Bethmännchen

Bethmännchen belong to Frankfurt and to Advent, the season when the German sweet table fills its tins with Plätzchen, Christmas cookies, and almond things that keep. This is Hesse, not Bavaria. Das ist kein Bierzelt. In the north, marzipan leans toward Lübeck blocks and potatoes dusted with cocoa; in Saxony and Swabia the tin may argue for Stollen, Springerle, or Zimtsterne. Frankfurt sets down these little marzipan balls with three almond halves like a signature.

I make them from good marzipan, ground almonds, icing sugar, egg white, and rosewater. Nicht aus dem Glas, and not a cheap almond-flavoured paste that tastes of perfume and regret. The larder logic is simple: almonds, sugar, and a little rosewater keep well, so Advent baking could start before the house was full and still taste fresh when the tin opened.

The technique is the almond halves. Press them deep enough that they bite into the marzipan, then chill the shaped balls before the yolk goes on. Warm marzipan slumps in the oven and throws the almonds off; cold marzipan holds the shape while the outside sets. Brush with egg yolk thinned with milk, not a wet wash, because you want a lacquered pale-gold skin, not scrambled yellow patches.

Bake them gently and pull them while they're still soft at the centre. They firm as they cool. Overbake a Bethmännchen and you've made an expensive almond pebble. Erst verstehen, dann kochen.