
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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Little marzipan potatoes rolled in cocoa and cinnamon, the bite-sized confection that tumbles out of every Austrian cookie tin from the first Sunday of Advent until Epiphany.
In my grandmother Eva's kitchen in Deal, a tin of Marzipankartoffeln appeared on the first of December and was empty by the fifth. Every year. Gretel always said that the sign of a good Keksdose was that the Marzipankartoffeln vanished first, before anyone touched the Vanillekipferl or the Linzer Augen. She was right. They're the thing your hand reaches for without asking your brain.
They look like tiny potatoes. That's the whole joke, and it never stops being charming. You take good marzipan, knead it soft, roll it into small lumpy shapes, and dust them in cocoa powder so they look like they just came out of the earth. Some people poke little indentations with a toothpick to mimic the eyes of a real potato. Gretel did this. My grandmother thought it was unnecessary fussing. I do it anyway because it made Gretel smile.
The secret is the marzipan itself. If you start with good Rohmarzipan, the kind with a high almond content and not too much sugar, you barely need to do anything to it. A splash of rum, a little powdered sugar to make it workable, and your hands. That's it. No oven, no thermometer, no technique more complicated than rolling a ball between your palms. This is the recipe I give to people who say they can't make Christmas sweets. Twenty minutes later they have a plate of perfect little potatoes and the confidence to try something harder next.
Marzipan has been made in Austria since at least the 14th century, arriving through Mediterranean trade routes and finding a permanent home in the Konditorei traditions of Vienna, Salzburg, and Graz. Marzipankartoffeln belong to a wider Central European tradition of trompe-l'oeil confections, sweets shaped to look like fruits, vegetables, and other everyday objects, which became fashionable in aristocratic kitchens during the Baroque period. By the 19th century they had moved from palace tables to bourgeois cookie tins, becoming one of the most recognizable treats of the Austrian Advent season.
Quantity
200g
minimum 50% almond content
Quantity
50g
sifted
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Stroh rum preferred
Quantity
2-3 drops
Quantity
3 tablespoons
for rolling
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
for rolling
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| Rohmarzipan (raw marzipan)minimum 50% almond content | 200g |
| powdered sugarsifted | 50g |
| dark rumStroh rum preferred | 1 tablespoon |
| pure almond extract (optional) | 2-3 drops |
| Dutch-process cocoa powderfor rolling | 3 tablespoons |
| ground cinnamonfor rolling | 1/2 teaspoon |
Break the Rohmarzipan into rough pieces and place it in a bowl with the sifted powdered sugar and the rum. Knead with your hands until everything comes together into a smooth, pliable mass. This takes two or three minutes. The warmth of your hands softens the marzipan and the rum loosens it. If it feels dry and crumbly, add a few more drops of rum. If it's sticky and clings to your fingers, dust your hands lightly with powdered sugar. You're looking for the texture of soft modelling clay: smooth, holds its shape, doesn't crack when you roll it.
Pinch off small pieces of marzipan, about the size of a hazelnut or a large marble. Roll each one between your palms into a rough oval. Don't make them too round. Real potatoes aren't perfect spheres, and neither should these be. A few lumps and asymmetries are what you want. If you like, press the tip of a toothpick or wooden skewer into each piece three or four times to create small dimples that mimic the eyes of a potato. This is the step that makes people smile.
Combine the cocoa powder and cinnamon in a shallow bowl or plate. Stir them together with a fork. The cinnamon is subtle but essential. Pure cocoa on its own looks ashy and flat. The cinnamon warms it, gives it that ruddy brown that actually looks like potato skin. This is the difference between Marzipankartoffeln that look convincing and ones that just look like brown balls.
Drop three or four marzipan pieces at a time into the cocoa mixture. Roll them gently with a fork or your fingers until they're evenly coated. Lift them out and shake off the excess. The coating should be thin and even, like the dusty skin of a real potato. Set the finished Kartoffeln on a sheet of baking parchment. Work through the rest of the batch.
Let the Marzipankartoffeln sit uncovered at room temperature for an hour to let the surface firm up slightly. Then pile them into a tin, a bowl, or a paper bag twisted shut. They look best tumbled together in a heap, like you just dug them up. Mahlzeit!
1 serving (about 7g)
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