
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.
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Buttery almond shortcrust rolled into small balls, pressed with your thumb, and filled with jewel-bright jam. The cookie that belongs on every Austrian Christmas plate.
In my grandmother Eva's kitchen in Kent, the Christmas baking started in November. Gretel would arrive with her notebook and a very specific list. Vanillekipferl first, then Linzer Augen, then these: Husarenkrapferl. She always made them last because they were her favorites and she wanted to give them her full attention.
Husarenkrapferl are almond shortcrust cookies, rich with butter and ground almonds, rolled into small balls and pressed with your thumb to make a hollow. You fill that hollow with jam, Ribiselmarmelade (red currant) if you're traditional, Marillenmarmelade (apricot) if you're from the right part of Austria, and then you bake them until the edges turn golden and the jam bubbles gently in its little well. They come out looking like tiny jeweled buttons.
The dough is forgiving and a pleasure to work with. Cold butter, ground almonds, flour, egg yolks, a little Vanillezucker. You bring it together quickly, chill it, then roll. Every ball gets your thumbprint. Gretel always said this was the most personal cookie in Austrian baking because every single one carries the mark of the hand that made it. No two look exactly alike. That's the point.
They keep beautifully in a tin for two weeks, which is why they're perfect for Weihnachtsbäckerei, the Austrian tradition of baking dozens of different cookie varieties in the weeks before Christmas. A proper Austrian Christmas plate has at least five kinds. Husarenkrapferl earn their place every year.
The name Husarenkrapferl means 'little Hussar doughnuts,' a reference to the Hungarian Hussars, the light cavalry of the Habsburg empire whose ornate uniforms featured rows of round, indented buttons. The thumbprint in each cookie is said to resemble those buttons. The recipe reflects the Hungarian influence woven through Austrian cuisine during centuries of shared empire, with the almond-rich shortcrust dough drawing on the Kipferl and Krapferl traditions that Viennese Konditoreien refined into an art form by the 19th century.
Quantity
200g
cold and cubed
Quantity
80g
Quantity
2 packets (16g)
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
2 large
Quantity
100g
Quantity
280g
Quantity
approximately 100g
sieved
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| unsalted buttercold and cubed | 200g |
| powdered sugar (Staubzucker) | 80g |
| vanilla sugar (Vanillezucker) | 2 packets (16g) |
| fine salt | pinch |
| egg yolks | 2 large |
| ground almonds (unpeeled) | 100g |
| plain flour | 280g |
| Ribiselmarmelade (red currant jam) or Marillenmarmelade (apricot jam)sieved | approximately 100g |
Cut the cold butter into the flour using your fingertips or a pastry blender until the mixture looks like coarse sand. Add the powdered sugar, vanilla sugar, salt, ground almonds, and egg yolks. Work the dough together quickly with your hands until it just comes together in a smooth mass. Don't knead it. The moment it holds, stop. Overworked shortcrust gets tough because you develop the gluten, and that's the opposite of what you want here. This dough should bake tender and crumbly, almost dissolving on your tongue.
Flatten the dough into a disc, wrap it in cling film, and refrigerate for at least thirty minutes. The butter needs to firm up again after the warmth of your hands. Cold dough rolls cleanly into balls. Warm dough sticks to your palms and gives you ragged, uneven shapes. Patience here pays off in every cookie.
Preheat your oven to 170°C (340°F), conventional heat, not fan. Line two baking trays with parchment paper. Pinch off pieces of dough about the size of a large cherry and roll them between your palms into smooth balls. Place them on the trays with about two centimeters of space between each. They spread a little but not much.
Dip your thumb in a little flour and press firmly into the center of each ball. You want a proper well, deep enough to hold a good half-teaspoon of jam, but not so deep that you push through to the baking tray. If the edges crack, pinch them back together gently. A few cracks are fine. These are handmade cookies, not factory stamped. Gretel always said the cracks are how you know a real person made them.
Sieve your jam to remove any seeds or lumps. You want it smooth so it sits neatly in the wells. Using a small spoon or a piping bag with no tip, fill each thumbprint with jam. Don't overfill. The jam will bubble up slightly as it bakes, and if there's too much it spills over the sides and burns onto the tray. Fill to just below the rim of the well. A generous half-teaspoon per cookie is right.
Bake for 12 to 14 minutes, until the edges are pale golden and the jam has just begun to set. The cookies will still feel soft when you touch them. That's right. They firm up as they cool. If you bake them until they feel firm in the oven, they'll be overbaked by the time they reach room temperature. Pull them out when the tops are still slightly yielding and the color is the palest gold.
Let the cookies cool on the tray for five minutes, then transfer them carefully to a wire rack. They're fragile when warm. Once completely cool, dust lightly with powdered sugar if you like, though they're beautiful without it too. Store in a tin between layers of parchment paper. They keep for two weeks and actually improve after a day or two as the almond flavor deepens and the texture softens just slightly. Mahlzeit!
1 serving (about 18g)
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