Londoner Schnitten

There's a recipe in my flour-stained notebook that I've circled three times in red ink. Londoner Schnitten. London Slices. I don't know who first gave these their name, but I know what it means to me. My grandmother Eva spent her whole adult life in England, a Kindertransport child who landed in Kent and never went back. Gretel Beer ended up in London. Two Viennese women baking Austrian pastries in English kitchens, and here was a recipe that already had one foot in each world. I grew up eating these every December in Eva's kitchen in Deal, cut into careful little rectangles and stacked on a plate next to the Vanillekipferl.

The construction is pure Viennese Konditorei thinking: three layers, each one doing a job. A buttery Mürbteig base that holds everything together, firm and crumbly and sweet. A thin, bright layer of Ribiselmarmelade (red currant jam) that cuts through the richness like a sharp remark at a polite dinner. And on top, a walnut meringue that bakes into something between a macaron and a praline, crunchy on the surface and chewy just underneath, with the warm earthiness of toasted walnuts running through it.

You bake these on a tray and cut them into small rectangles once they've cooled completely. Small, because they're rich. One or two with a cup of strong coffee is a full Jause. At Christmas, they belong on the cookie plate alongside Vanillekipferl and Linzer Augen, holding their own against every other Weihnachtsbäckerei on the table. Gretel always said the mark of a good Christmas baker is that her Schnitten are still crisp and perfect on the third day. These will be.