Scrapple's German progenitor Panhas (or panaas) was and still is made only with buckwheat, which has more texture, flavor, and nutrition than wheat flour. The combination of buckwheat and cornmeal is the most traditional scrapple formula. Meat Hook also uses rye flour as well as buckwheat and cornmeal. "Spices" can include garlic, onion, and various dry seasonings New York's Meat Hook butcher shop uses black and white pepper, clove, allspice, coriander, nutmeg, sage, marjoram, and chili powder. Let’s go right to the ingredients label of the late Josh Ozersky's favorite, Habbersett Scrapple (a Pennsylvania classic since 1863, though the company has been Wisconsin-owned since 1985): It features pork stock, pork, pork skins, cornmeal, wheat flour, pork hearts, pork livers, pork tongues, salt, and spices. Below, a guide to the three dominant scrapple food groups: The short version: It either definitely is or definitely isn't related to the German word for "scraps." But these days, "scrapple" is used generically, almost like "hash." Which is to say, all of these things are a type of scrapple, but scrapple is not all of these things.
The etymology of the term scrapple is complex, varied and debated. The trend also extends to other cultures, and to sausage: Cajun and French boudin, English black pudding, and Scottish haggis are all scrapple kin. Basically, if there are people of German descent (the "Dutch" in "Pennsylvania Dutch" is said to be an Anglicization of "deutsch") some pigs, and grain, you're going to find a loaf that mixes up the two. In the Carolinas, there's livermush (and liver pudding). In Cincinnati (and Northern Kentucky) there's goetta, made with oats instead of cornmeal. Yes, there's offal involved, but not exclusively - as Weaver notes in his book, there's no more ground-up mystery protein in scrapple than in your average big-box store hamburger patty. Grains - traditionally buckwheat and cornmeal - are added to both extend the meat and thicken up the gruel, which, after hours and hours of stovetop cooking, is poured into loaf pans, refrigerated, and then sliced and fried for crispy (but also mushy) delicious eating. If you wanted to re-brand scrapple as "bone-broth loaf," you could. Last year, the " scrapple waffle" at Ivan Ramen's Lower East Side noodle shop prompted Eater NY's Robert Sietsema to declare it "one of the city's best dishes of the year."Īll of these things are a type of scrapple, but scrapple is not all of these things.Īs with so many delicious meats, scrapple's existence came out of necessity: to use up every bit of meat, including the leftover broth from butchering and cooking a whole pig. Scrapple may not be on the menu of every diner or coffee shop outside of Eastern Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland, but in this age of whole-animal butchers, charcuterie, and high/low fusion cooking, it's pretty easy to find in brunchy cafes and and meat-centric restaurants all around the country.
The latter is no offal-phobic rant, but rather, a Misery-meets- Soylent Green short story set in Pennsylvania Dutch country (you can probably guess how it ends).Īmong people who like food, such scrapple-shaming is both off the mark and out of fashion.
Search the term on Amazon and you will also find two 99-cent e-books: Sharon Love's How to Cook Scrapple and Twenty Ways to Enjoy It, and Rory Anderson's Scrapple: A Breakfast of Horrors. Well, at least one: William Woys Weaver's loving and authoritative 2003 history/cookbook, Country Scrapple.