Apricot Dumplings: Mahler’s Melodious “Marillenknödel” — A Dive into the Jewish Heritage of the Beloved Delicacy: VEGAN Potato-Dough (Recipe) #מרילן קניידל# אַפּריקאָס #WFPB SOS-free

Apricot Dumplings: A Culinary Love Letter from Vienna

As a proud Jewish Viennese food blogger, I find immense joy in delving into the rich culinary tapestry woven by the ancestors of my people. Among the many delights that grace Vienna’s tables, one dish has captured my attention of late, and it feels like a culinary love letter: the beloved Marillenknödel, or apricot dumplings. These sweet orbs have been a staple of Viennese cuisine for centuries, with their roots firmly planted in the vibrant Bohemian community that once thrived in the city.

The history of Marillenknödel is as rich as the dumplings themselves. Originating in Bohemia, they came to Vienna via an influx of cooks during the 18th and 19th centuries, who brought with them cherished recipes and culinary traditions. This was a time of transformation, as sugar, once a luxury, became more accessible, allowing desserts like Marillenknödel to flourish. Food historian Sylvia Sedlnitzky notes that by the mid-19th century, these dumplings had cemented their status as a classic in Viennese gastronomy.

Among the culinary luminaries who adored Marillenknödel was Gustav Mahler, a composer whose complex and emotionally resonant symphonies have left an indelible mark on classical music. Yet Mahler’s passions extended beyond his musical genius; he had an insatiable appetite for hearty meals and exotic ingredients. His biographer, Henry-Louis de La Grange, recounts Mahler’s fondness for game and bold flavors, but it was the tender sweetness of Marillenknödel that held a special place in his heart. According to family lore, Mahler would often request these dumplings from his sister, Justine, whenever he visited her, and they graced the menus of his rehearsal dinners and post-concert gatherings.¹

For Mahler, food transcended mere sustenance; it was a source of pleasure and a vital part of his creative process. He once famously remarked to a friend, “I cannot compose without a good dinner.” In a curious twist, Mahler also dabbled in vegetarianism, a choice that may have been influenced by Richard Wagner, a notorious vegetarian and antisemite of the time. In a letter from 1880, he wrote of the profound moral effect of his dietary shift, declaring, “I expect nothing less than the regeneration of mankind.” Though he eventually abandoned vegetarianism, he remained mindful of his diet, and Marillenknödel, with their delicate balance of flavors, always fit the bill.

The apricot dumpling’s legacy didn’t end with Mahler; it extended into the imperial kitchens of Austria. Emperor Ferdinand I, affectionately nicknamed “The Benign” for his good-natured demeanor, is said to have had a particular fondness for Marillenknödel. Legend has it that he once declared, “I am the Emperor, and I want dumplings!” when informed that they were out of season. The year was 1848, and with the winds of revolution stirring, his reign was soon to end. Yet his culinary cravings remained timeless, a reminder of the simple pleasures that transcend political upheaval.

Today, the art of preparing Marillenknödel has evolved, thanks in part to the advent of refrigeration. We can freeze uncooked dumplings, cooking them straight from the freezer when the apricot harvest is but a distant memory. However, in Mahler’s time, chefs turned to dried apricots or preserves to satisfy cravings during the off-season. Traditionalists may balk at such substitutions, but in moments of desperation, even emperors must compromise.

The versatility of Marillenknödel lies in the dough itself. Some opt for the hearty potato-based version, which offers a denser texture and earthy flavor. Others prefer a lighter, fluffier dough made with Topfen, a local farmer’s cheese that lends a tangy creaminess to the dish.

And if you ask many Jewish Viennese grandmothers, they’ll often tell you there’s an unspoken rule: apricots (Marillen) pair perfectly with potato dough, while plums (Zwetschken, as we call them here in Vienna) are traditionally reserved for Topfen dough.

However, when serving dumplings alongside a meat-based meal, potato dough becomes the universal choice across Jewish culinary tradition, as it is naturally pareve and adheres to the dietary laws that govern the Jewish table. This makes potato-dough dumplings a versatile and cherished accompaniment for fleishig (meat) dishes, regardless of the fruit filling.

In a curious critique published in an Austrian newspaper, a recent article unwittingly exposed an aspect of Austrian culinary identity.² By dismissing the preferences for potato-dough dumplings, it overlooked their significance, particularly for the Jewish community that once thrived in Vienna. These remarks about the superiority of other styles echoed a broader cultural amnesia regarding the rich Jewish heritage that shaped the culinary landscape of this city. As an Austro-Hungarian with roots in this tradition, I can attest to the enduring legacy of these potato-dough delights, which have graced tables for generations.

The delicate interplay of tradition and flavor in crafting the perfect Marillenknödel is no small feat. The ideal blend includes apricots, almonds, and vanilla, with potato dough serving as the Jewish nod to dietary customs. The finest apricots hail from the esteemed Wachau region, where their sweetness shines through. Toasted breadcrumbs mixed with ground almonds provide a satisfying crunch that contrasts beautifully with the soft dumpling, while a hint of vanilla can elevate the dish to new heights.

In the kitchen of Gustav Mahler’s sister, Justine, these apricot dumplings reached legendary status. Mahler, ever the passionate gourmand, once reacted with disbelief upon discovering that a friend had no affection for Marillenknödel. “What!” he exclaimed, “Is there a Viennese to whom Marillenknödel means nothing?” His insistence that they experience the dish for themselves speaks to the dumplings’ power to unite, to evoke nostalgia, and to bridge culinary divides.

Ultimately, Marillenknödel are more than mere dumplings; they are a symbol of Vienna’s cultural heritage, a delicious intersection of Jewish, Bohemian, and imperial traditions. Each bite encapsulates a history steeped in love, longing, and the pursuit of culinary excellence. As I savor these sweet orbs of joy, I am reminded of the bonds forged through food, the stories shared around the table, and the enduring legacy of those who came before us, their recipes echoing through the generations, inviting us to partake in a shared cultural feast.

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As shocking as it may sound for a Jewish food blogger, due to health and ethical reasons (see my earlier post), I am now committed to a whole-food, plant-based (WFPB) and almost SOS-free lifestyle—meaning no added sugar, salt (except for miso, which has proven not to raise blood pressure and stomach cancer risk), or oil (except for natural oils in nuts, and also, importantly, high-polyphenol extra-virgin olive oil added raw, not for cooking). This shift supports both my health and my weight management. By focusing on whole, unprocessed foods, I can prioritize nutrient density, which has led to significant improvements in my overall well-being. Avoiding added sugars and salts reduces the risk of chronic diseases and keeps my energy steady, while skipping added oils helps me manage my weight more effectively. Fruits and other naturally sweet ingredients are welcome, allowing me to enjoy vibrant flavors while staying aligned with my health goals.

With that in mind, here’s a recipe that aligns with these principles, where deliciousness is absolutely uncompromising, balanced perfectly with wholesome ingredients:

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1. Musicologist Ira Braus found her original recipe. It is referenced in this article: Georg Predota, Mahler’s dumplings (Interlude; August 11th, 2013; link: https://interlude.hk/mahlers-dumplings/ )
2. Tobias Müller, Die Suche nach dem perfekten Marillenknödel (Der Standard, July 9, 2023, link:  https://www.derstandard.at/story/3000000177821/die-suche-nach-dem-perfekten-marillenknoedel )
3. Starch Amount: The 70g of starch is a good starting point for 500g of potatoes. However, the exact starchiness and water content of different potato varieties can vary. If your potatoes are particularly wet, you might need a tiny bit more starch to get a workable, non-sticky dough. Start with the 70g, and if it’s too sticky after initial kneading, add small increments (e.g., 5g at a time) until it’s manageable.
4. Important Note on Potato Temperature: For the best dough, it is ideal to process the potatoes and mix in the starch while the potatoes are still warm from cooking. Cold potatoes tend to be more crumbly and harder to bind with starch. Some bakers briefly warm chilled riced/grated potatoes in a microwave (without adding moisture) before adding starch to help with binding, though this can be tricky to control.