Krautfleckerl

Krautfleckerl is a humble, hearty Austrian dish that transforms simple ingredients into something deeply comforting. With tender pasta, sweet caramelized cabbage, and warm spices, it's a taste of home-cooked Vienna in every bite.

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Krautfleckerl is one of those dishes that proves how a few simple ingredients like onion, cabbage, pasta, and a bit of patience can come together to create something truly comforting. It’s the kind of food that tastes like someone cares about you.

Disclaimer: this following text contains notions of domestic violence. If you're sensitive to violence and psychological torture, please skip this section: Skip

It has been a year since that night. Since the night he had left her barely breathing on the street. Followed by endless months of further psychological torture, non-stop calls, constant stalking, banging on the door in the middle of the night, and the countless threats to her and everyone she loved… 

But after a year, it seems like he had finally moved on. No more calls, no more stalking, and no more visits in the middle of the night. He had moved on. He had, but not me, not her. She was still struggling with nightmares and paranoia…

It started simple. A note on his bathroom mirror, stuck to the glass with a kiss of deep red lipstick in place of a signature. A shade she used to love, until he called her whore one too many times.

The note had her handwriting, saying:“Do you remember that night? What you did? I do.”

He laughed it off, not thinking twice about it and tossed it in the trash. A prank, maybe, he thought.

The next day it got more twisted. His mug, the one she had given him for his birthday, sat unharmed on the counter. The chip that had been there for years, gone. Confusion set in as he picked up the mug. He ran his fingers along the smooth ceramic, as if trying to summon back the flaw. 

Everyday something felt off - as if something had changed…

The days started bleeding together after that. Like ink in water, everything smeared. His Spotify playlist began to shift. “All the Pretty Girls” played every morning, though he hadn’t heard it since Elise left. He deleted the playlist. But it came back. He changed his account. Yet, it still played.

Then the voices came.

At first, they were just murmurings at the edge of sleep. Hissing through the cracks in his walls, crawling into his ears like silverfish.

“That’s not how it happened.”“Those scars are made by you.”“You said no one would ever believe her.”

He left the TV on at night, turned every light in the apartment on. It didn’t help. The whispers only grew clearer.

Then he started seeing her. Or something that wore her shape.

In line at the gas station. Across the aisle on the subway. Two tables over at the café, sipping from a porcelain cup, sunglasses hiding her eyes, and that lipstick, that unmistakable red, blooming like roses across her mouth. She never looked at him - not directly. But he felt it - her gaze, drilling through him like guilt incarnate.

And then the photos began appearing.

Polaroids, grainy and cold, of him sleeping. One on the kitchen counter. Another on the balcony, his silhouette blurred in low light. One tucked under his pillow with a note on the back…“You said she was crazy. How does it feel?”

He tried calling for help. His therapist’s number rang dead. His texts to friends froze mid-send. Even when he walked into the police station, all he got was laughs and sympathy too hollow. A young lady officer took his statement, her wrist bore a small tattoo, a bee, with its wing all cracked. Elise used to draw that. Over and over. A warning. Maybe…

He moved cities shortly after the visit to the police station. New phone. New place. New locks. New name.

The first night in the new apartment, he opened a drawer and found a crumpled napkin. It smelled faintly of her perfume, sweet vanilla. On the corner of it, scribbled in her handwriting:“It’s not about revenge. It’s about our memories together.”

And then it all came rushing in.

Not the fake memories he told everyone about her. Not the story where she was too emotional, too unstable, too difficult to love. No, not those. But the truth came screaming back. His words, sharp and deliberate. The emotional manipulations built to trap her. The nights she cried into the pillow while he slept soundly beside her. The way he’d twisted and beat her until she didn’t even recognize herself in the mirror. And the countless hours spent to hide the marks.

Her voice echoed now, inside his skull, the desperate pleas to stop, the whimpering after every hit, and the desperate “I love you’s”, when trying to disarm the situation.

Now he understood…

He stumbled to the mirror, shaking. Looked into it. And saw nothing. No reflection, only her.

Elise.

Standing just behind him, smiling.

As her hand reached out to him, he jolted awake in his bed. Was it a dream? He was wondering as “All the pretty girls” played in the background.

Whether you're making it for the first time or revisiting a childhood favourite, I hope this recipe brings a little bit of Austria to your table.

Ingredients

• 250 g Fleckerl pasta (or small square pasta shapes)

• ½ head of white cabbage, finely sliced (cut roughly the same size as the pasta)

• 2 medium onions, finely diced

• 2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

• 1 tbsp butter

• ½ tsp ground cumin (adjust to taste)

• Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

  
  

Method

1. Cook the Fleckerl pasta in salted water according to package instructions until al dente. Drain and set aside.

2. In a large pan or deep skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the diced onions and chopped garlic. Sauté until the onions are golden brown and slightly caramelized.

3. Stir in the cumin, a pinch of salt, and a generous amount of freshly ground black pepper. Let the spices toast for about 30 seconds to release their aroma.

4. Add the finely sliced cabbage to the pan. Stir well to coat it in the buttery onion mixture. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage softens and starts to brown slightly. This may take 15–20 minutes. If needed, add a splash of water to prevent sticking.

5. Add the cooked pasta to the cabbage mixture. Stir everything together and cook for another 2–3 minutes so the flavours combine.

6. Taste and adjust seasoning with more salt and pepper if needed. Serve hot, optionally with a sprinkle of chopped parsley or a side of salad.

Enjoy!