Wooden Spoons, Applause, Potatoes: The "Pottkieker" in the Arenal Parsonage

Wooden Spoons, Applause, Potatoes: The "Pottkieker" in the Arenal Parsonage

An evening when schnitzel, spätzle and conversations matter

It smells of fried meat, butter and a sauce slowly being reduced. In the freshly renovated kitchen of the Protestant community house in Arenal pans clatter, voices briefly drown out the radio, and somewhere under the table Trudi, the pastor couple's dog, sniffs around. This is how a typical Friday evening with the "Pottkieker" begins — a men's cooking circle that meets once or twice a month.

The group is mixed, most are between 50 and 80 years old. Some are experienced home cooks, others come mainly for the company. Everyone brings something: one a spätzle press, another a six-pack of beer, someone has a spoon that could tell stories. As a welcome drink this evening there is a Pisco Sour that a church council member brought back from a trip — a small, unexpected South American touch among breadcrumbs and the smell of roast.

On the menu this evening is the classic German supper: semolina dumpling soup as a starter, then schnitzel with homemade spätzle and a field salad with bacon and croutons, finishing with Salzburger Nockerl. The division of labor runs without many words: a team breads the schnitzel, others take care of the spätzle, and the sauce is refined together. One man takes the timing, another handles the seasoning — and sometimes a quick glance at the pastor's phone decides whether a football scene is commented on louder than the salt.

That there are culinary highs and creative ideas elsewhere in the world is shown by a contribution from Hanns-Henning Krull, one of the group's longest-serving hobby cooks. He recalls a Colombian dish he once brought: a lomo al trapo, where the meat is wrapped in a cloth, covered with salt and soaked in beer before being cooked over high flames. Stories like that add variety to the otherwise familiar German classics.

The name "Pottkieker" goes back to a northern German term and was coined by Paul Stijohann when the group was founded in 2015. The circle is open: men of other confessions are welcome, and those who prefer to watch rather than handle the pots enjoy sitting in just the same. It's less about cooking lessons and more about being together: working together on a plate, telling repair stories, giving a hug to the one who arrives with a car breakdown.

Before the meal there is a small ritual: a rhythmic word of thanks accompanied by hand clapping that strikes a tone between mischief and seriousness. The table group joins in, they take their time. Afterwards they eat, laugh and sometimes watch football into the late evening — that night the match between Frankfurt and Dortmund ended 3:3, prompting ongoing debates until dessert, similar to Football Talk in Peguera: Schmidi Brings Stars and Pub-Table Atmosphere to Krümels Stadl.

Farewell here does not mean standing still: at the end a group member who will soon emigrate to Paraguay treats everyone to a bottle of "Berliner Luft" — a small taste of home to take along. Gestures like these make clear what it is about: community, connection and a piece of home on the island.

What such meetings mean for Mallorca is more than a well-laid table. They strengthen neighborhoods, bring different experiences together — as in Sourdough at the Playa: Anett's Sun Bakery in Arenal Smells Like Home — and fill the community house with life during the quiet season. Those who come here find not only food for the stomach but also for the eyes and ears: stories, hands-on help and occasionally a tip on how to make spätzle especially fluffy.

Once a month or more, a pot, an open ear and a bit of humour are enough to make neighbourhoods livelier. For the Pottkieker the perspective remains open: keep cooking, keep inviting, keep sharing stories. And for anyone who likes the scent from the kitchen — the door is often open.