When you think of Christmas markets across Europe, you probably picture fairytale villages bedecked in twinkling lights, with stall after stall selling mulled wine, wooden ornaments, and cardamom-scented pastries. It’s a potent image—and not an inaccurate one.
But across the continent, holiday traditions vary wildly. In England, you’ll find yourself donning a paper crown pulled from a Christmas cracker. In Scandinavia, you might hear stories about a mischievous holiday goat-man—something of a cousin of the German Christmas demon Krampus. In Slovakia, you may have to dodge a shoe tossed by a single woman hoping for insight into her future husband. In Iceland, meanwhile, children might warn you about a sausage-swiping imp on the prowl—just one of the 13 so-called Yule Lads.
Likewise, every European Christmas market has its own vibe. But one thing unites them all. More than pastries and mirth. More than benevolent saints or steaming mugs of spiced booze.
An absolutely bananas amount of sausage that, pound for pound, probably binds these markets together more tightly than any gingerbread man ever could.
Stroll through any European Christmas market—whether it’s the postcard-ready Nürnberger Christkindlesmarkt, the Baltic Bliss in the Estonian capital of Tallinn, or the rollercoaster- and glogg-filled fun at Swedish amusement park Liseberg—and you’ll see the good stuff coiled over open fires and sizzling on massive grills, their fragrant plumes of rendered fat wafting into the night sky. It’s a scent that transcends borders, quietly defining the Christmas market experience across an entire continent.
How Christmas Markets (and Sausage) Became a European Tradition
To understand Christmas market sausages, you first have to understand Christmas markets themselves. According to The Smithsonian, the tradition began in Vienna in 1296, when Duke Albrecht I authorized 14-day December fairs. These early gatherings, however, “weren’t directly connected to Christmas and did not appear to be religious in nature.”
At the time, Vienna was part of the Holy Roman Empire, which encompassed much of what is now Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and beyond. From there, the markets spread throughout German-speaking regions alongside other seasonal traditions—most notably, the Christmas tree.
By the 17th century, Christmas markets had become a fixture across Europe, much to the irritation of English Puritans, who viewed them as little more than an excuse to drink and party. The tradition waned in the 19th century, only to rebound with postwar consumerism in the 1960s and ’70s, eventually becoming a firmly cemented part of European cultural life.
Sausage, unsurprisingly, was right there waiting. Its dominance at Christmas markets reflects European cuisine as a whole. As Gary Allen notes in Sausage: A Global History, Europeans are the world’s most prolific sausage producers, “possibly as a result of having an ideal environment for raising pigs, good supplies of salt in a seasonally cool climate for curing.”
Nowhere is that legacy more pronounced than in Germany, which alone produces more than 1,000 sausage varieties. Allen divides them into three primary categories: rotwurst (made entirely from raw ingredients), kochwurst (containing pre-cooked ingredients), and brühwurst (cooked after forming)—a taxonomy that helps explain why sausage feels less like street food at Christmas markets and more like a cultural constant across the continent.
What You'll Actually Find at the Christmas Stalls
Across Europe's markets, you’ll see German sausage varieties alongside regional sausage traditions. According to Beyond Yellow Brick Blog, which covered markets in France's Alsace region, Switzerland, and southern Germany, common offerings include weisswurst (mild pork and veal with lemon and nutmeg), kalbswurst (veal), rauchwurst (smoked), and knackwurst (pork and beef with garlic, grilled until crispy). They’re typically served in a bun or with rye bread and mustard. While ketchup use is "generally poo-pooed," there's usually a condiment station available if you must.
Redditor dudeguy490, a Seattle software engineer who visited 14 Christmas markets across Europe—including Dublin, London, Paris, Strasbourg, and Colmar—describes these sausages as "a reliable, filling/high-protein, affordable, and tasty option" available at "pretty much every market." He saw "bratwurst in every German market" and commonly encountered the beloved currywurst. Dudeguy490 did note, however, that French markets "sometimes didn't have bratwurst or pork steaks or any other protein option," which could be a problem for travelers who need to reach their protein goals.
In Vienna, the move is the Käsekrainer, a lightly smoked sausage stuffed with Emmental and other Alpine cheeses, so when you bite in, you get a molten pocket of dairy along with the pork. Zagreb, the capital of Croatia, specializes in grilled pork-sausage sandwiches. In Manchester, England, you might find yet more German bratwurst and Korean hot dogs. In Scandinavian countries, holiday spreads feature prinskorv—little cocktail weenies—alongside pickled herring. Frankfurt markets often pair bratwurst with local apple wine.
Sausage Is More Than Just Street Food
The sausage tradition intensifies in Nuremberg at the world-renowned Christkindlesmarkt, where Dudeguy490 spotted the most unique sausage of his travels. He tells The Sausage Project, “I saw the meter-long sausage, which is then folded in half before being handed to you.”
Also in Nuremberg, you’ll find the famous Rostbratwurst. According to the Nuremberg Christmas Market's official site, these little links are grilled over beechwood fires and "only as thick as a finger," so "they develop a particularly robust grill aroma.” Legend claims they're small so innkeepers could sell them through tavern keyholes during closing hours. In 2003, Nuremberg bratwurst became Europe’s first sausage to receive Protected Geographical Indication status from the European Union.
As Allen notes in his book, before the 19th century, "sausages were made primarily in the winter months because meat spoiled quickly during the rest of the year, and feeding pigs was expensive when they could not forage for themselves."
Sausage, for all its survival practicality, is now a veritable European emissary, a cultural connector, a spark of hope, light, and community in the dark.
And isn’t that, ultimately, the reason for the season?