
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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Carinthian Christmas cookies made with earthy buckwheat flour and dark honey, rolled thin, cut into shapes, and baked until they fill the kitchen with the smell of southern Austria's mountains.
On one of our trips south from Salzburg into Kärnten, Gretel bought a paper bag of dark, crumbly cookies at a farmhouse stall near the Wörthersee. They were nothing like the pale Vanillekipferl I was used to from Eva's kitchen. These were brown, almost smoky, with a grain I couldn't place. Gretel told me it was Hadn, the Carinthian word for buckwheat, and that these cookies were as old as the mountains around us. I ate the whole bag before we reached Klagenfurt.
Kärntner Hadnkekse belong to a completely different branch of Austrian Christmas baking. Where Viennese cookies lean on butter, almonds, and Vanillezucker, Carinthian baking draws on what grows in the south: buckwheat from the hillside fields, dark forest honey, walnuts from the valleys. The buckwheat gives these cookies an earthy, almost nutty flavor that sits somewhere between rye bread and toasted hazelnuts. The honey holds everything together and deepens over the days after baking, which is why Carinthian grandmothers always made these weeks before Christmas.
The dough needs time in the cold. Don't skip the chilling. Buckwheat flour has no gluten, so the dough relies on the butter and honey firming up to hold its shape when you roll and cut it. If you try to work with it warm, it will crumble on you and you'll want to throw it across the room. Two hours in the fridge. Patience. The cookies will thank you for it.
Buckwheat has been cultivated in Kärnten (Carinthia) since the 15th century, brought along trade routes from Central Asia through the Balkans. The Carinthians call it Hadn or Heiden, from 'Heidenkorn' (heathen grain), because it arrived from non-Christian lands. Hadnkekse are part of a broader tradition of buckwheat baking in Austria's southernmost state that includes Hadnsterz (buckwheat porridge) and Hadntorte. These cookies were traditionally baked in the first week of Advent and stored in tin boxes, where the honey kept them moist through the Christmas season.
Quantity
200g
Quantity
100g
Quantity
150g
Austrian forest honey or good wildflower honey
Quantity
100g
softened
Quantity
1 large
Quantity
80g
finely chopped
Quantity
1
zested
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1/4 teaspoon
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
pinch
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| buckwheat flour (Hadnmehl) | 200g |
| plain flour | 100g |
| dark honeyAustrian forest honey or good wildflower honey | 150g |
| unsalted buttersoftened | 100g |
| egg | 1 large |
| walnutsfinely chopped | 80g |
| lemonzested | 1 |
| ground cinnamon | 1 teaspoon |
| ground cloves | 1/2 teaspoon |
| ground ginger | 1/4 teaspoon |
| ground allspice | pinch |
| baking soda | 1/2 teaspoon |
| salt | pinch |
In a small saucepan, warm the honey and butter together over low heat, stirring until the butter melts and the two combine into a smooth, glossy liquid. Don't let it boil. You're loosening the honey so it can coat every grain of flour evenly, not cooking it. Pull it off the heat and let it cool until you can comfortably touch the bottom of the pan. If you add the egg while it's too hot, you'll scramble it and have to start over.
In a large bowl, whisk together the buckwheat flour, plain flour, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, allspice, baking soda, and salt. The buckwheat flour is darker and coarser than wheat flour. That's exactly what you want. It gives the cookies their character. The plain flour is there to provide just enough structure, since buckwheat has no gluten at all and can't hold a dough together on its own.
Beat the egg into the cooled honey-butter mixture until smooth. Pour this into the dry ingredients and stir with a wooden spoon until everything comes together into a soft, sticky dough. It will look darker than you expect. That's the buckwheat. Fold in the chopped walnuts and lemon zest. The lemon cuts the earthiness of the buckwheat and lifts the whole cookie. Don't leave it out.
Flatten the dough into a disc, wrap it tightly in cling film, and refrigerate for at least two hours. Overnight is better. The cold firms the butter and lets the honey hydrate the buckwheat flour fully. Cold dough rolls cleanly. Warm dough crumbles and fights you. This is not a step you can skip.
Preheat your oven to 170°C (340°F). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. On a lightly floured surface (use the plain flour here, not buckwheat), roll the dough out to about four millimeters thick. Cut with cookie cutters into whatever shapes you like. Stars, crescents, circles. Carinthians aren't fussy about shape, just about flavor. Gather the scraps, press them together gently, chill for ten minutes if they've softened, and roll again. You should get about forty cookies.
Place the cookies on the prepared baking sheets with a centimeter of space between them. They spread a little but not much. Bake for twelve to fourteen minutes, until the edges darken slightly and the centers feel just set when you press them gently. The color change is subtle because the dough is already dark, so trust your nose. When the kitchen smells like warm honey and toasted grain, check them. They'll feel soft coming out of the oven but firm up as they cool. Let them rest on the baking sheet for five minutes, then transfer to a wire rack.
Once completely cool, store the cookies in an airtight tin with a sheet of parchment between each layer. Here's the secret Carinthian grandmothers know: these cookies are better on day three than day one. The honey softens the crumb, the spices meld, and the buckwheat flavor rounds out into something deeper and more complex. If you can wait, wait. If you can't, I understand completely. Mahlzeit!
1 serving (about 16g)
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