hesitation that food in France is excellent, better than in Spain, with better bread, pastries, jams, and dairy, even if Spanish cheeses do surpass the French.

The most uncomfortable argument for the Mediterranean narrative is the scale: in Germany, there are very few obese people, while in Spain, even children suffer from obesity due to flour-based diets. So much Mediterranean diet only to end up eating flour, legumes, and fried foods with oil that has been reused a thousand times. The counterattack has its own trap: the average Russian, they note, eats flour, potatoes, and cheap carbs, and barely touches red meat.

Cheeses, cold cuts, and the peak of the controversy

The territory where Germany does not win is cheese. German blue cheeses do not appear in the conversation; the ones bought almost weekly are British Stilton, Roquefort, Gorgonzola, or Danablu. And the most repeated verdict places Cabrales as the best blue cheese in the world, above all of them. Spanish cheeses, in general, are considered the best in the world.

German cold cuts do hold up, although they are in an inferior position compared to the Italians. And smoked fish and British blue cheeses come as a pleasant surprise, with a cheddar described as amazing. German cuisine, along with English and practically all of Europe except Italy and Greece, is portrayed as poor quality by some of the participants.

The unexpected detail: heating and the cold

The conversation drifts toward an unexpected matter. In apartment blocks from the Soviet sphere, heating is central and at a flat rate, and the average temperature of a flat rarely falls below 25 degrees. That is why, they say, women there walk around almost in house clothes and open windows when they are hot. In Germany, on the other hand, heating is used sparingly, even during courtship.

The conclusion is driven by household economics. A pot of chickpeas costs about six euros, feeds four people, and if you add a handful of noodles to the broth, there is enough soup for another four to have dinner. It is cheaper than sandwiches, and you go to bed with a warm stomach. The question that remains is not whether Abendbrot is better or worse, but why a culture capable of manufacturing precision engines decided that lighting a fire at nine at night was an unnecessary luxury.