
Chef Elsa
Anisbogen
Paper-thin anise wafers piped, dried overnight, baked pale gold, and bent over a rolling pin while still hot. Old-fashioned Austrian Weihnachtsbäckerei at its most elegant and rewarding.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
Viennese chocolate shortcrust rounds filled with sharp Ribisel jelly, dipped in dark chocolate, and crowned with a single blanched almond. The kind of Christmas cookie that makes you understand why Austrians start baking in November.
In my grandmother Eva's kitchen in Kent, the Christmas baking started weeks before Advent. Gretel would arrive with her notebook and a tin of Dutch-process cocoa, and the two of them would work through the Weihnachtsbäckerei list like generals planning a campaign. Vanillekipferl first, because they needed time to soften. Then Linzer Augen. Then, near the end, the Brabanzerl, which Gretel insisted had to be made with a steady hand and good chocolate or not at all.
Brabanzerl are small, precise, and beautiful. Two rounds of dark, cocoa-rich shortcrust pressed together with a thin layer of Ribisel jelly (that's redcurrant, tart and jewel-bright), then the whole sandwich dipped in dark chocolate and finished with a single blanched almond on top. When you bite through, you get the snap of tempered chocolate, the sandy crumble of the biscuit, and then that sharp burst of fruit cutting through everything. Three textures, three flavors, in something no bigger than a walnut.
They take patience. The dough needs to chill properly or it fights you when you roll it. The jelly must be smooth and applied thin or it oozes out the sides. The chocolate coating needs to be the right temperature or it blooms and goes chalky. None of this is difficult, but all of it rewards you for paying attention. Gretel always said the Brabanzerl was where you learned whether a baker had discipline. I still hear her voice every time I temper the chocolate.
The name Brabanzerl points to the Duchy of Brabant in the Low Countries, a Habsburg territory for centuries, and reflects how Viennese Konditorei culture absorbed influences from across the empire's vast holdings. Brabanzerl became a fixture of the Viennese Weihnachtsbäckerei, the elaborate Christmas cookie tradition where households produce a dozen or more varieties in the weeks before Advent. The pairing of chocolate biscuit with Ribisel (redcurrant) jelly is distinctly Viennese, combining the city's love of cocoa with the sharp preserved fruits that Austrian cooks have relied on for centuries to cut through rich butter doughs.
Quantity
200g
Quantity
50g
Quantity
30g
Quantity
150g
cold and cubed
Quantity
80g
Quantity
2
Quantity
8g (1 packet)
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
150g
sieved smooth
Quantity
200g
finely chopped
Quantity
24
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| plain flour | 200g |
| ground almonds | 50g |
| Dutch-process cocoa powder | 30g |
| unsalted buttercold and cubed | 150g |
| powdered sugar (Staubzucker) | 80g |
| egg yolks | 2 |
| vanilla sugar (Vanillezucker) | 8g (1 packet) |
| fine salt | pinch |
| Ribisel (redcurrant) jellysieved smooth | 150g |
| dark chocolate (minimum 60% cocoa)finely chopped | 200g |
| blanched almond halves | 24 |
Sift the flour, cocoa powder, and ground almonds together into a large bowl. Add the cold cubed butter and rub it in with your fingertips until the mixture looks like damp, dark sand. Work quickly. You want the butter cold, not melted from the warmth of your hands. Add the Staubzucker, Vanillezucker, salt, and the two egg yolks. Bring everything together into a smooth dough. Don't knead it. The moment it holds together in a ball, stop. Overworked shortcrust turns tough because you've developed the gluten, and these biscuits should crumble, not chew.
Flatten the dough into a disc about two centimeters thick, wrap it in cling film, and refrigerate for at least one hour. The dough needs to be firm and cold before you roll it. If it's soft, it sticks to everything and the rounds lose their clean edges. Don't skip this. Walk away and make yourself a coffee. The dough will tell you when it's ready by feeling firm but not rock-hard when you press it with your thumb.
Preheat your oven to 170°C (340°F). Line two baking sheets with parchment. Roll the dough out on a lightly floured surface to about four millimeters thick. Dust your rolling pin with a little cocoa powder instead of extra flour to keep the color dark. Cut rounds with a 4cm cutter, pressing straight down without twisting. Twisting seals the edges and the biscuits won't rise evenly. Gather the scraps gently, press them together, chill for ten minutes, and roll again. You should get about 48 rounds, enough for 24 sandwich cookies.
Place the rounds on the prepared sheets with a centimeter of space between them. They barely spread, so you can fit them close. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes. Here's the thing about chocolate biscuits: you can't judge doneness by color the way you would with a plain shortbread. They're already dark. Instead, touch one gently in the center. It should feel dry and just firm, not soft. They'll firm up further as they cool. Pull them at 10 minutes if you're unsure. A slightly underdone Brabanzerl is tender. An overbaked one is bitter and dry, and the cocoa turns unforgiving. Let them cool completely on the sheets before you touch them. They're fragile when warm.
Push the Ribisel jelly through a fine sieve to remove any seeds or lumps. You want it perfectly smooth, almost like a glaze. Turn half the cooled biscuits flat-side up. Using a small spoon or piping bag, place about half a teaspoon of jelly in the center of each. Not too much. The jelly should stay inside the sandwich when you press it, not squish out the edges. Press a second biscuit gently on top, flat side down, until the jelly just reaches the edges. The tartness of the Ribisel is what makes these cookies sing. Without it, the chocolate would be one-dimensional. With it, every bite has somewhere to go.
Melt two-thirds of the chopped chocolate in a heatproof bowl set over barely simmering water. The bowl should not touch the water. Stir gently until smooth and the chocolate reaches about 50°C. Remove from the heat and add the remaining third of the chopped chocolate, stirring steadily until every piece has melted and the temperature drops to around 31°C. It should look glossy and feel cool when you dab a drop on your lower lip. This is a simple temper. It's what gives the finished coating that clean snap and shine instead of a dull, chalky surface.
Hold each sandwich cookie between two fingers and dip it into the tempered chocolate, turning it to coat completely. Let the excess drip back into the bowl. Place the coated cookie on a sheet of parchment. While the chocolate is still wet, press a single blanched almond half gently into the top. Don't push it in deep. Just enough that it holds. Work with confidence. The chocolate sets quickly once tempered, and hesitation leaves fingermarks. Once all the cookies are coated and topped, leave them at cool room temperature until the chocolate sets firm and glossy, about thirty minutes. Don't refrigerate them. The fridge causes condensation and the chocolate loses its shine.
1 serving (about 35g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Elsa
Paper-thin anise wafers piped, dried overnight, baked pale gold, and bent over a rolling pin while still hot. Old-fashioned Austrian Weihnachtsbäckerei at its most elegant and rewarding.

Chef Elsa
Small golden cookies built on hard-cooked egg yolks and good butter, the Viennese baker's answer to Christmas thrift. Sandwiched with Marillenmarmelade, dusted in Staubzucker, and gone before the plate gets cold.

Chef Elsa
Buttery Mürbteig bars with piped marzipan tracks and Ribiselmarmelade gleaming between like signal lights, the Viennese Christmas cookie that rewards precision with something beautiful enough to give as a gift.

Chef Elsa
Lacy caramelized almond discs studded with candied fruit and coated in dark chocolate on the bottom, the Konditorei cookie that turns Christmas baking into something serious and beautiful.