lebkuchen. (2024)

*note: this entry updated in Dec 2012.

In Munich a few weeks back, our (American) friend and Clara’s (German) uncle got into a to-us-ridiculous debate about whether gingerbread was lebkuchen. Elizabeth maintained it was; Eckhart was adamant it wasn’t. We were at the holiday market in Marienplatz, poking through cookie cutters, and had come across some tiny gingerbread men (we bought ourselves a wooden owl to make springerle!) Hence the discussion. (We don’t regularly argue about the finer points of American and German baking, though perhaps we should start.)

From Elizabeth’s description, we were sure she was right, until we tried some at the holiday market in Nuremberg, the supposed lebkuchen birthplace.

Eckhart was right.

Lebkuchen is not gingerbread. It’s better than gingerbread. Chewy and dense, with hints of anise and candied orange, often coated in dark chocolate, lebkuchen is like gingerbread’s adult cousin. It’s made from admittedly more sophisticated ingredients, and the result is a far superior cookie. It’s really not gingerbread at all. (So if you’re thinking this recipe will simply be an excellent gingerbread cookie, you’ll be disappointed.)

The most obvious difference between the two cookies is that lebkuchen is made from nut flours, not wheat flour, and uses brown sugar in place of molasses. It’s inadvertently gluten-free, which is, actually, quite helpful come holiday season. So, one point for lebkuchen!

Lebkuchen is so prevalent in Germany around December that you can pick up some specially packaged lebkuchen spice at any old grocery store for the occasion:

It contains cinnamon, orange peel, coriander, lemon peel, star anise, fennel, nutmeg flowers, cloves, and cardamon. With a little work, it can be recreated. Or tweaked. The anise and fennel are dominant flavors in this mix, which we love, though we’d also prefer a touch more cinnamon (perhaps our gingerbread memory is stronger than we thought?) and will add some extra next time.

Another easy-to-find in Germany ’round Christmas time, also for makinglebkuchen, isback-oblaten,or baking wafers, which typically line the bottom oflebkuchen. They’re helpful in keeping the sticky cookie from sticking while baking, and a fun bit of texture to the cookie itself. Still, though traditional, they are by no means required. (In New York, you can find back-oblaten at some specialty baking shops, or at German spots like Stammtisch.)

We were lucky to be cooking in a well-equipped kitchen over the holidays, stocked with beautifully ground almond flour. For the hazelnuts, we put in some time cracking and peeling (which made us realize we don’t actually have a nutcracker in Brooklyn!) and ground the hazelnuts ourselves in a food processor. The result was not quite as fine as the almond flour, but the cookie’s texture is quite forgiving. (However, do try to grind your nuts as close to flour as possible, as that is their function in this recipe. Too coarse, and the dough will be thin and gloppy.)

As for the candied fruit, we had some homemade candied orange peel on hand, but otherwise the candied peel that stores stock in December for the likes of fruit cake (which is delicious, despite its reputation) will do just fine.

The recipe here calls for cookies that are at least 2 cm tall. We assumed this meant they would spread considerably when baked, but they didn’t. If you prefer your cookies smooth and perfectly round rather than craggy and misshapen, wet your fingers with some water and pat the cookies into perfect shape before you leave them to rest. If you’re using oblaten, push the dough to the edges of the wafer – the edges can be thinly covered, but do make sure to get the edge.