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Real sweet violets painted with egg white and dusted in sugar, one petal at a time, until they become the fragile, sparkling confections that Demel has been selling from glass cases in Vienna for two hundred years.
The first time I saw kandierte Veilchen at Demel, I was eight years old. Gretel had taken me and my grandmother Eva on our usual spring trip to Vienna, and there they were behind the glass: tiny purple violets coated in crystallized sugar, arranged in neat rows inside a small white box lined with tissue paper. They looked like jewels somebody had forgotten were once flowers. Gretel bought a box without hesitating and told me these were the flowers Empress Sisi loved. I ate one standing on the pavement outside. It shattered against my tongue into sugar and perfume, something so distinctly floral that I can still taste it thirty years later.
Kandierte Veilchen are one of the secrets of Viennese confectionery that most people outside Austria never encounter. They're real flowers. Fresh sweet violets, picked in spring when they're at their most fragrant, painted petal by petal with a thin brush dipped in egg white, then dusted in fine sugar and left to dry for a full day until they turn translucent and brittle. The work is slow and quiet. One violet takes two or three minutes if you're careful, and you should be careful. This is not a recipe you squeeze in between other tasks. It's a Saturday afternoon in your kitchen with music playing, the kind of repetitive, gentle work that stills your mind and gives your hands something beautiful to do.
You use them to crown a Torte, to scatter across a bowl of Schlagobers, to tuck into a gift box for someone you care about. In my restaurant in Salzburg, I make a batch every April when the violets bloom along the south-facing wall of the garden. They keep for months in an airtight tin, so a single spring afternoon's work gives you something to reach for all year. Gretel always said the Viennese understood that the smallest things could carry the most meaning. A single crystallized violet on top of a slice of cake tells you that someone took real time over what they made for you.
Demel, Vienna's most celebrated Konditorei, has been producing kandierte Veilchen by hand since the mid-19th century, crystallizing each blossom individually in a process that hasn't changed in over 150 years. Empress Elisabeth of Austria was famously devoted to violets, consuming violet ice cream, wearing violet perfume, and carrying crystallized violets as a travelling sweet. The association became so strong that after her assassination in 1898, violets became a symbol of mourning throughout the empire, and Demel's candied violets took on a sentimental weight that they carry in Viennese memory to this day.
Quantity
40
stems attached
Quantity
1 large
Quantity
120g
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| fresh sweet violets (Viola odorata)stems attached | 40 |
| egg white | 1 large |
| superfine caster sugar (Feinkristallzucker) | 120g |
Pick your violets on a dry morning after the dew has lifted. You want fully open blossoms with strong color and no browning at the edges. Leave about two centimeters of stem attached to each one. The stem is your handle while you work, and you'll trim it off at the end. Inspect every flower for tiny insects. Lay the violets on a clean tea towel in a single layer. If they're damp from washing, let them dry completely before you start. Any moisture trapped under the sugar coating will cause the finished violets to turn dark and collapse in storage.
Crack the egg white into a small bowl. Beat it with a fork until it's just loosened and flows easily off the tines, about fifteen seconds of gentle stirring. You don't want froth. If you whip it into anything resembling foam, the air bubbles will leave tiny pockmarks in the sugar coating and your violets will look rough instead of smooth and glassy. Think of the egg white as a thin glue, not a meringue base.
Hold a violet by its stem with tweezers or your fingertips. Using a small, soft-bristled paintbrush, coat every surface of every petal with a thin, even layer of egg white. Turn the flower gently as you work. Get into the folds where petals overlap. Get the back. The egg white is what the sugar grips onto, so any bare spot will show up later as a dull patch where the sugar didn't stick. Work under good light. You'll be surprised how many tiny surfaces a single violet has.
Hold the painted violet over a shallow bowl and spoon superfine sugar over it, turning the flower slowly so every surface catches an even coating. The sugar should cling to the egg white immediately. Tap the stem gently to shake off any excess. You want a fine, even crystalline coat, not clumps. Set the sugared violet face up on a wire rack lined with parchment paper. Repeat with each flower. This is the meditative part. Forty violets will take you the better part of an hour, and that's fine. There is no way to rush this step without ruining the result.
Leave the sugared violets on the wire rack in a warm, dry room for at least 24 hours. Don't put them in the oven. Don't try to speed this up with a fan. The sugar needs to set slowly through natural evaporation. After 24 hours, touch one gently. It should feel dry, rigid, and very slightly translucent, like stained glass. If it still bends, give it another 12 hours. Once fully dry, trim off the stems with small scissors.
Layer the finished violets between sheets of parchment paper in an airtight tin or rigid container. Don't use a plastic bag. They'll crush. Store in a cool, dry place, not in the fridge. The moisture in a refrigerator will dissolve the sugar coating within days. Properly dried and stored, your kandierte Veilchen will keep for six months or more. Use them to decorate Torten, to set on top of a spoonful of Schlagobers, to scatter across a Sachertorte, or to place in a small box as a gift that tells someone you spent a quiet afternoon thinking about them.
1 serving (about 4g)
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