Joanna Simon explains the history and preparation of Wiener Schnitzel, and picks out the best wines to pair with this most famous of Austrian dishes.
It has taken me a long time to come to Austria in this series. It’s not for lack of a distinctive traditional style of food, one which, if one were to sum up in a single word, would be “hearty.” No, if there’s a problem, it’s mine rather than Austrian cuisine’s. I came back from my first visit to Vienna and the other wine regions decades ago with an impression of the cooking as “all cakes and brains. This was certainly a distortion of the reality—there were other foods and classic dishes, above all, Wiener schnitzel—but the cakes and brains, especially the Viennese Hirn mit ei (calf’s brains with eggs) has stuck with me.
The cakes are splendid, but traditionally they are drunk with coffee, not wine. That Viennese Coffee House Culture is listed by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage is a measure of just how embedded coffee drinking is. There is nothing to stop you enjoying wine with the likes of Sachertorte and Punschkrapfen—Austria has long produced its own distinguished sweet wines—but drinking them with cakes is not traditional.
As for brains, they happen to be one of the few things I opt not to eat, which is why the memory of them lingers (another food in this category is tripe—please resist any temptation to try to persuade me by sending me your favourite tripe recipe). The popularity of brains may have declined in Austria in recent years, but they are still consumed enough for them to be a food pairing suggestion on the website of the admirable Domäne Wachau for a Grüner Veltliner I was recommending recently. I went with my own suggestions.
So why haven’t I done Austria’s most famous dish, Wiener schnitzel, before now? Partly, it seemed almost too obvious. But, as with brains, there’s a personal element too (not a good excuse, I know). It’s a dish so simple—breaded, fried veal escalope—I never order it in restaurants. I prefer to choose things that I don’t cook myself because I don’t have the necessary chefs’ skills or limitless time (I leave sweetbreads, for example, to London’s excellent Trivet restaurant), or because they contain ingredients to which I have little access.
It’s also a dish that, until recently, I haven’t been in the habit of cooking myself since I was required to do so as an 18-year-old au pair in Geneva. The veal escalopes provided for it had slightly less flavour than cardboard, so it wasn’t a dish I felt encouraged to continue doing when I returned to the UK. I’m sure the veal in Switzerland is much better now, just as it is much improved in Britain, especially since the advent of rose veal in 2007.
How to make Wiener Schnitzel
But in the months since I started cooking Wiener schnitzel again, I have become a convert. Executed well and served with a traditional potato salad and an impeccably fresh green or cucumber salad, it’s perfect in its simplicity. But the preparation has to be flawless. There’s no leeway for a soggy coating, dry, tasteless meat, or bland, sharp or sloppy potato salad.
The escalopes, beaten until they’re no more than 4–5mm thick (a maximum ⅜ inch), are lightly seasoned with salt, then dipped into coarse flour, followed by beaten egg and finally breadcrumbs—and It’s important not to press the breadcrumbs into the meat, if the coating is to emerge crisp and light. Lard is traditionally used for frying, although clarified butter is often suggested as an alternative today and I find goose fat is very good. Whichever is used, the depth of fat in the pan should be 2–2.5cm (up to 1 inch) and it must be hot—around 170ºC (340ºF), or hot enough to sizzle but not spit when you drop in a small piece of bread and to turn the bread golden. The escalopes are fried for 2–3 minutes each side and are ready for the plate and the potato salad.
Austria has more than one potato salad (Erdäpfelsalat), but a classic Viennese one is made from waxy potatoes (boiled) and finely diced or sliced onion, dressed while the potatoes are still hot with hot meat broth (stock) mixed with a vinaigrette that includes mustard.
The origins of Wiener schnitzel seem to go back nearly two centuries. It’s usually said to have made its first appearance in 1831 in a cookbook by Maria Anna Neudecker. I haven’t been able to verify this, but her book Die Bayerische Köchen in Böhmen was first published in 1805 and ran to several editions. More impact was made when the dish appeared in 1858 in a southern German cookbook, Die süddeutsche Kuche by the Austrian Katharina Prato, which went on to be published in 80 editions and several translations over the next 100 years.
For a long time—1869 up to 2007—the origins of Wiener schnitzel were said to be Italian, the recipe allegedly having been taken by Field Marshall Joseph Radetzky von Radetz from Italy to Vienna in 1857, whereupon the emperor is said, personally, to have requested it from him. It’s a good story, in which a mysterious Count Attems has a role, but has been shown to be without basis (Heinz Dieter Pohl, 2007).
The best wines to pair with Wiener Schnitzel
We are on firmer ground with the wine. It’s not a dish that demands complex, fine wine, and is most often served with young Grüner Veltliner, which suits it—the crisp, lively Grüner flattering the crunch and richness of the fried coating, and its flavor notes of peach, white pepper, citrus, and a hint of celery leaf pairing well with the delicate veal. But it’s a dish that can accommodate more complex, concentrated white wines, including Grüner Veltliners from leading producers in regions such as Wachau, Kremstal, and Kamptal (Bründlmayer, to name one).
A more unusual white wine that goes well is Piedmont’s rare Timorasso, from producers such as Vietti and Vigneti Massa. Although slightly richer and more perfumed or honeyed than Grüner, it’s lifted by its fresh acidity. In the absence of Timorasso, you could turn to a good Gavi.
Dry Alsace Pinot Gris is another white wine candidate with Wiener schnitzel. I think it has the edge over dry Riesling, which, whether from the Rhine, Alsace, or Clare Valley, can feel too assertively acidic for the veal escalope. An Alsace Pinot Gris I particularly enjoyed with it was Albert Mann Pinot Gris Furstentum, but I could equally settle for a dry Pinot Gris from, for example, Zind Humbrecht or Domaine Weinbach Clos des Capucins.
Other whites worth considering are Soave Classico, Etna Bianco (although it can be too mineral), and youthful Chardonnay with little if any discernible oak. Burgundy, including Chablis Premier Cru, can, but the Chardonnay I am keen to try with Wiener schnitzel is one from southeast Poland that I tasted recently, Kamil Barczentewicz’s Chardonnay Beton 2022. Precise, textured, and nimble, it’s grown on limestone slopes and is spontaneously fermented and aged in concrete tanks.
If opting for red wine, avoid tannic and heavily or incisively fruity wines, in favour of livelier reds. Even a mellow, mature Pomerol and Wiener schnitzel did little more than tolerate each other’s company, but Pinot Noir, excluding the most fruit-forward, perfumed styles, can be very successful, including from Alsace and Burgundy. Beaujolais crus, old-vine Cinsault and País, and, not least, Austria’s Zweigelt are other reds to have on your radar.





