Beer, Bread. Soup?

Bavarian Bier-Brotsuppe is a hearty, filling soup that’s easy to make and that packs plenty of flavor.

The Bavarians call it Brotsuppe. By historical accounts, it was a working man’s dish — hearty and savory, but also economic and unsophisticated — eaten first and foremost during Lent.

Like Andalusian Salmorejo and Tuscan Pappa al Pomodoro, its distant cousins from the Mediterranean seacoast, Bavarian Brotsuppe is a soup prepared with stale bread. Unlike them, however, the base is not tomatoes and garlic, but broth and beer instead.

While any bread and liquid can technically make brotsuppe, I’ve had the most success with wheat beer and stale sourdough loaves. Wheat beer, or Weißbier as Bavarians call it, is made up of more than 50% wheat, which gives it that distinctive cloudiness and a bready, subtly sweet taste.

This choice of cooking liquid turns my soup into Bier-Brotsuppe.

The fermented tang of the sourdough bread perfectly complements the aroma and flavor of the wheat beer, much like how elderly couples have long settled their disagreements. This soup is a mature pairing of ingredients, if slightly bitter, that’s stood the test of time.

How I Make Brotsuppe

I start by tearing up the bread into small, evenly-sized pieces, and setting it aside:

To build the base, I pour a can of wheat beer into a pot, throw in a cube of beef bouillon, and bring the liquid to a boil over high heat:

I also add half an onion and one potato, diced. I avoid the excess: Both ingredients were scarce when this soup was a staple dish in the Bavarian household. They are, after all, the supporting cast in our story — the protagonists are the beer and the bread.

Dried sweet paprika — the kind that’s sold whole and needs to be broken up with your hands directly over the pot — gives the soup diversity of color and some much-needed sweetness.

Once the soup starts foaming, I turn the heat down to medium (to avert a boil-over) and give the pot an initial stir:

Author’s note: If you add the bread too early, it will seep its starches into the cooking liquid long before the potatoes have cooked. This will require you to lean by the stove and stir non-stop. Instead, I recommend making life easier for yourself by adding the bread only *after* the potatoes have softened.

Potatoes take time to cook, and the soup loses moisture through evaporation, resulting in the loss of liquid. This is desired when you’re thickening a soup, but not necessarily when it’s still cooking.

So, at all moments during the cooking process, I try to make sure there’s enough liquid in the pot. I do this by adding water halfway through the cooking process. (Had I not thrown in a bouillon cube earlier, I would have used broth or stock instead of just water.)

Once a fork can effortlessly pierce through the potato cubes, I add the bread:

And then, I let the soup boil — stirring occasionally — till the bread has turned to mush. The more the mush sticks to the bottom of the pot, the more I stir it.

This is a good time to start tasting the soup and adjusting the flavor. I’ve found that a sprinkle of salt and a dash of apple cider vinegar can go a long way. If my soup turns out a little too bitter because of the beer, a splash of cream over low heat can easily fix that.

Gradually, I reduce the heat until I reach setting one of nine on my stovetop, which keeps it warm for serving. When the soup is ready, I brown a few cubes of bread in butter, with a sprinkle of salt and some white pepper, to make croutons:

The croutons top the soup upon serving:

Bier-Brotsuppe — bitter but also balanced, savory but also sweet — is ideal for a cold winter night when the wind is howling and the body craves carbs. It is to be enjoyed in warmth and good company.

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