Vorarlberg is Austria's quiet corner. Tucked against the Swiss and German borders, it speaks Alemannic dialect, eats differently from Vienna, and doesn't make a fuss about it. Käsknöpfle is their pride, small, stubby spaetzle layered with pungent Bergkäse and crowned with deeply browned onions. When I first tasted the real thing on a childhood trip through the Bregenzerwald with Gretel and my grandmother Eva, I couldn't believe something so plain could taste that good. Gretel nodded like she'd been waiting for me to figure it out. "This is good Austrian home cooking," she said. "Not everything needs to be Viennese."

The salad is what happens the next day. You take the leftover Käsknöpfle, cold from the fridge where the cheese has set around the Knöpfle in sticky clumps, and you break it apart into a bowl. A sharp vinaigrette loosens everything up. Thinly sliced onion gives bite. Fresh chives bring it back to life. It's Alemannic thrift at its most practical: nothing wasted, nothing diminished. The dish doesn't apologize for being leftovers. It becomes something worth making on purpose.

I serve this at my restaurant in Salzburg during the warmer months, packed into jars for guests who want something to take on a hike or eat by the river. It travels beautifully. It sits happily at room temperature for a couple of hours without losing its composure. And it tastes better after thirty minutes of marinating than it does straight from the bowl. That's the vinegar working, softening the cheese, pulling flavor from every surface. If you've never made Käsknöpfle before, start there. Make too much on purpose. Then make this salad the next day and understand why Vorarlbergers don't throw anything away.