Steirischer Käferbohnensalat

The first time I tasted Käferbohnensalat I was maybe ten years old, sitting at a wooden table outside a Buschenschank in southern Styria with Gretel and my grandmother Eva. Gretel ordered a Brettljause, and when it arrived, this salad sat right in the middle of the board between the Verhackert and the sliced Schweinsbraten. Creamy speckled beans in a pool of something so dark green it was nearly black. I dipped my bread in the oil before I even tried the beans. Gretel laughed and said that was exactly the right instinct.

Käferbohnen are runner beans, large and beautiful, with purple and black speckles across a pale skin that looks almost hand-painted. Styrians grow them on tall poles in kitchen gardens and along farm fences. When dried, they keep for months. When cooked, they turn creamy and dense with a flavour somewhere between chestnut and butter bean, but earthier than either. They hold a Marinade the way good bread holds soup: completely, without falling apart.

The dressing is vinegar-forward, as all Austrian salad Marinades should be. Sharp Apfelessig, thinly sliced white onion, salt, pepper, and then the Kürbiskernöl poured on at the very end. The oil is never mixed into the dressing. It sits on top, dark and glossy, swirling into the vinegar when you take your first forkful. This is the simplest salad in the Styrian kitchen and one of the best things I know how to make.