According to historians, the Germans were wary of the new crop, so it had to be introduced into the country by force, using the harshest of measures. And had it not been for the terrible famine caused by the Seven Years' War of 1756 – 1763, who knows whether the potato would ever have won such a firm place in German fields.
Incidentally, there is a theory that in Germany the name "Kartoffel" derives from the German words "Kraft" – strength – and "Teufel" – devil, i.e. "devil's strength" – Kraftteufel. True, this hypothesis has never been confirmed, but the fact that potato dishes are not only tasty but also nourishing is beyond doubt even today.
In East Prussia the potato caught on with a bang. Local housewives quickly grasped where the "devilish strength" of this overseas vegetable lay.
They grew different varieties of potato in their gardens and knew which were good for mashing and which for baking. As a rule they planted plenty, so that it would last until the next harvest. They stored the potatoes in cellars in special well-ventilated crates, carefully going through and sorting the tubers from time to time.
An East Prussian table without potatoes was hard to imagine. They were served with cream, with sour cream, fried, boiled, as croquettes, pancakes, mash, bakes… And they were even cooked in beer sauce.
Potatoes braised in beer sauce
— 750 g potatoes,
— ¼ l dark beer,
— ¼ l stock,
— 1 tbsp sugar,
— 1 onion,
— 4 cloves,
— ½ bay leaf,
— a little vinegar or lemon juice,
— 1 tsp starch, ground ginger to taste.
Parboil the potatoes in their skins, peel and cut into thick slices. Cover the remaining ingredients with the stock and beer, bring to the boil, add the potato starch to thicken and season with sweet-and-sour spices. Put the potato slices into the sauce and simmer uncovered over a low heat for 15 minutes.
Potatoes braised in beer sauce to this old East Prussian recipe go perfectly with beef dishes.
Farmer's breakfast
— 750 g potatoes,
— 6 – 8 eggs,
— 100 g butter,
— 125 g smoked speck,
— a little ground black pepper,
— chives,
— marjoram — optional,
— salt — to taste.
Parboil the potatoes in their skins, peel and cut into rounds or strips. Fry the smoked speck in butter, add the potatoes, salt lightly and fry until golden and crisp, stirring from time to time.
Beat the eggs well with a little water or milk, ground pepper and salt (and 1 tsp marjoram). Fry the farmer's breakfast first on one side, then turn it over with a spatula and fry the other side lightly too. Slide onto a warmed plate, fold in half and sprinkle with chives.
Potato croquettes
— 750 g white potatoes,
— 4 tbsp flour,
— 5 egg yolks,
— 3 tbsp butter,
— breadcrumbs,
— fat for frying,
— salt — to taste.
Boil the potatoes in their skins, peel, mash and leave to cool overnight.
Mix 3 egg yolks with the melted butter, flour and salt, add to the cooled mashed potato and mix well. Shape into small balls (croquettes), roll them in flour, dip in the remaining yolks beaten with water and salt, and coat with breadcrumbs.
Drop the croquettes into boiling vegetable oil or fat deep enough for them to float, and fry until golden brown. When the balls are done, lift them out and let the oil drain. Then put them back into the oil and fry until crisp. Lift them out again, let the fat drain and serve.
The dish goes beautifully with vegetables, meat or fish ragouts and roast meat.
Masurian potato bake
— 500 g raw potatoes,
— 1 onion,
— 50 g smoked speck,
— 2 eggs,
— 1/8 l milk,
— marjoram, thyme, salt and pepper — to taste,
— 1 tsp butter.
Peel and grate the raw potatoes and squeeze them out well. Finely chop the onion and speck. Make a batter from the potatoes, eggs and milk, mix in the onion and speck and season to taste. Butter a baking dish, spread the potato mixture in it and bake in an oven preheated to 180 degrees for about an hour and a half.
East Prussian potato salad
— 1 kg potatoes,
— 1 onion,
— 250 ml sour cream,
— 3 tbsp vinegar (herb vinegar works well),
— 1 pinch of sugar,
— 1 tsp mustard,
— 1 bunch spring onions,
— 1 bunch parsley,
— 1 bunch dill.
Boil the potatoes, peel and slice. Mix the sour cream with the vinegar, salt, mustard and herbs, add to the potatoes, salt to taste and leave in a cool place for 60 minutes. Any other herbs may be used if desired.
Potato dumplings deserve special attention in East Prussian cuisine. In Ermland they were regarded as a culinary delicacy and considered as nourishing as bread. Around Heilsberg (whose inhabitants were mostly Silesians) they were traditionally eaten in large quantities.
To make Heilsberg dumplings you will need 1 kg grated raw potatoes, 500 g grated boiled potatoes, 1–2 eggs (depending on size), 1 tbsp flour or starch, 1 tsp salt, 125 g smoked speck, 2 onions (you can use more speck and onion if you like), 2 tbsp butter (naturally, if you increase the onion and speck, you will need more butter too).
Put the grated raw potatoes in a colander to let the excess juice drain, then mix with the grated and cooled boiled potatoes, eggs, flour and salt. The dough should be fairly firm. Bring at least one litre of water to the boil and salt to taste. Shape the dough into round or oval dumplings and drop them into gently boiling water. When they rise to the surface, keep them over a low heat for about another 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, finely chop the onions and fry in butter until translucent. Take them out of the pan and, in the same butter, fry the finely diced smoked speck until crisp, then mix it with the onions. Lift out the dumplings with a slotted spoon and transfer them, together with the speck and onion garnish, to a warmed dish.
Before cooking the whole batch, you can cook a couple of test dumplings. If they are too firm, thin the dough with a little water; if they are too soft, add flour.
Many dishes from the East Prussian table migrated into Russian cuisine, and not the other way round, as some mistakenly believe. The potato appeared in Russia somewhat later, and on people's tables only by the middle of the 19th century.
There are two versions of how the overseas vegetable reached Russia. According to the first, it came to us via Silesia, which is where the German-derived official name "kartofel" comes from; later it came to be called simply "kartoshka". The other version holds that at the end of the 17th century Peter the Great sent a sack of tubers from Holland to the capital and had them distributed among the provinces with orders to plant them for food. But the Russian people were slow to accept Peter's gift; they often poisoned themselves by eating unpeeled potatoes that had turned green, and this led to "potato riots". Adding fuel to the fire, enlightened Slavophiles declared that the potato was an assault on Russian national identity and that "the potato will ruin both the stomachs and the pious morals of our God-protected eaters of bread and porridge since time immemorial". Nevertheless, by the beginning of the 20th century the potato was already regarded in Russia as a second bread.
Indeed, for a long time no one anywhere in Europe showed much interest in the potato. Only Italian peasants immediately (in the 16th century, as soon as it appeared) appreciated the taste of the "Peruvian earth nut", as it was first called there. Later, because of its outward resemblance, it was renamed "tartufolli". And the Italians not only ate these tartufolli-truffles themselves, but also fed them to their pigs.
Today museums are devoted to the potato. There are some in Germany (three, in fact), in Great Britain, Belgium, Denmark and Canada. In Russia such a museum opened in 2005 in the Leningrad Region, on the estate of Abram Gannibal, whom Catherine II had instructed "to try growing 'earth apples' to combat famine in years when the grain harvest failed". So why not open one in the Kaliningrad Region too – somewhere in Bolshakovo or, say, Slavsk?
Translated from Russian with the help of AI (Claude, Anthropic), October 2026.
