
Chef Elsa
Allerheiligenstriezel
A rich, buttery braided bread that Austrian godfathers bring their godchildren on All Saints' Day. The golden six-strand braid is as much ritual as recipe, and the kitchen smells like love while it bakes.
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Buttery Viennese crescents, golden with egg wash and soft as a Sunday morning, shaped the way Viennese bakers have shaped them for eight hundred years.
In my grandmother Eva's kitchen in Kent, Saturday mornings smelled like warm butter and yeast. Gretel would arrive with a bag of flour and a look on her face that meant we were baking. More often than not, that meant Kipferl. Not the plain Christmas biscuit kind, though those are lovely too, but the soft, enriched breakfast crescents that belong on every Viennese table next to a pot of good jam and a Melange.
Briochekipferl are what happen when Austrian bakers take the ancient Kipferl shape and fill it with everything good: butter, eggs, milk, a whisper of lemon zest. The dough is rich and golden, tender enough that the crescents pull apart in your hands but sturdy enough to hold their shape through two rises and a hot oven. They come out with a shine from the egg wash that makes them look like something from a Konditorei window, but they're simpler than they appear.
The shaping is the part people worry about, and it's the part I want you to enjoy. You roll triangles of dough from the wide end to the tip, then curve the ends gently inward to form that crescent. It takes two, maybe three tries before your hands understand the motion. After that, it becomes automatic. I've watched cooks in my restaurant in Salzburg go from nervous to rhythmic in the space of one batch. The dough tells you what to do if you let it.
Gretel always said that good bread dough should feel alive in your hands. Briochekipferl dough is exactly that: soft, warm, slightly sticky, and cooperative once you've given it enough time to rise. Don't rush the rises. The yeast is doing its work, and that work is what makes these crescents light instead of dense. Two hours from flour to oven. You can manage that on a weeknight if you start when you walk in the door.
The Kipferl is one of the oldest documented baked goods in Vienna, appearing in records from 1227, more than four centuries before the Ottoman sieges that popular legend credits with inspiring the crescent shape. In the 1830s, a Viennese artillery officer named August Zang opened a bakery on rue de Richelieu in Paris, introducing Viennese Kipferl to the French, who adopted the shape, enriched it further with laminated butter dough, and renamed it the croissant. The French breakfast icon is, in fact, a Viennese emigrant.
Quantity
500g
Quantity
7g
Quantity
70g
Quantity
1 packet (8g)
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
200ml
lukewarm
Quantity
2 large
room temperature
Quantity
120g
softened
Quantity
1
zested
Quantity
1
beaten with 1 tablespoon milk for egg wash
Quantity
for finishing
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| plain flour (glattes Mehl) | 500g |
| dried yeast | 7g |
| granulated sugar | 70g |
| Vanillezucker | 1 packet (8g) |
| fine salt | 1/2 teaspoon |
| whole milklukewarm | 200ml |
| eggsroom temperature | 2 large |
| unsalted buttersoftened | 120g |
| lemonzested | 1 |
| egg yolkbeaten with 1 tablespoon milk for egg wash | 1 |
| pearl sugar or coarse sugar (optional) | for finishing |
Warm the milk until it's just lukewarm, about 37°C. It should feel like nothing on the inside of your wrist: not hot, not cold. Stir the dried yeast and a teaspoon of the sugar into the milk and let it sit for ten minutes. When it turns frothy and smells like bread, the yeast is alive and ready. If nothing happens, your milk was too hot and you've killed it. Start again with fresh yeast and cooler milk.
Put the flour in a large bowl. Add the remaining sugar, Vanillezucker, salt, and lemon zest. Toss it together with your fingers so the zest gets distributed through the flour and starts releasing its oils. You'll smell it immediately. Make a well in the center, pour in the frothy yeast mixture and the two eggs. Stir with a wooden spoon until a shaggy dough comes together, then turn it out onto a clean surface.
Knead the dough for five minutes until it smooths out and becomes elastic. It will be slightly sticky. That's right. Now start adding the softened butter, a few pieces at a time, kneading each addition in before adding the next. This takes patience. The dough will look greasy and hopeless after the first piece of butter. Keep going. After all the butter is incorporated, knead for another five minutes. The dough should be soft, smooth, and pull away from the surface cleanly. It will feel alive in your hands: warm, springy, slightly tacky but not sticky.
Shape the dough into a ball and place it in a lightly oiled bowl. Cover with a clean tea towel and put it somewhere warm. The top of the fridge works. Near a radiator works. Inside an oven with just the light on works. Let it rise until doubled in size, about one hour. Don't poke it constantly. You'll know it's ready when you press a finger gently into the surface and the indent fills back slowly, not instantly.
Turn the risen dough out onto a lightly floured surface and press it down gently to deflate. Divide it in half. Roll one half into a circle about 30cm across and the thickness of a euro coin. Cut the circle into eight equal triangles, like slicing a pizza. Starting at the wide base of each triangle, roll the dough toward the point, keeping gentle tension as you go but not pulling it tight. The point should end up tucked underneath. Curve the two ends inward toward each other to form the crescent. Place them on a lined baking tray, point-side down, with a few centimeters between each one. Repeat with the second half of dough.
Cover the shaped Kipferl loosely with a tea towel and let them rise again for thirty to forty minutes. They should look visibly puffed and feel light when you lift the edge of one gently. While they rise, heat your oven to 180°C (fan) or 200°C (conventional). Position the rack in the upper third.
Brush each Kipferl with the egg yolk wash using a soft pastry brush. Be thorough but gentle. You don't want to deflate them after they've spent forty minutes rising. The wash is what gives them that deep golden shine you see in every Viennese bakery window. Scatter a pinch of pearl sugar over each one if you like a little crunch. Bake for 15 to 18 minutes until they're a rich, even gold. Not pale. Not dark. The color of good honey. Pull them out and let them cool on a wire rack for five minutes, though I've never seen anyone in my kitchen wait that long.
Serve the Kipferl warm with good butter and Marillenmarmelade (apricot jam), or just on their own with a Melange or a cup of strong coffee. They're best within a few hours of baking, while the crumb is still soft and the crust has that faint crackle. This is good Austrian home cooking at breakfast. Mahlzeit!
1 serving (about 60g)
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