Today, Emden is mostly a tourist destination; A pretty, oldfashioned town in a remote corner of the country. If most people have heard anything about the region of East Frisia that surrounds it, it is most likely the Ostfriesenwitze – crude jokes painting its inhabitants as clueless rustics that were popular in Germany in the 1980s. In the 16th century, though, Emden was a commercial and intellectual centre whose influence reached far beyond its immediate neighbourhood. It welcomed Protestant refugees from the wars in the Netherlands in its multireligious community, its port thrived as trade bypassed the Spanish blockade of Dutch ports, its church hosted the Synod of Emden in 1571, laying the groundwork for much of today’s Calvinist church structures, and in 1595, its citizens sent their overbearing count Edzard II Cirkzena packing in a confrontation that would be the first such event named a revolutio.
It was not easy even to contemporaries to say whether these events were inspired by religion, money, or political disputes, but in the end, it doesn’t matter very much. Politics is always about money, money is invariably political, and in sixteenth-century Europe, everything was about religion. The broad facts were that the citizens of Emden were, in their majority, Calvinist, getting wealthy from trade, and fiercely defensive of their traditional rights while Count Edzard was Lutheran, absolutist by conviction, and very fond of raising taxes. This was not a good mix.
Emden was part of the Holy Roman Empire, but like much of the north, it had more in common with the Netherlands or even England than the Southern German realms whose culinary heritage is preserved in so many wonderful recipe books. We know a great deal less about its cuisine, and its reputation has not been the best. Even if these areas lacked sophistication, though, they were rich. Rich in money, in pastures and gardens, and consequently, in all the things Renaissance Germans thought mattered: Cheese, butter, meat, lard, eggs, beer, and bread. The good burghers of Emden no doubt ate lavishly, and even the town’s working classes enjoyed the understated comfort that later drew tens of thousands of German Hollandgänger across the border in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. A dish that could sustain disputants and militia fighters as much as printers and preachers is that staple of German folklore, the Eierkuchen.
The fascinating, as yet untranslated 1598 Kunstbuch by Franz de Rontzier, cook to the dukes of Brunswick, describes several varieties without much detail. The plain kind with herring and onions, with bacon, or with apples interest me here:
Of Eyerkuchen
(…)
6 You prepare a sauce (brueh) to go over an Eyerkuchen with vinegar, wine, egg yolk, pepper, and salt.
7 You fry streaky bacon in a pan, break eggs over it and strew it with salt when it is done.
8 You fry lean bacon with onions and apples, break eggs over it, and let it bake through.
9 You fry bacon with slices of white bread and large raisins, break eggs into it and bake it through together etc.
(…)
Eyerkuchen of smoked herring (Buecklingen)
1 Clean the Buecklinge, fry them in butter, break eggs over them etc.
2 You fry onions in butter and fry the Bueckling with this until it is done. Break eggs over it, and when it is done, season the Kuchen with wine vinegar and pepper etc.
3 Fry Buecklinge in butter, pour eggs beaten with parsley and rosemary over them etc.
6 (should be 4) Fry Bueckling in butter with gooseberries (Stichbirn), break eggs over it and cook it until it is done.
(p. 534 ff)
There are many other recipes you can check out in the full recipe post, but these are easy, quick, affordable, and filling. The basic principle is easy: You heat some butter or lard in a pan (do not stint on this if you are working outdoors in a North Sea drizzle or protesting in Minnesota winter), fry up what ingredients you want to have in it, and cover it all in beaten eggs, maybe with some extra flour, cream, or milk. The pan is then covered and the whole cooked at a lower heat until it has solidified into a kind of cake which is inverted onto a plate and sliced. It can be served with a basic sauce, drizzled with vinegar, or eaten as it was, hot and rich straight from the kitchen. This is quite unlike what modern Germans think of as an Eierkuchen, more like a frittata or what they call a tortilla in Spain (a Mexican tortilla is a very different thing). A single pan full can feed a small family.
This kind of food – plain, but rich and plentiful – sustained the revolt of 1595 when the citizens of Emden, faced with ever increasing tax demands and peremptory legislation, faced down their count and won. The conflict had been simmering for some time, and the count had obtained an imperial writ to force the city into obedience, but this had the opposite effect. In March of 1595, a crowd of angry protesters marched out of the Great Church to seize the town hall and armoury. Clearly there had been a degree of planning; A militia organisation was set up quickly, officers appointed, and the elected burghers’ committee declared themselves in charge. On 2 April, they conquered the castle that had been meant to dominate their city, ejecting the count and his followers. Over the coming years, simmering hostilities interrupted by various peace treaties and a ferocious exchange of pamphlets accompanied what had quickly become a stalemate. Writers elaborated the ancient Frisian freedom or castigated rebellious subjects, field fortifications were thrown up, conquered, and retaken, and in 1602, after a brief siege of such a fort, the count was actually forced to flee East Frisia, leaving the city of Emden to collect his taxes for two years.
In the end, it Frisian liberty trumped divine right and the nearby Netherlands’ powerful army a distant emperor’s writ. The city council had sought their aid early, and the choice paid off handsomely. Emden, its size increased by outlying areas, would from now on be protected by a garrison paid by the estates of East Frisia and commanded by a Dutch officer. Its council alone made its laws and set its taxes. For over a century, the city proudly declared itself a republic.
There are not many instances of Early Modern revolts succeeding fully, but this is one. Part of the explanation lies in the organisation and determination of the burghers. They had the example of the Dutch estates general to follow and no intention of negotiating an easier arrangement with their ruler – they wanted him gone. The assistance of the Dutch, themselves happy to secure a large port on their northern border as an ally and strongpoint, also helped greatly. Emden, protected by modern fortifications and professional troops, could enjoy a period of quiet prosperity, though the pivotal role it played during the wars of the mid-1500s never returned after the Dutch ports opened again. To this day, grand houses, a massive town hall, and an ornate gate bear witness to its old civic wealth and pride.