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Created by Chef Elsa
A dark, earthy walnut cake from the Tyrolean Alps, built on buckwheat flour and mountain walnuts, spread with Marillenmarmelade and finished with a bittersweet chocolate glaze that cracks when you press a fork through it.
The first time I tasted a proper Nußtorte in Tyrol, I was maybe ten. We'd stopped at a Gasthaus somewhere between Innsbruck and the Brenner Pass, one of those places with a wood-paneled Stube and geraniums on every windowsill, and Gretel ordered a slice for the table. It was nothing like the Torten I knew from Eva's kitchen. Darker. Denser. The crumb had a colour like wet autumn earth and a grain to it that felt almost savoury against your teeth. That was the buckwheat. I didn't know it then. I know it now.
Tyrolean baking is mountain baking. Buckwheat grows where wheat won't, at altitude, in thin soil, through short summers. The Tyroleans didn't use it because it was fashionable. They used it because it was what the land gave them. Mixed with ground walnuts and bound with eggs, it produces a cake that has more in common with the forest floor than with a Viennese Konditorei display case, and I mean that as the highest compliment.
The technique is a classic Viennese separated-egg sponge, the same principle behind a hundred Austrian Torten. You beat the yolks with sugar until pale and thick, fold in the nuts and flour, then lift everything with stiff egg whites. But the buckwheat changes the rules. It has no gluten, so the cake won't rise the way a wheat sponge does. It stays low and close-crumbed, almost fudgy in the centre. You spread it with a thin layer of Marillenmarmelade, the apricot's sharpness cutting through the earthy richness, then pour a dark chocolate glaze over the top and let it set. The result is a Torte that belongs to the mountains. Honest, dense, and better than anything trying harder to impress you.
Buckwheat cultivation in the Austrian Alps dates to at least the 15th century, when it became a staple grain for Tyrolean and Carinthian farmers working land too high and steep for conventional wheat. The Tyrolean dialect word 'Hadn' for buckwheat gave its name to the Hadntorte, a close relative of this Nußtorte, and both cakes reflect a baking tradition that predates the refined flour and sugar economy of the Viennese Konditorei by centuries. These were harvest cakes, made when the walnuts came down from the trees in October and the buckwheat had been milled, and their dense, dark character is a direct consequence of mountain agriculture, not a stylistic choice.
Quantity
6 large
separated
Quantity
150g
Quantity
1 packet (8g)
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
1
zested
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
200g
finely ground
Quantity
80g
Quantity
30g
Quantity
4 tablespoons
warmed and sieved
Quantity
150g
Quantity
80g
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
8-10
for decoration
Quantity
for serving
softly whipped, unsweetened
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| eggsseparated | 6 large |
| caster sugar | 150g |
| Vanillezucker (vanilla sugar) | 1 packet (8g) |
| salt | pinch |
| lemonzested | 1 |
| dark rum | 1 tablespoon |
| walnutsfinely ground | 200g |
| buckwheat flour (Buchweizenmehl) | 80g |
| fine dry breadcrumbs | 30g |
| Marillenmarmelade (apricot jam)warmed and sieved | 4 tablespoons |
| dark chocolate (minimum 60% cocoa) | 150g |
| unsalted butter | 80g |
| honey | 1 tablespoon |
| walnut halvesfor decoration | 8-10 |
| Schlagobers (whipped cream)softly whipped, unsweetened | for serving |
Heat your oven to 170°C (340°F). Butter a 24cm springform tin and line the base with baking parchment. Dust the sides lightly with buckwheat flour, tapping out the excess. Buckwheat batter likes to stick, so don't skip this step.
Pulse the walnuts in a food processor until they're finely ground but still have a little texture. Stop before they turn into paste. You want something like coarse sand, not walnut butter. If you see oil pooling at the edges, you've gone too far. Toss the ground walnuts with the buckwheat flour and breadcrumbs in a bowl and set aside.
In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks with the sugar and Vanillezucker until thick, pale, and doubled in volume. This takes a good five minutes with an electric mixer. You're building the structure of the cake right here, so don't cut it short. When you lift the beaters, the mixture should fall in a thick ribbon that holds its shape for a few seconds before sinking back. Add the lemon zest and rum and beat briefly to combine.
Tip the walnut and buckwheat mixture into the yolk batter. Fold gently with a large spatula, working from the bottom up and turning the bowl as you go. The batter will feel heavy and dense. That's correct. Buckwheat has no gluten to trap air, so this cake relies entirely on the egg whites for lift. Don't rush this, but don't over-fold either. Twenty to twenty-five strokes should do it. A few streaks of flour are fine for now.
In a clean, dry bowl, beat the egg whites with a pinch of salt until they hold stiff, glossy peaks. If your bowl has any trace of fat or yolk in it, the whites won't whip. Start on medium speed until frothy, then increase to high. You're done when the peaks stand straight up and the surface looks like satin.
Stir one third of the egg whites into the batter to lighten it. Be bold with this first addition. It sacrifices some volume to loosen the heavy walnut mixture so you can fold in the rest without knocking all the air out. Now fold in the remaining whites in two additions, gently but with purpose. Use the same bottom-to-top motion, turning the bowl a quarter turn each time. Stop the moment you can't see white streaks. Every extra fold costs you rise.
Pour the batter into the prepared tin and smooth the top gently with your spatula. Don't press down. Place it in the centre of the oven and bake for 45 to 50 minutes. The cake is done when a skewer inserted in the centre comes out with just a few moist crumbs clinging to it. Not wet batter, not bone dry. The top will be dark brown, almost mahogany. That's the buckwheat. Don't panic. It's not burnt.
Let the cake cool in the tin for fifteen minutes, then release the springform ring and transfer to a wire rack. It will sink slightly in the centre as it cools. This is normal for a nut torte with no wheat flour holding it up. Let it cool completely before you touch it with jam or glaze. Patience. A warm cake will melt the chocolate and you'll have a puddle instead of a glaze.
Warm the apricot jam in a small saucepan until it loosens, then push it through a sieve to remove any lumps. Brush a thin, even layer over the top and sides of the cooled cake. This is called an Aprikotieren in the Konditorei tradition, and it does two things: it gives the chocolate something to grip, and it slips a layer of sharp, fruity brightness between the earthy cake and the dark glaze. Without it, the whole thing would taste one-dimensional.
Break the chocolate into small pieces and place it in a heatproof bowl with the butter and honey. Set the bowl over a pot of barely simmering water, making sure the base doesn't touch the water. Stir gently until everything melts into a smooth, glossy mixture. Take it off the heat and let it cool for five minutes. You want it thick enough to coat the back of a spoon but still pourable. If it's too hot it will run right off the cake. If it's too cool it will set in lumps before you can spread it.
Set the cake on a wire rack over a baking tray to catch the drips. Pour the chocolate glaze over the centre of the cake in one steady motion and let gravity pull it down the sides. Use an offset spatula to guide it gently if needed, but work fast and touch it as little as possible. Every pass of the spatula dulls the finish. You want this glaze smooth and mirror-dark. Press walnut halves around the top edge while the glaze is still tacky, spacing them evenly. Let the whole thing set at room temperature for at least thirty minutes.
Slice with a sharp knife dipped in hot water and wiped clean between cuts. The crumb will be dark, dense, and slightly fudgy in the centre. Serve each slice with a generous spoonful of softly whipped Schlagobers on the side, never on top. The cream is there to lighten each bite, not to hide the cake. Mahlzeit!
1 serving (about 130g)
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