Tag Archives: biscuits

{12} Speculaasbrokken

I had grand plans to make something from the Netherlands this year – the duivekater, a Christmas loaf which a long history that even appears in famous artwork from the Dutch Golden Age. Well, you can see from the name of this post that it is not what happened. I did manage to make a duivekater for Christmas day, and it was certainly delicious, but I did it all in something of a rush. So much so that it ended up looking like something that would not have been out of place on cakewrecks rather than being the jolly photogenic festive centrepiece I had in mind. Of course I will give it another go, so I’ve already added it to my list for next year’s baking.

But this leaves me with one bake missing. So what to do? Well, something else, obviously! I’ve reflected on all the complex, intricate things I made this year, and have decided to go in the opposite direction this time. I’ve made speculaasbrokken, which are simple, quick and delicious. You might think that I made something a bit fancy and then dropped it by mistake, but this is what they should look like – the name means “pieces” or “chunks” of speculaas, or Dutch spiced biscuits.


Speculaas cookies is a key part of Christmas in the Netherlands, and you can find the famous “windmill cookies” with their intricate designs formed using wooden moulds, and more simple “spiced nuts” which are rolled into little balls and baked. You can make the special speculaas spice mixture yourself if you have the time and inclination, otherwise you can used mixed spice or pumpkin spice for a similar effect. Whatever you do, make sure you’re pretty generous with the spices!

The method here is really easy. You throw everything in a bowl, make a dough, then chill it, roll it and bake it. Either make one mega-cookie or four smaller ones. After baking, you can either break it into pieces and serve it à la manière rustique but I think there is something quite satisfying and a little bit dramatic about brining it whole to the table and then smashing it in front of your guests. 

To make speculaasbrokken:

• 300g plain white flour
150g unsalted butter
160g dark brown sugar
• 6 teaspoons mixed spices
1/2 teaspoon salt (skip if using salted butter)
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
2 tablespoons cold water
whole or flaked almonds, for decoration

1. Put all the ingredients apart from the water and almonds into a bowl, and work with your fingers until it looks like breadcrumbs. Add enough cold water to make a soft dough. Wrap in cling film, flatten, and chill for 30 minutes.

2. Preheat the oven to 170°C (340°F). Line a baking sheet with greaseproof paper.

3. Roll the dough out to 3/4 cm thickness – you can do it in one large pieces, or make 4 separate pieces. Brush with milk and put almonds on top. If you are using whole almonds, you can make some sort of pattern, or you can use flaked almonds, in which case just sprinkle and press them down.

4. Bake the speculaas for around 45 minutes until it is dark looks evenly cooked. Turn half-way for an even colour.

5. Remove from the oven and allow to cool. Then either break it into pieces to store, or keep it whole and smash it when you have guests for maximum impact.

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{11} Brabanzerl

I’ve always assumed there must be lots and lots of delicious biscuits, cakes and sweets in Austria around Christmas and New Year. I think of those beautiful squares, twinkling with lights and lined with markets. But I must have been doing my research in the wrong way, as for such a long time I just kept finding recipes for crescent-shaped Kipferl  or jam-filled Linzer Augen. They are delicious, but surely there was more?

Well, finally I have managed to find some other sources of inspiration! I came across (and swiftly bought) a German book called Weihnachtsplätzchen by Angelika Schwalber. She features a recipe for Brabanzerl. I would love to be able to say that there is some sort of fascinating history behind them, and there may well be, but I was not able to find out anything. But it does seem that people love them.

These are two pieces of hazelnut and chocolate shortbread, filled with fruity redcurrant jelly, and coated in chocolate. They looked a little complex, but I remembered that I had some jars of redcurrant jelly in the jam drawer that I had made from fruit I grew in the garden. Clearly this was a sign I had to make them! For making jam from your own fruit in central London is rather a big deal, since gardens are generally the size of a postage stamp. The little lad and I were very pleased we managed to get five pounds of fruit from a single bush, and we got five decent jars of ruby-red jelly as our reward.


I will be totally honest – these biscuits are a labour of love. You need to make the dough, which is very soft. It is unusually made with melted chocolate, and it then needs to be chilled so you can work with it, so that means lots of getting to know your fridge really well. Once you’ve made the very fragile shortbread, you fill it with jelly, and then you need to coat them in chocolate. And that chocolate needs to be tempered to get a good snap and that appealing sheen. The recipe I was following suggested dipping them in dark chocolate, then using milk chocolate for decoration, so that means two lots of tempering. I can do it, but it is a bit of a palaver in the kitchen, although I do get a thrill when it works out right. As a testament to how much work they are, I styled a picture of the cookies on a fancy gold plate, with some dried thistles and pine cones I collected in holiday this year in Scotland. I don’t normally add props, but Brabanzerl seem like the sort of festive cookie that deserve some special treatment.


If you are going to make these, I would recommend doing it over several days. I did this and the result was great, and it really would be enough to drive most people to distraction to try to do it all in one go. But they really were worth the effort. The shortbread is soft and crumbly, flavoured beautifully with the hazelnuts and chocolate. Then you have the jammy filling, and here you want a good jam or jelly with a strong, tart flavour. I used redcurrant jelly, but you could also use high-fruit raspberry or blackcurrant jam, or even a tangy marmalade. Apricot might also work it you want a nod to the traditional flavours of the famous Austrian Sachertorte. This fruity filling balances the dark chocolate, and the result is sublime. They look elegant, and taste refined.

I decorated them by doing a series of lines in milk chocolate. For variation, I also tried some swirls which I think looked fine, but the lines definitely look more polished. It was quite an effort. A lot of effort. But these little morsels of festive deliciousness could well have become one of my new festive favourites. Way to go Austria!

To make Brabenzerl (makes around 25)

For the dough

• 50g dark chocolate
• 150g flour
• 50g icing sugar
• salt
• 50g ground hazelnuts
• 150g butter
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the filling

• 150g redcurrant jelly, or another tangy jelly or jam*

For the decoration

• 300g dark chocolate
• around 25 blanched almonds
100g milk chocolate

1. Make the dough. Gently melt the chocolate (use a double boiler or the microwave), then put in a bowl with the other ingredients and quickly knead to a soft dough. It will be very soft and slightly sticky. Wrap in cling film and leave to rest overnight in the fridge.

2. The next day, preheat the oven to 170°C (335°F). Line two baking trays with greaseproof paper.

3. Roll out the dough between two sheets of greaseproof paper to around 3-4mm. Form the cookies using a scalloped cutter (around 4cm diameter), and transfer to the baking sheets. The will spread slightly, so leave enough space between them. Gather the scraps and chill again in the fridge. Put the cookie trays in the fridge or freezer for a few minutes before baking.

4. Bake the cookies for 8 minutes, turning half-way to get even bake. Remove from the oven and allow to cool before transferring to a wire rack – they are very fragile when warm, but will firm up as they cool.

5. Now it is time to fill the Brabanzerl! Melt the redcurrant jelly (or jam) in a saucepan – if using something with seeds, then strain to remove them. Leave to cool slightly so it starts to thicken, then coat half of the biscuits. Sandwich together.

6. Dipping time! Melt and temper the dark chocolate. Dip the top and sides of the Brabanzerl in the chocolate. Transfer to a sheet of greaseproof paper. Press a whole almond into the centre. Next (if you want to and have time) melt and temper the milk chocolate and use this to pipe decorative lines or swirls on the edges of the cookies.

(*) If you are using jam or marmalade rather than jelly, you need 150g after you have removed any seeds and skins. Just melt the jam in a saucepan, then pass through a sieve.

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{10} Krumkaker

I’m a sucker for any recipe that involves a piece of specialist equiptment. Today’s recipe is for Norwegian krumkaker and needs a special waffle iron with an intricate patter to make them. So of course I had to get hold of one!


The name krumkaker literally means “bent cakes” and this is apt, as you make a waffle with a rich batter infused with aromatic cardamom, and when they are cooked, you quickly wrap them around something conical to get their distinctive shape. There is a specialist wooden tool for this, but I used a sugar cone (still in its packaging) I had in the kitchen. I think the curve is supposed to be a bit tighter, but you get the idea.


Now, I have to admit I have a little bit of an advantage here as a first time krumkake-maker. I’ve previously made Italian pizzelle which are similar but smaller wafers that are left flat. When I made pizzelle, I had a real problem with getting the iron to work properly when I made them, so I was fully expecting similar tribulations with krumkaker. I oiled up the hot iron, and waited for the first two attempts to be messy. And I was not disappointed!

I got the exciting task of picking off the dry bits that had stuck to the iron, and again applied oil for attempt number three. And this time it worked like a dream! Perhaps it was just a touch on the dark side, but this was just a matter of getting the temperature and timings right, and from that point I was sailing. The other trick that I had to master was where exactly on the iron the batter had to make contact. The very centre seemed to result in asymmetric wafers, as the batter would be pushed forward and squirt out the front. The answer was to place it a bit further back, then gently close the lid. This would get the batter in the centre when it mattered, and then I could give it all a good squeeze to get a nice, thin and reasonable even wafer.

Once you’ve made the pile o’cones, you can eat them as they are – they are sweet and delicious thanks to that cardamom, and I think they do taste best when they are very fresh. But they can also be filled. If you have kids around, then they will festive ice cream cones if you can handle the pretty high change that they will shatter as they are more fragile that proper cones. The other option is to enjoy them filled with whipped cream and fruit. If want to go properly Nordic, try to find some cloudberry jam, and mix this with whipped cream to make multekrem. Use it to fill your krumkaker for a truly Norwegian experience.

To make Krumkaker (makes around 20 large wafers)

• 200g caster sugar
115g unsalted butter
2 large eggs
240ml whole milk
200g plain flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons ground cardamom
vegetable oil, to grease the iron

1. In a large bowl, beat the butter and sugar until fluffy. Add the eggs and beat until the mixture is light and pale yellow. Beat in the cardamom, then add the flour and baking powder, and finally the milk. Whisk until smooth – don’t worry if it looks like it has split. Cover and leave to rest for 30 minutes. When you come back, it should look thicker. Whisk again to make sure it is smooth.

2. Heat a krumkake iron or pizzelle maker on a medium heat (don’t crank it up to full, or the wafers will burn). The iron is ready when a drop of water on top of the closed iron sizzles and quickly evaporates.

3. Open the iron and brush each side very lightly with vegetable oil. Add a tablespoon of batter and close the iron. Cook for 30 seconds on one side, then flip over and cook for another 30 seconds. Check how it is doing, and cook for a little longer if needed. Remove the krumkake from the iron and roll it into a tube or around a cone – do this fast as they will quickly cook and become crisp. Alternatively you can roll them around the handle of a wooden spoon to make a tube.

4. Serve the krumkake as they are, or fill them with whipped cream and fresh fruit. If you are making them in advance, keep them in an airtight container to keep them crisp.

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{8} Broas Castelares

I’ve looked for quite a long time for a Christmas recipe for Portugal. I’ve found ideas galore from Spain and Italy, but for some reason I wasn’t seeing anything from the Lusophere. That is, until now.

I’ve made little sweet potato cakes called broas castelares. The name means “Castile corn breads” and they are named after their creators, the Castelar brothers who ran a bakery called the Confeitaria Francesa, or French Patisserie, in Lisbon. It was founded in 1860 and stood in the Rua do Ouro, or “Street of Gold”, which I think is rather fitting given the colour of these cakes.


Now I say “cakes” but this recipe is a very different way of baking to the festive recipes I have tried before. This is based on sweet potato puree, which I made by roasting some sweet potatoes and scooping out the tender flesh. I thought this would give a better flavour than boiling as it would keep (and perhaps even concentrate) their flavour. Then you mix this with sugar, and the whole lot turns from sort-of-fluffy mash into a gloopy, soupy mass – I’ve seen this before making a Scottish potato-based sweet, and it seems odd that you can add dry sugar to something and it seems to get wetter!

I saw a few different versions of this recipe with different amounts of sugar. These seemed to split into Portuguese recipes and then those from everyone else. The home of Fado makes extremely liberal use of sugar, so I figured that it was safe to assume these little guys were going to be on the sweet side. This expectation was further supported by lots of non-Portuguese bakers trying to cut down the amount of sugar. Choices, choices. In the end, I decided to plump for a more authentic Portuguese version. This is a Christmas sweet after all! The version I went with came from the website of Lisbon City Council. Surely these guys would get it right?


The actual recipe is fascinating – the base is sweet potato (the orange ones, not the white ones) that you turn into a basic jammy paste. Then you mix in eggs, and add a veritable cornucopia of other nice things – ground almonds, cornmeal, coconut and orange zest. Some of the recipes suggested adding cinnamon to taste – I skipped this, but I think this could be a nice addition. You then end up with one of the stickiest doughs I’ve worked with. You leave it to chill overnight, and I thought the dry ingredients would have soaked up some of the liquid and made a thicker dough. I was wrong. The next day, it was slightly thicker but still seemed to be as sticky! But the way to deal with this is to have a plate with some neutral oil on it, and keep your hands well-coated. Any by coated, I mean pressing your palm into it, pretty often as it turned out. Then nothing sticks!

Shaping the broas was easy, provided you are making liberal use of that oil. Take a tablespoon of the mixture, roll to a ball, then form into an oval shape – I noticed that longer, slimmer ovals kept their shape better than shorter, fatter ones. The skinny ones set and keep their shape, the more squat ones seemed to spread more. Then make (or try to make) a little dent in the middle so they look like golden giant coffee beans. They are then finished with an egg yolk glaze, and baked in a hot oven.


And how do they taste? Amazing! I expected something more cake-life and reminiscent of cornbread, albeit sweet, but in fact they are more like marzipan, so I would call them a type of candy rather than a bread or a cake. As I expected, they are extremely sweet – sweet, sweet, sweet! Delicious, but for me this is something you want to eat with strong coffee or tea, rather than with mulled wine unless you’re the sort of person that wants to embrace hyperglycemia. The good thing is you can serve a tray of these and be confident that people will self-police and no-one will scoff the lot.

I hope you like this. I wasn’t sure I would and I am completely convinced. Obrigado e feliz natal!

To make Broas Castelares (makes around 40-45)

For the dough

• 1 large or 2 medium sweet potatoes (at least 500g), to yield 400g cooked flesh
• 700g soft brown sugar
• 125g ground almonds
• 50g desiccated coconut
• 125g cornmeal (fine polenta, not corn starch)
• 75g plain flour
• 3 medium eggs
• Zest of 1 orange

To finish

• vegetable oil, for your hands to work the dough
• 2 beaten egg yolks, to glaze
• tablespoon of water

1. Heat the oven to 200°C (400°F). Prick the sweet potato, then put in the oven and bake until it is soft. You should be easily insert a knife. This will take 45-60 minutes. When done, remove from the oven, cut the potato in half and scoop out the flesh – you want 400g of cooked sweet potato.

2. Put the cooked sweet potato flesh in a saucepan, and mash it. Do this manually – if you use a blender it may affect the texture. Add half the sugar and mix – it will look a bit transparent and become wetter. Cook over a medium heat for around 5 minutes, stirring constantly. It is done when you pull a wooden spoon across the base and leaves a clean trail that holds for a few seconds. Remove from the head and leave to cool to lukewarm.

3. Put the potato mixture in a large bowl. Add the eggs, and mix well. Stir in the remaining sugar, ground almonds, coconut, orange zest, flour and cornmeal. Mix to a smooth batter – it will be thick but sticky. Cover and chill overnight.

4. The next day, preheat the oven to 200°C (400°F). Prepare a few sheets of greaseproof paper and rub each with some vegetable oil.

5. Get your hands covered with vegetable oil, and keep some extra within easy reach to re-coat your hands as needed. Take a tablespoon of the mixture and roll it into a ball. Now shape into a long oval between your palms. Place on the greaseproof paper, then flatten and make a dent in the centre so they look a bit like coffee beans. Repeat until the sheet is covered – they will spread slightly so leave at least 5cm between them.

6. Make the glaze – mix the two egg yolks with a tablespoon of cold water, and mix well.

7. Slide the tray under the paper, then glaze the broas. I found it best to do this just before baking, and really get in around the sides and base as this seems to help them keep their shape. Bake for 15 minutes – the top might look mottled and very dark in some places, but this is normal. Leave for a moment to cool and set, then transfer to a wire tray.

Note: the broas are a little crisper on the outside when they are fresh, but will soften if you store them overnight in an airtight container.

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{7} Cordiales de Murcia

I am a big fan of marzipan, so Cordiales de Murcia really caught my eye. They are traditional sweets that originate in the town of Pacheco in Murcia, Spain. Their filling is also a little unusual – cabello de ángel, a sort of pumpkin jam.


The name cabello de ángel means “angel’s hair” and comes from the texture of the pumpkin. When cooked, the flesh of the pumpkin separates into lots and lots of strands. It is turned into jam and flavoured with citrus and sometimes a dash of cinnamon, but the pumpkin keeps quite a bit of its texture, so think of it as being candied more than turning into a jam. I find it tastes a bit like apple jam, maybe with a hint of apricot. I’d had this in pastries on visits to Spain, and it took me a while to work out what the filling was, since it seemed to be apple but wasn’t quite.

Anyway, I had a jar of this stuff in my store cupboard for ages from a trip to Spain last year. I had planned to use then, got everything ready to make these cordiales and then remembered that at the end of summer I had used it all in the based of a quick apple tart. If I was going to make them, I would have to hunt high and low for a pretty niche ingredient, for it turns out that unlike membrillo, manchego or chorizo, you quite quickly find that cabello de ángel is not really stocked anywhere easy.


The Spanish supermarket near Ladbroke Grove was reporting on their website that they had sold out, so I had to trawl a number of websites to find one that, firstly, sold the stuff, and secondly, would be able to deliver it quite quickly. The good news is I managed (even if it meant paying a lot more than I would have had to do if I had been organised!). But if you don’t have cabello de ángel then you could use Spanish sweet potato paste or quince paste, or in fact any sort of very firm jam or fruit paste. You just want to avoid something too liquid, which could melt and pour out of the sweets during baking.


The actual baking process is quite easy – you make marzipan, then work out how to stuff it. The dough is quite soft, so I found the easiest way was to put a piece on some greaseproof paper or cling film, then cover and squash it flat. Then you can add some jam to the middle, and gather the edges up without everything sticking to your fingers. My first few attempts were cake-wrecks, so just do a bit of trial and error and find a method that works for you.

Once you’ve stuffed your cordiales, you need to shape them and it is traditional to place them on a circle of wafer. I normally don’t do this as the brand of greaseproof paper I use never ever sticks to whatever I am baking, and there is enough oil from the almonds to prevent sticking, but I wanted to go traditional here.

Now, I’ve mentioned the effort I went to in order to get that pumpkin jam? Well there were some recipes that suggested using discs of communion wafer, but by this point my commitment to authenticity had fallen asleep by the roadside, so I got hold of some rice paper and cut out circles of that. In fact, this actually worked really well, as you are able to shape them really easily and move them around on their pieces of rice paper (or wafers).

The most important question is, of course, how did they taste? Absolutely delicious. The marzipan has that lovely flavour of almonds and lemon from the zest, and the filling keeps the filling soft and is a little like apricot or even a gentle marmalade. They are slightly crisp when you’ve just baked them, and if you like them softer, just keep them overnight in a sealed container, and they will soften right up. All in all, a lovely addition to the festive table, provided that you’re willing to track down the right sort of filling, and you’ve got the patience for lots of shaping and stuffing!

To make Cordiales de Murcia (makes around 25-30):

• 250g ground almonds
• 1 teaspoon almond extract
• 200g caster sugar
• 2 medium eggs, beaten
• zest of 1/2 lemon
• 200g cabello de ángel jam

1. Make the marzipan mixture. Combine the ground almonds, almond extract, sugar and lemon zest. Mix well, then add one beaten egg. Mix, and then add enough of the second beaten egg to make a marzipan. It should be soft enough to work with, but not wet or sticky. I used just over half of the second egg. If you add to much egg, just add equal amounts of almonds and sugar to get a texture you can work with.

2. Preheat the oven to 170°C (340°F). Line two baking sheets with greaseproof paper.

3. Pinch off walnut-sized pieces of the marzipan. Flatten between two pieces of greaseproof paper. Add a small teaspoon of the angel hair jam (the size of a small grape). Fold the marzipan around the jam, seal, and roll into a ball.

3. Place the ball on a piece of rice paper, and shape to a slight cone with your fingers. Repeat until all the marzipan has been used up.

4. Bake the cookies for around 20-25 minutes until golden but not dark. Turn the tray half-way to get an even colour. Remove from the oven and leave to cool

5. To serve, dust lightly with icing sugar. Go easy, as these things are sweet, so you’re dusting for effect more than anything.

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{6} Canestrelli

No selection of festive baking is complete without at least one trip to Italy, so here goes!


These cookies are canstrelli. They originate from the northern province of Liguria and their name means “little baskets”. They might look like simple shortbread cookies flavoured with lemon and vanilla, but they do have one little twist.

They are enriched with cooked egg yolks, which are crumbled and then added to the mixture. I thought this seemed pretty weird, but from my online digging, this does indeed seem to be the correct way to make them. This technique even appeared in this year’s Great British Bake Off. While it caused a raised eyebrows among the judges, the resulting biscuits were praised when it came to tasting time. So I had to try it!


I happened to make these after agreeing to make a bunch of macarons for a party, so I was left with egg yolks that had already been separated. I thought about trying to make them with uncooked egg yolks, but that would have resulted in a different consistency and we’d possibly be missing out on making authentic canstrelli. I then wondered if I could cook the yolks separately, and then I found some sites that suggested that you can cook the yolks on their own by poaching gently in simmering water. I did this, and it was a complete doddle. Just bring the water to a simmer, gently add the yolks, and simmer for about 5 minutes. When cooked, I transferred them to cold water, and then used them in the recipe.

When it comes to shaping these cookies, you can go with whatever shape you like, but the traditional one is a flower with the centre cut out so they look like a daisy. Normally I just roll dough out using flour, but this time I did it between two sheets of greaseproof paper to avoid adding more flour to the dough. Since it was cold and contained a lot of butter, there was no sticking and it worked easily. I’ll admit it is a little more of a faff than using flour, but it does mean you can roll up all the scraps and make more cookies, and the first ones will be the same as the last ones. If you’ve wondered by the end of a batch seem to look different to the first ones, it’s the extra flour you’re incorporating as you roll and re-roll those offcuts.


The resulting canstrelli were delicious – they have a very short texture and buttery flavour, enhanced with the vanilla and lemon. They are rich, but not in any way though, as you’re not really adding any liquid (which would have been the case if I had used uncooked egg yolks in the dough). So there we have it – two new baking techniques (well, new for me) that I look forward to trying elsewhere in the New Year!

To make Canestrelli (makes around 30-35)

• 150g flour
• 100g cornflour
• 75g icing sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• zest of 1 lemon
• 150g butter
• 1 vanilla pod, seeds only
• 3 egg yolks, hard boiled

1. Mix the flour, cornflour, icing sugar and salt. Sieve to ensure if is well-combined and there are no lumps.

2. Add the lemon zest, vanilla seeds and extracts (or vanilla bean paste) and cold butter. Mix with your hands until just combined (or whizz in a food processor).

3. Now take those egg yolks. Press these through a very fine sieve. Add to the mixing bowl, then knead the lot until it comes together as a pliable dough. Flatten to a disc, wrap in cling film and leave to rest in the fridge for an hour.

4. Preheat the oven to 170°C (340°F). Line a baking sheet with greaseproof paper.

5. Remove the dough from the fridge. Roll out on a floured worktop or between two sheets of greaseproof paper to around 1cm thickness. Cut out flower or scalloped shapes and then cut a circle from the middle (a round piping nozzle is good for this). Transfer each to the baking sheet. Chill the cookies in the fridge for 2 minutes.

6. Put the cookies in the oven and bake for around 15 minutes until pale golden – I recommend turning the tray half-way, and keep a close eye on them. Go by colour rather than time.

7. Remove from the oven and allow to cool for a moment – the cookies will be fragile. Transfer to a cooling rack.

8. Store in an airtight tin, and dredge with icing sugar before serving.

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{2} Finska Pinnar

As much as I love mince pies and things coated in chocolate, I also like more simple cookies, so that’s what we’ve got today.


These are Swedish butter biscuits called finska pinnar. The name translates cryptically as “Finnish pins”. I’ve tried to find out why they are called this but with no success. I did find an article on the website of the august Swedish Newspaper Svenska Dagbladet and even they don’t know the origin of the name. A mystery for the ages.

These are very quick and easy cookies to make – there is no elaborate rolling and shaping of cookies. You just roll it out, flatten with your hands, and cut into pieces, so this is a good one to make with children where you want to keep it easy. There is also no need to leave the dough to chill before you shape it, which is good when willing but impatient elves are keen to get going!


The dough itself is not that sweet, so you are relying a generous topping of chopped almonds and pearl sugar. You need an egg yolk for the dough, and then you use the egg white to glaze the tops. The art is then to get as much chopped almonds and pearl sugar on top, so you’ve got extra sweetness and some crunch to contrast with the buttery shortbread.

Of course, it would not by my Christmas basking selection if there was not some sort of random ingredient in here. Many recipes I looked at call for a bitter almonds to give finska pinnar their almond flavour. That’s the way to go if you’re keen on a bit of drama and some danger in your life, as apparently you need to be careful just how many you use. They contain cyanide and can be toxic if you eat too much! In the end I went for the easier option and just added a dash of almond extract to get all the flavour without the danger. Okay, so I might be exaggerating just a touch for dramatic effect…

To make Finska Pinnar (makes around 40)

For the dough

• 375g plain flour
• 250g unsalted butter
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 125g caster sugar
• 1 teaspoon almond extract
• 1 egg yolk

To decorate

1 egg white
40g whole almonds, roughly chopped
pearl sugar or granulated sugar

1. Preheat the oven to 200°C. Prepare three sheets of greaseproof paper.

2. Put the flour, butter, salt, sugar and almond extract into a bowl. Rub together until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Add the egg yolk and quickly mix to a soft dough.

3. Divide the dough into 4 pieces. Roll each into a long rope, about finger thickness. Press them lightly to around 1/2 cm thickness. Cut into 4cm slices.

4. Transfer the cookies to the greaseproof paper. Brush lightly with the beaten egg white, then sprinkle generously with chopped almonds and pearl sugar. Put on a tray, and chill in the fridge for a few minutes.

5. Bake for 8-10 minutes until golden, turning half-way to get an even colour. Remove from the oven, allow to rest for a moment, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

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{9} Snickerdoodles

You wait ages for some American Christmas cookies to make an appearance here, then two come along in quick succession. We had bizcochitos a few days ago, and now we’ve got New England’s snickerdoodles.

Snickerdoodle. It’s a funny name, eh? With a moniker like that, there is obviously some sort of fascinating story, and…well…I did look, but I didn’t actually find anything conclusive.

The obviously-always-reliable Wikipedia suggests the name is Dutch or German in origin and is actually a corruption of the German Schneckennudeln (the appetizing “snail dumpling”). But given the word ‘cookie’ comes from the Dutch koekje maybe the name has its origins in New Amsterdam rather than New England? It certainly sounds to anglophone ears like something a stereotypical Dutch character would stay on a comedy show. So I wondered if the name could be a more random literal translation. Well, the Dutch words snikker-doedel could be translated as “squeaky bagpipe”, but that really is getting rather silly. But hey, it’s Christmas, and I usually spend December 1/3 full of marzipan, 2/5 full of mulled wine and the rest full of chocolate and mince pies, so I’m really not so fussed.

Anyway, this crazy talk of squeaky bagpipes links to the other name origin theory, which is that New Englanders are apparently quite partial to whimsical names for their baking. This story sort of works, with other local names including Joe Frogger cookies (molasses, rum and nutmeg) and Hermit cookies (sultanas and raisins). Honestly, it is not exactly the long list of whimsical names I had hoped for, so I’m going with the corrupted German name story if it’s all the same.


That is enough talk about the name. What about the taste? These little guys are all about the cinnamon. It’s one of my favourite spices (the other being cardamom) and I’ll devour anything with a good dose of the stuff in it.

The recipe and flavour seems to be pretty universal – buttery dough (which might or might not have vanilla) that is rolled in cinnamon sugar before baking, and often with a traditional wrinkled and cracked appearance on top. Isn’t it nice when we all agree? Well, there is debate. There is a clear split in the world of snickerdoodle fans, is between those that like them chewy and those that prefer them to be more cake-like. Maybe it is being British that makes me prefer cookies that are either crisp or chewy. Anyway, my version are slightly chewy, which strikes a happy balance between the two.

When it comes to flavours, I’m usually all for experimenting. But this is one of those times when you just don’t need to. In fact, you probably shouldn’t mess around. Snickerdoodles are for lovers of cinnamon, and that’s why you would make them. I can’t imagine using any other spice to make these (clove cookies? Just…no!).

So happy snickerdoodling. Is it a verb? I really think it ought to be. And long may your bagpipes squeak!

To make snickerdoodles (makes around 30):

For the dough:

• 330g plain flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 teaspoons cream of tartar
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 225g butter
• 300g caster sugar
• 2 large eggs

For the cinnamon sugar:

• 100g caster sugar
• 2 tablespoons ground cinnamon

1. Mix the flour, baking soda, cream of tartar and salt. Sieve, and put to one side.

2. In a large bowl, beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the flour mixture and mix well until combined. The dough will be fairly sticky. Wrap it in cling film and chill for at least an hour, or overnight.

3. Preheat the oven to 180°C (355°F). Line a baking sheet with greaseproof paper.

4. Make the cinnamon sugar: mix the sugar and cinnamon, and place in a bowl for later.

5. Take pieces of the dough the size of a large walnut (around 30g) and form into a ball. Roll the ball in the cinnamon sugar. Place on the baking sheet and flatten slightly, leaving plenty of space for the cookies to expand. I baked them in batches, 8 per tray.

6. Bake the snickerdoodles for around 8-10 minutes (turning the tray half-way) until they have expanded and flattened. They will be soft when you take them out, but they will firm up and go a bit wrinkly as they cool. Immediately sprinkle over a little more cinnamon sugar, then transfer to a wire tray to cool completely.

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{5} Biberle

I’m sticking with the Swiss theme for this next bake. These little cookies are called Biberle, or gingerbread almond nuggets if you’re after a clunky translation. I tried to find out what the name means – Biber is German for beaver, so they could mean “little beavers” which I like. If someone knows for sure, let me know. Their shape sort of looks like a beaver’s tail, so maybe I’m right after all?

Biberle hail from the St Gallen area and they are the thing you want when you fancy something that is a bit like gingerbread and a bit like marzipan. There are two types – round cookies filled with marzipan and the tops elaborately decorated using moulds, and these versions which are the less fancy roll-and-slice cousins.


Biberle might look like a bit of a faff to make, but they are actually fairly straightforward. You make a simple spiced honey and flour dough, and leave it to sit for a few days so that the spice flavour gets a chance to develop. Then when you’ve got a moment in your busy week, you just need to roll it out, add a long thin log of marzipan, and wrap it in the gingerbread dough. Then slice into funky little trapezoid shapes, bake and you’re done.

I was a little wary of making these at first as the dough is not much more than flour, spices and honey. I’ve made something similar in the past – couques de Dinant but they were rock-hard, and it turned out the idea was you just gnawed at them slowly. I wasn’t too keen to have something similarly tough here. However, the recipe is made with some baking soda, which had a bit of an unexpected effect. When I added it, it reacted a little as the honey was still slightly warm. I left the dough to rest for four days and when I came back it had puffed up. Perhaps the dough was otherwise a little acidic or the soda reacted with the honey? I don’t know, but it did mean the dough was workable. I did wonder if that meant that any lift that the soda was going to give had gone, but there was no need to worry – the baking soda did its thing a third time in the oven, and the gingerbread element was pleasingly puffed up.


For the filling, you are looking for proper marzipan – the stuff that is mostly almonds. Check a packet next time you’re in a store – very often the stuff called “marzipan” might only have 25% nuts in it. This can be easily fixed – either buy a high-nut marzipan/almond paste (i.e. more than 50% almonds) or just make it yourself! All you need are ground almonds, icing sugar and something to bind the lot together. I used a couple of spoons of glucose and a little water, plus almond extract and a dash of rosewater as flavourings. You really could go crazy when you’re making the filling – rum, orange zest, lemon zest, amaretto…the only thing to be a little wary of is that I don’t think you want a filling that is too moist, as it will probably go runny and leak out during baking. Not sure the Swiss would approve of that.

The final thing that is really, really weird in this recipe is the glaze you use to give the Biberle a shiny finish. You toast a tablespoon of cornflour in a pan until it goes brown (well, it goes from white to a very pale brown), then cool it, and mix with water and boil it to make a glaze. Whatever was going on, it seemed to work. Just go with it – if nothing else, you’ve learned a new cooking technique – the cornflour glaze!

When I baked these, the dough was a little hard at first, but that was very easy to sort out. Pop them all in an airtight container with a slice of bread. Leave overnight, and the next day, the bread will be dry and the cookies soft and full of spicy delight. Because if you go to all the effort of making Biberle, you want them to taste their best!

To make Biberle (makes 25) (adapted from here)

For the dough:

• 125g runny floral honey
• 25g soft brown sugar
• 75g plain flour
• 50g light rye flour (or just use more plain flour)
• pinch of salt
• 1 1/2 teaspoons Lebkuchen or pumpkin pie spices
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda

For the marzipan filling:

• 125g ground almonds
• 75g icing sugar
• 2 tablespoons liquid glucose
• almond extract, to taste
• rose water, to taste

For the glaze:

• 1 tablespoon cornflour
• 100ml water

1. Make the dough. Put the honey and sugar in a small saucepan, and heat gently until the sugar has dissolved. Don’t let it boil. Remove from the heat and allow to cool until just warm.

2. Sieve the plain flour, rye flour, salt, spices and baking soda into a large bowl. Add the lukewarm honey mixture and stir until to forms a dough. Cover with cling film and leave to rest (at least overnight, but I left mine for four days).

3. Next, make the marzipan filling. Grind the almonds and icing sugar. Tip into a bowl, add the glucose, and almond extract and rose water to taste. Add a little at a time – you can always add more! Add water if needed to bring everything together to a firm dough. Wrap in cling film and chill for at least an hour.

4. Preheat the oven to 180°C (355°F) and line a baking sheet with greaseproof paper.

5. On a floured worktop, form the dough into a ball, then roll into a sausage about 45cm in length. Now flatten the dough and use a rolling pin to get a strip that is 10cm wide.

6. Take the marzipan, and form into a long log, also 45cm. Brush the dough lightly with water, then place the marzipan on one edge of the dough, and roll it up so that the marzipan is tightly wrapped. Trim the dough if needed, and seal the join.

7. Use a sharp knife to cut the roll into 20-25 pieces. You need to alternate the angle so that the Biberle have a triangular shape, but make sure the dough is connected all the way around.

8. Transfer the cookies to the baking sheet, leaving space between them to expand. Bake for around 12 minutes, turning the tray half-way to get an even colour.

9. While the Biberle are baking, prepare the glaze. Put the cornflour in a saucepan and heat until it turns a pale golden colour. Remove from the heat and cool. Mix with the cold water, the heat and bring to the boil – it should thicken and become less cloudy. Once the Biberle are baked, remove from the oven and brush each one while hot with the glaze. Leave to cool.

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{3} Berlinerkranser

Every Christmas selection has a place for a good old-fashioned buttery biscuit. Stepping up to the role is today’s recipe from Norway. These twisty bakes go by the name Berlinerkranser, or “Berlin wreaths”. Completely logical for a cookies from, eh, not Berlin.


I mean, it’s not as if a Norwegian city name would do. Oslokranser? Bergenkranser? Trondheimkranser? Lillehammerkranser? Tromsøkranser? Really, would none of these have worked? Alas I have not found the origin of the name, but I wonder if the knot shape refers back to German pretzels? If you know, do enlighten me!

It can be very easy to think of butter cookies as not being very interesting. But as with many traditional recipes, it helps to think about where and when they came from. Think back to the late 1800s, and butter would have still been a luxury to some people. This would mean that at Christmas it really was a treat to have something sweet and buttery, rather than something made with lard. Times were hard back then, folks.


Berlinerkranser sometimes make an appearance as part of the Norwegian tradition of syv slags kaker (seven sort of cookies, say that quickly after seven glasses of eggnog), where bakers can get into the competitive spirit of the season. They try to dazzle their guests with their baking skills by filling every biscuit tin in the house with cookies. If you want to have a go at a few other Norwegian treats, you could also turn your hand to serinakaker and sirupsnipper.

There is also an odd feature to Berlinerkranser, or at least something that I’ve never seen in a cookie recipe. Just about every version I’ve seen uses fresh egg yolks as well as hard-boiled egg yolks in the dough. I’m normally happy to try anything, but this one struck me as just a bit too strange. It’s also more work…I’m all for a lazy approach that skips avoidable faffing about…all the more time to watch a schmaltzy festive made-for-TV afternoon movie, probably involving some scrooge-like character in New York who rediscovers the magic of Christmas from the innocence of a young child. So, in a testament to laziness, my recipe uses two fresh egg yolks, but if you want to have a go at the more traditional version, use one fresh and one yolk from a boiled egg.


In terms of flavour, I have kept these very simple and traditional. I’ve seen recipes that add vanilla or citrus zest, but these have just the richness of egg yolks and butter. The only concession I’ve made is to use salted butter, as I think it gives a better and fuller flavour than using unsalted.

One tip for making them – once you start to shape the dough, it is easier to work as it gets slightly warmer and softer. If it is too cold, it will break. Howerver, soft dough will collapse in the oven, so put the whole tray of shaped cookies in the fridge for 15 minutes before putting straight in the oven. Voila – cookies don’t break and they keep their shape.

Now…go forth and make another six types of cookie before your guests arrive. Enjoy!

To make Belinerkranser (makes 20)

For the dough:

• 2 egg yolks
• 80g caster sugar
• 185g plain flour
• 125g salted butter

To finish:

• 1 egg white, beaten
• pearl sugar

1a. If using a hard-boiled egg yolk: push the boiled yolk through a sieve to break it up as much as possible. Add to the other egg yolk and the sugar and beat well for a minute.

1b. If using only fresh yolks: put the yolks and sugar into a bowl and beat well for a minute.

2. Add the flour, mix, then tip in the butter and mix until it forms a soft dough. Add more flour if needed, but remember the dough will firm up when chilled.

3. Wrap the dough in cling film, flatten as best you can, and pop it in the fridge for 30 minutes.

4. Preheat the oven to 175°C (350°F). Line two baking trays with greaseproof paper.

5. Divide the dough into 20 pieces. Take each piece and roll to an 18-20cm rope, and shape the cookies. Place each one on a baking sheet.

6. Chill the shaped cookies for 15 minutes in the fridge, then brush with beaten egg white and sprinkle with pearl sugar.

7. Bake the cookies for around 12-14 minutes until pale golden.  turning the tray around during baking to get an even colour.

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