Is It a Bierock or a Runza? These Savory Midwestern Buns Are Delicious Either Wa…

No dish reminds me of my home state of Kansas—and the Midwest in general—more than a bierock (pronounced BEER-ock). Like so many Midwestern foods, it’s undoubtedly modest fare: a round bread roll (usually fist-sized or a little larger) made with tender, enriched bread and filled with beef, onions, and cabbage. “But wait,” I hear you say, “That’s a runza!” In truth, “bierock” is the more common designation in Kansas, while “runza” is usually attributed to Nebraska, but these buns go by many names, including krautburgers, pirozhki, and fleischbrok (with countless spelling differences and pronunciations for each variation). They can all be traced back to an expansive ethnoreligious community of Volga German Mennonites who have been sharing and blending their traditions in the American Heartland for over a century and a half. As a Kansan and descendant of that group, I’d like to present my case for the humble bierock.

A Brief History of Bierocks

Runzas are identical to bierocks except in shape; they tend to be oblong, while bierocks are circular. We can owe the popularity of the “runza” moniker to a Nebraska-based fast food chain of the same name. Runza restaurants have reached a cult favorite status in Nebraska (with a few locations in surrounding states), to the point of warranting a campaign stop from vice presidential candidate Tim Walz earlier this year. Although Walz asserted, “Don’t call it anything else except for runza,” the term is actually a genericization. Runza’s founder, Sally Everett, coined the term, and her family trademarked it shortly after opening the chain’s first location in Lincoln, Nebraska, in 1949.*

“Bierock,” on the other hand, likely evolved from the Russian word “pirog” (literally: pie), which encompasses a category of baked yeast breads or pastries stuffed with sweet or savory fillings. It probably entered the Mennonite lexicon in the 18th century, when a group from Polish Prussia settled along the banks of the Volga River in Russia and present-day Ukraine. They lived there along with other German immigrants, which led to the region’s population being classified as Volga Germans. 

According to Norma Jost Voth’s Mennonite Foods & Folkways From South Russia, Volume II, these newly Russian Mennonites were skilled agriculturalists as well as pacifists, and Catherine the Great’s government had put out an appealing offer: farm the land in exchange for religious freedom and dispensation from military service. They lived there until that promise was revoked in the 1870s, triggering a wave of Volga German immigration to the United States. They primarily settled on the plains of Kansas, Nebraska, and North and South Dakota, where many continue to farm wheat, corn, and cattle today.

I grew up in one of these farming communities in Southwestern Kansas, eating the dishes that Mennonites had assimilated and evolved during their migrations throughout Europe, like kommst borscht (no beets involved), peppernuts (similar to German pfeffernüsse flavored with anise oil), and, of course, bierocks. If you look, you can pinpoint a few of the reasons behind bierocks’ longevity in Mennonites’ (and other Midwesterners’) diets. First, bierocks are relatively inexpensive to make, as the cabbage supplements some of the meat, which can be pricey. Second, a large quantity of them can be made with a relatively small batch of bread. Lastly, because they’re self-contained, they’re easy to pack for long days during harvest season. In our times, they also have the added benefit of freezing and reheating incredibly well.

*Note: It’s rumored that Everett used her family’s nickname for the buns, which was based on the word for “belly,” referring to the buns’ rounded shape, in a blended dialect called Low German. Many Mennonites still speak Low German (also known as Plautdietsch), but fewer write with it, and I could not find strong evidence to verify the translation. Instead, a Low German-speaking Mennonite friend confirmed that it sounded similar to “rund,” or the Low German word for round.

The Key Techniques for Making Excellent Bierocks

Some sects of religious Mennonites limit their use of modern technologies—including the internet—which I think has contributed to the lack of consistency around how we talk about traditional bierocks, their variations, and how to make them. For that reason, the recipe I’m sharing here is my perfect version of the Kansan Mennonite bierocks I ate growing up. It started from a technique I developed as a teen when I sold homemade bierocks in my small town to earn pocket money during high school. I also went to the source and consulted community cookbooks with recipes aggregated from Mennonites in my hometown and across the country. 

Most of their recipes call for straightforward fillings made only of ground beef, onion, and cabbage (sometimes sauerkraut), seasoned with salt and pepper. I recreated a seasoning salt and added paprika, garlic powder, and onion powder for extra flavor while staying close to tradition. Many simply call for “bread dough” to wrap the filling, and these days, it’s common to use a thaw-and-bake white bread dough from the grocery store, like Rhodes brand, for a weeknight shortcut. 

I vastly prefer the taste and consistency of homemade white bread, thoroughly enriched with sugar, milk, butter, and eggs. Not only do these ingredients add sweetness and richness to the flavor of the bread, but they create a more tender, delicate crumb. The sugar holds onto moisture in the dough and delays the development of gluten. The fat from the dairy and eggs further inhibits gluten development by coating the protein molecules, which prevents them from linking together. I also specifically developed this dough to be soft but not tacky, making it easy to work with while rolling and forming. Here are three more tips I’ve found for making the best bierocks.

The Best Way to Shape Bierocks

The best bierocks have a bread-to-filling ratio that looks roughly equal when sliced in half after baking. They have meat and cabbage in every bite and are wrapped with enough dough to make a uniform layer of sweetened, fluffy bread. Even the most perfectly proportioned bierock can fall flat (metaphorically and literally) if it’s not shaped well, though. At this point, most Mennonite recipes direct the reader to simply roll the dough out and fill it without extraneous details regarding measurements or how to do it. I have, therefore, worked through a decade of misshapen, deflated, and holey bierocks to find my favorite way to form them. 

The first essential shaping step is rolling. The most common problem I have encountered (both in my own kitchen and with bierocks others have made) is a tough, bready knot in the bottom of the roll. This happens when the dough is hand-pressed or not rolled out enough, yielding a dense seam where the thick edges are pressed together. Stretching the dough too thin, on the other hand, makes it prone to tearing and causes a lumpy, unsightly top when pulled over the filling. The best method I’ve found is a compromise between the two: keep the center of each dough round about as thick as a storebought flour tortilla, then slightly increase the pressure as you roll out toward its edges. The gradual tapering around the diameter helps create an even bottom seam while preserving enough dough in the center for a smooth, rounded top after it is sealed and flipped. Plenty of filling (almost a cup per roll) also helps support the bun from the inside to keep it from collapsing.

As for closing up the buns, it may be tempting to try and smush all the edges together over the filling—it’s even how I was taught to do it—but this approach can be hit-or-miss. A crammed-together seal is much more likely to cause the tough, doughy bottoms I mentioned above. For better, more consistent results,I recommend taking the time to pleat the edges one by one, a technique inspired by the same one used to seal Chinese dumplings like xiao long bao. This method allows you to add just a little dough to the seam with each pinch and yields a uniform bottom after baking. Resist the urge to poke holes to release any air you might feel inside the closed bierocks—it won’t be noticeable when the bun proves and expands while cooking. The final egg wash step on the uncooked rolls adds a glossy, deep golden finish.

Cook Out the Moisture

Make sure to cook out any excess liquid when preparing the filling, particularly if you’re changing it up with moisture-rich ingredients like mushrooms or sauerkraut. You want to use a pan with a wide surface area to facilitate evaporation. Though a 12-inch sauté pan or cast iron skillet will work especially well, you could also use a braiser or large Dutch oven. This recipe uses water to help quickly tenderize the cabbage, but you should cook and stir until the cabbage is wilted and tender and there is no visible liquid in the bottom of the pan. Excessive moisture can make the soft bread soggy, especially when reheating.

Experiment With Your Filling

This recipe is for a Mennonite-style of bierocks, and it’s the version you’ll typically find in small towns throughout Kansas today. Once you have the technique down, though, feel free to switch it up! Bierocks are great canvases for creative fillings. Cheese is a common but nontraditional addition (I didn’t encounter it until I heard about Runza restaurants as an adult), but you can stir your choice of shredded or cubed cheese into the cooled filling or add a little into each bun before you shape it. You can also change up the type of meat. Try swapping in ground turkey or thinly sliced steak, and replacing some (or all) of the cabbage with sauerkraut or other vegetables like sliced peppers or broccoli. Adding spices like taco seasoning and cotija for a Tex-Mex style, or use Italian herbs, a big spoonful of tomato paste, and shredded mozzarella for pizza-inspired bierocks. There’s no right or wrong way—just the most delicious way for you. Just be sure to aim for six cups of cooked filling to suit this recipe’s batch of bread.

How to Serve Bierocks

I like my bierocks with a big swipe of yellow mustard on each bite, but they’re also fantastic with whole grain, spicy brown, or Dijon mustard. Ketchup is another common dipper, but you could also branch out with barbecue sauce, steak sauce, or even brown gravy. Or, just eat them as-is!

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