By Buck Miller( retired rancher from Lubbock County, Texas ) Guest Post
Now, I ain’t no fancy food writer, and I surely never figured I’d be sittin’ here in a quiet corner of our farmhouse, tappin’ away at a laptop, tellin’ folks about roast pork. But life’s funny like that. You see, me and my darlin’ wife, Marlene, spent near on four decades raisin’ cattle and keepin’ up the ranch out in West Texas. But last fall, we did somethin’ real different—we packed up and flew across the Atlantic to see what this Oktoberfest thing was all about. We’d heard tales of beer the size of oil cans, brass bands, and sausages longer than a rattler’s tail. But what really caught me by surprise was somethin’ called Schweinebraten.
If you ain’t heard of it, Schweinebraten is what the Germans call roast pork, but that’s like sayin’ a ribeye is just a piece of beef. This dish is somethin’ else entirely—flavorful, tender, with a crust that could make a preacher cuss in joy. It was my kinda meat, and after one bite, I knew I had to learn how it was done.
Our German Sojourn
We landed in Munich on a crisp September morning. First thing I noticed was how clean everything was. Even the train stations looked like they’d been pressure-washed that morning. We rode the rails through the Bavarian countryside, took in castles and cobblestone streets, and even stayed a night in a little town called Regensburg that felt like a step back into the Middle Ages.
But nothin’ compared to Oktoberfest. The tents were bigger than high school football fields, the music was foot-stompin’ good, and the folks? Friendly as all get out. Germans love their traditions, and it warmed this old cowboy’s heart to see folks singin’, dancin’, and eatin’ like it was the last meal on Earth.
One evening, while enjoyin’ my third stein of Dunkel beer, I struck up a conversation with a local fella named Lukas. He was a meat man like me—worked as a grillmeister and owned a small steak and smokehouse in Augsburg. When I told him I used to run cattle back in Texas and could cook a mean brisket, his eyes lit up. He invited me and Marlene over to his house the next day to show us his take on Schweinebraten.
And folks, what followed was one of the best meals—and lessons—I ever had.
Lukas’s Traditional Bavarian Schweinebraten
A Step-by-Step Recipe from a German Grill Enthusiast
Ingredients:
- 1.5 to 2 kg (3.5 to 4.5 lbs) pork shoulder or pork neck, with skin (rind) on
- 2 tablespoons salt (preferably coarse sea salt)
- 1 tablespoon caraway seeds
- 1 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 tablespoon sweet paprika
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil or lard
- 2 onions, quartered
- 2 carrots, chopped
- 1/4 celery root (or 2 celery stalks), chopped
- 4 cloves garlic, smashed
- 1 bottle (500 ml) of dark beer (Dunkel or Märzen works great)
- 500 ml beef or vegetable broth
- Optional: 1 tablespoon mustard (Lukas says this is “for the rebel touch”)
Instructions:
Step 1: Score and Salt the Rind
Lukas showed me how to crosshatch the pork rind with a sharp blade, just cutting through the skin but not too deep into the fat. Then we rubbed salt deep into the grooves—this makes the skin puff up into that crunchy goodness called Krusten. Leave it uncovered in the fridge overnight to dry the skin. (He said this is the German version of “low and slow.”)
Step 2: Season That Pig
Next day, we rubbed the meat with a mix of oil, black pepper, paprika, and crushed caraway seeds. Lukas added a touch of mustard for tang. That went all over the meat—no corner untouched.
Step 3: Start the Roast
We set the pork rind side down in a roasting pan and threw in onions, carrots, celery root, and garlic. Poured in half the beer and half the broth. That pan went into a 350°F (175°C) oven for about an hour.
Step 4: Flip and Crustify
After the first hour, we flipped the pork rind side up and poured the rest of the beer over it. Back in the oven it went for another 90 minutes, this time uncovered so the crust could start to form. Lukas basted it every 30 minutes with the pan juices.
Step 5: Crank the Heat
Now comes the magic. For the last 20 minutes, Lukas jacked up the oven to 450°F (230°C) to get that skin cracklin’ like good pork rinds at a county fair. You could hear it pop and sizzle—it was a beautiful sound.
Step 6: Make the Gravy
He removed the pork and let it rest. Then strained all those rich veggies and juices into a pot and reduced it down to a thick, shiny gravy. He added a splash more beer and adjusted the salt.
Step 7: Slice and Serve
That pork sliced like butter, and that rind? Lord have mercy—it crunched like a kettle chip but melted in your mouth. He served it with Semmelknödel (bread dumplings) and red cabbage, and I’ll be honest—I forgot brisket even existed for a moment.
Final Thoughts from a Texas Cowboy
I never thought I’d come all the way to Germany and find a kindred spirit in a pork-loving Bavarian. But that’s the beauty of food—it connects people. Doesn’t matter if you come from a ranch in Texas or a smokehouse in Augsburg, good meat brings good folks together.
Marlene and I’ve already made Lukas’s Schweinebraten twice since comin’ home. We serve it with mashed taters and green beans—Texas-style—but it still carries the spirit of Bavaria. And every time I take a bite, I tip my hat to that fine German fella who shared a piece of his world with an old cowboy and his sweetheart.
So if you’re ever wanderin’ through Munich in late September, grab a beer, sit down in one of them tents, and order the Schweinebraten. Tell ’em Buck sent ya.
Prost, y’all.