The regional table / North Dakota
Knoephla Soup
The broth is easy. The dumpling is where every cook in this state stops agreeing with every other.
The dish has no settled spelling, and that is the first honest thing to say about it. The North Dakota State Library has digitised sixty-five of the state's community cookbooks into the Prairie Recipes collection on Digital Horizons, all of them marked No Copyright, and the word appears there five different ways. Knepfla turns up on eighteen pages, knephla on nine, knefla on three, and knoephla — the spelling every café menu in Bismarck now uses — on exactly two. Knoefla makes two more. The Germans from Russia Heritage Collection at North Dakota State University, which is the archive the dish belongs to, files three recipes for it under two spellings on one page. And the state's own book has none of them: the Federal Writers' Project guide of 1938, which describes Russo-German dress, house paint, the Christmas Angels and the sunflower seed they called the Russian peanut, never prints the word under any spelling, nor borscht, nor fleischkuechle. It does record the country, though — the Russo-Germans "first came to this State about 1889, settling in the south-central section, in McIntosh and Emmons Counties", and made up 12.8 percent of the population when the guide went to press.
What the archives do settle is the dumpling, by disagreeing about it in a way that is more useful than agreement would be. Four methods are on the record, all of them from North Dakota kitchens. The Wolford community cookbook of 2005 rolls the dough into half-inch ropes and cuts half-inch pieces straight into the simmering soup. Barbara Gross, in a recipe GRHC took from the Napoleon Care Center Cook Book, makes a softer dough and cuts it "into small pieces with scissors" over the pot. Grandma Julia Messer's knoephles, sent in to GRHC from Florida, are stiffer and go in by the spoonful: "Drop by spoonfuls into boiling water. When they float, they're done." And Arlene Isaak, whose recipe went to the Bismarck Tribune on 12 November 2003, does not make them at all — "Knoepfla dough can be purchased frozen; it is a type of German dumpling. I like to use a spaetzle dough, which is more like noodles." Rope-and-cut is the method below, because it is the only one that gives every dumpling the same thickness, and thickness is the whole of whether it cooks through before the outside goes to paste.
Why this version works
Rope and cut, not drop. A dropped spoonful is fat in the middle and thin at the edges, so the edges are mush by the time the middle is done. A half-inch rope cut into half-inch pieces gives you a pot of dumplings that are all the same across, and they finish together. The scissors method gets you most of the way there and is faster; it is worth knowing for a weeknight.
Cream at the end, off the boil. Every documented version finishes with dairy — milk in the Napoleon recipe, a cup of cream in the Bismarck Tribune one. It goes in after the dumplings are cooked and the pot is off a rolling boil. Cream held at a boil in a starchy, salty broth breaks, and once it has broken there is nothing to be done with it.
Baking powder, and a rest of exactly none. This is a chemically raised dumpling, not a yeasted one. The powder starts working the moment the liquid goes in, so the dough is mixed, rolled, cut and in the pot inside ten minutes. Dough left sitting on the board spends its lift on the counter and boils up dense.
Waxy potatoes in the broth, and they do the thickening. NDSU Extension puts the rule plainly in Potatoes from Garden to Table: cultivars with a waxy texture are "lower in starch content and specific gravity" and "hold together better during boiling", which is why the bulletin recommends them for soups and stews. Red-skinned potatoes keep their edges in a pot that simmers for half an hour. A russet dissolves and thickens the soup into wallpaper paste, which is a different and worse dish.