New for 2017: Potica Babies! An Old Favorite with a New Name

Last week, I had a sweet dilemma. Two holiday potluck parties in the space of three days:A musical gathering at the home of a Cajun music friend, followed by a Christmas party at San Francisco's Slovenian Hall. I wanted to bring a dessert that would work for both events.

I ruled out potica for two reasons. For one thing, I was pressed for time. But I also knew that our treasured celebration dish is often overlooked in a holiday buffet line of non-Slovenians. Is it too rich? Too plain? Too hard to categorize? I don't know. But I hate to see a half-finished loaf of potica languishing on a platter at the end of the evening. 

So I decided to make a holiday sweet I had wanted to tackle for awhile: A yeast-raised version of the ever-popular pastry/cookie you can see in the photos at the top of this page. These delicate filled creations go by a variety of names. But they are everywhere during the winter holidays. I thought it would be a good compromise, since I could use a walnut filling that would capture the flavor of potica.   

What do you call these tasty morsels? The proper Slovenian name, rogljički ("little horns") is challenging to say and spell, so many of my vintage cookbooks use one of the more familiar labels: kifli, kolache, or nut horns. (The popular Jewish version is known as rugelach.) 

This pastry originated in Central and Eastern Europe, with an enriched yeast dough as the foundation. But the version known to most Americans--artfully shaped cookies, often buried in confectioners' sugar--has a definite New World lineage. The key ingredient is cream cheese, an American invention. The recipe was introduced in 1939, in an inspired piece of World's Fair marketing by the Philadelphia Brand Cream Cheese company. 

(Tablet Magazine, a Jewish publication, tells the whole fascinating story here.) 

The ubiquitous cream cheese pastry is dense and rich: one part butter, one part cream cheese, two parts flour, often with eggs. Little or no sugar--and no leavening. I have used this style of pastry in several recipes on this blog: American Slovenian Nut Horns, made with cottage cheese instead of cream cheese. Baked Flancati, in which sour cream is added. And I have been making Jewish rugelach for years. 

But I had never tried the original European yeast-raised version. 

When I turned to my vintage Slovenian American cookbook collection, there was no shortage of recipes. Each cookbook had at least one. They were virtually identical: Butter, sour cream, egg yolks, yeast, and flour, in the proportions you will find in the recipe below. There were slight differences in the method of preparation. I stuck closely to the "Kifli (with yeast)" recipe in my newest old cookbook: Pots and Pans, from the Slovenian Women's Union of America. I liked the simplicity of the dough preparation, which was similar to making pie crust.  

I prepared two fillings, walnut and jam. Although I consulted my cookbooks, I ended up improvising. I wanted the walnut filling to taste like my family's potica, so I added honey and cinnamon. 

Somewhere along the way, it hit me: I was making little poticas! The walnut filling was the same, except for the addition of egg white. The refrigerated sour cream dough was almost identical to my family potica recipe--except for the absence of sugar. 

And when I cut into one of these little horns, it even looked like a potica: 

Well, all right. Maybe it looked more like the end of a potica, where there is more dough than filling. But this was clearly a miniature yeast bread. Rich, but not as rich as the butter-cream cheese version. It had the special scent and tang of a yeast-raised pastry. And, unlike potica, it could be served straight from the oven.

And best of all: There were no leftovers!

At the Cajun music party, these little horns disappeared in a half hour. Luckily, my accordion friend Mark, who makes kifli himself, managed to snag one. He even gave me a thumbs up!

Two days later, when my husband and I arrived at the Slovenian Hall, I was greeted by an anxious question: Had I brought potica? No, I admitted, not this time. I figured someone else would. But no luck. Not one of us had come through.

That's when I decided these little horns deserved two names: The proper Slovenian one, and one more. After checking on the spelling with Mia, my Slovenian teacher, I wrote out the label:

Rogljički--or Potica Babies.

Toward the end of the evening, I noticed that just three of these sweet babies remained on the tray. I quickly wrapped them up and slipped them to my teacher.

This recipe is a work in progress. But I think it's a keeper.

Vesel Božič! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays to All!

Potica Babies: Rogljički ("little horns," yeast kifli)

4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 packages dry yeast
1 cup butter
1 cup sour cream
4 egg yolks

confectioners' sugar for rolling
fillings (see below)


For the dough: Combine flour, salt and yeast in large bowl. Cut in butter until mixture is crumbly. Mix sour cream and egg yolks. Make a well in center of the large bowl and add the sour cream-egg mixture. Combine into a soft dough. Turn out onto lightly floured surface and knead for several minutes, until dough is smooth. Divide into 6-8 balls. Flatten into discs, wrap in plastic or waxed paper, and refrigerate for 1-2 hours or more.

Alternatives: Some recipes recommend dissolving yeast in a few tablespoons of warm water or milk before proceeding as above. Others treat the butter differently: softening it first, or even melting it in warmed sour cream, before adding the yeast. With any of these methods, the dough will take longer to chill.

To shape: Roll out each portion of dough onto a surface that is dusted with confectioners' sugar. To make the familiar crescent shape, roll each portion into an 8-9 inch circle and cut into 8-12 wedges. Place a rounded teaspoon of filling on the wide edge (see photo above) and roll up. Place on a parchment-lined cookie sheet with the narrow pointed end underneath. Bake at 375 degrees for about 20 minutes. Let cool, then dust with confectioners' sugar.

Other possible shapes: Roll into a rectangle, cut into diamonds, and pinch two points together to encase the filling. Or roll up the rectangle into one or two long rolls and cut into shorter lengths.


Walnut Filling (makes 1+ cup, enough for half the dough)

1 cup walnuts, ground
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2-3 tablespoons honey, if desired
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 egg white, unbeaten


Jam Filling (makes about 1+ cup, enough for half the dough)

1 cup jam or preserves (I used blueberry)
ground walnuts (enough to thicken)
cinnamon to taste
1 egg white, unbeaten


Other Filling Options: Any favorite potica filling should work. My homemade poppy seed filling would be a good choice. Be aware that too much egg or liquid can cause the filling to run or expand, especially if you use the open-ended "horn" shape.

American Slovenian Nut Horns for Graduation Day; On To Slovenia!

This is the second installment of my cookie "show-and-tell" for my Slovenian language class in late May.

I was the only beginner when I joined the ongoing language class at San Francisco's Slovenian Hall in January. Five months later, I was still playing catch-up. I knew the end-of-term presentation would be a challenge, because some of it had to be done in Slovenian. I felt like a third grader as I tried to use simple, halting language to tell a complicated story: how my maternal heritage was almost erased and then recovered. A few ethnic cookies on the side might help.

The first cookie, buckwheat thumbprints, was something I had made once before. For my second offering, I decided to try something new: American Slovenian nut horns, a fitting choice, considering the source, a 1970s cookbook compiled by a Slovenian class in Willard, Wisconsin.

Kuharice iz Willarda (Cooking from Willard) offered two virtually identical recipes for American Slovenian nut horns. It was a familiar cookie/pastry hybrid, with a rich dough wrapped around a nut filling. I had seen similar recipes, sometimes referred to as "rogljički" in European sources. The American touch in this version seemed to be cottage cheese in the dough rather than cream cheese or sour cream.

The recipe reminded me of rugelach, a Jewish favorite I had made many times. In fact, I consulted some of those recipes, which offered more detailed suggestions for shaping.

The recipe below follows the original Willard version, with my modifications noted. Cinnamon in the filling is well within Slovenian tradition.  The chocolate chips?  Probably more at home in the American Jewish kitchen.

To find out how the recipe and the presentation turned out, read on!

American Slovenian Nut Horns (rogljički)

1 c. butter
1 c. small curd cottage cheese
2-1/2 c. flour
1 t. salt (I omitted)

1 c. ground walnuts
1 c. sugar
milk to moisten
cinnamon to taste, if desired (my addition)

(Another filling option: A sprinkle of chocolate chips!)


For filling: Grind nuts. (Use an old-fashioned hand grinder, if possible!) Mix with sugar, cinnamon if using, and enough milk to moisten. (I ended up with a thick paste.)

For pastry: Cream butter and cottage cheese. Add flour (mixed with salt if using) and combine with pasty cutter or cut in with knives. Knead lightly until smooth.

To shape: Divide dough in half. Roll each half into a circle and cut into 12 wedges.  Put 1 teaspoon of filling at end of each wedge and roll up. (Filling goes on wide end of wedge. Roll from wide end to the point!) Place on ungreased baking sheet and bake at 425 degrees for 15-20 minutes. Let cool. Makes 24 nut horns.

Another approach to filling and shaping, from a Jewish rugelach recipe: Divide dough into three portions and roll each into a circle.  Before cutting, spread or pat on the filling over the entire surface, except for a small circle in the middle.  (This uncovered circle in the middle will keep the filling from oozing out after shaping.) Cut each circle into 16 wedges. Roll up, shape and bake as above.  Makes 48 smaller nut horns.














The result?  Delicious!

I had my doubts about the cottage cheese, but the pastry turned out light and crisp. The simple walnut filling was wonderful, thanks to the old school hand grinder and the touch of cinnamon.  I might even try it with the family potica recipe. The chocolate chips were fine for variety's sake, but I preferred the original plain walnut filling.

My Jewish husband could see the resemblance to rugelach, but he thought these Slovenian nut horns  had a distinctive quality of their own.

Both cookies, the buckwheat thumbprints and the nut horns, were well-received in my Slovenian class. I did get some ribbing from a couple of the men, when our teacher Mia announced at the start of class that I had brought cookies to share, during the break later in the evening.

"Oh...cookies!  Well, now we already know we'll like your presentation!"

We all laughed.  I started to relax.

Time to begin.  The title slide flashed on the screen.

"My Slovenian Roots: Lost And Found."

Another slide.  My family tree.  I took a deep breath and said the words in Slovenian: Družinsko drevo.

And the next slide, with photos of poticas I had made over the years.

I read the caption in Slovenian.  Kako je moja dediščina preživela: POTICA!

How my heritage survived.  Potica.

It's the truth.  Potica was the one thread that linked the generations, past to present. Everything else, including the Slovenian language, was erased in my mother's family.

Lost and found again.

I will be taking a short break from this blog for a very good reason: I will be in Slovenia for most of the coming month.   Look for more recipes and stories in August.  

Nasvidenje!  See you soon!

Nut Crescent Cookies, A Childhood Memory Revisited

Nut crescent cookies, heavily coated with confectioners' sugar, were a Christmas mainstay during my childhood. My mother made them, but so did everyone else in Cleveland, so I assumed these rich, delicate treats must be an American standard.

I used to follow a tasting ritual. First, a bite of plain cookie, butter-rich but barely sweet and not at all appealing to my child's palate. Then, a bite of a sugar-dredged crescent, with the aching sweetness on the outside that turned the bland interior into something delectable.  The contrast, and that moment of transformation, always fascinated me.

Eventually, I discovered that this style of cookie or pastry is common to many cultures in Europe, Latin America, and the Middle East. The foundation is a mild shortbread dough, enriched by ground nuts and shaped into crescents or small balls.  In the United States, the cookies are often referred to as Viennese Walnut Crescents, which suggests Central European origins.

I discovered that my vintage Slovenian American cookbooks all had multiple recipes for these cookies, under a variety of names:  Crescents. Kipfel. Kiffel. Kipferlin. Piskoti. Contemporary Slovenian recipes generally use the name rogljički, which tranlates as croissants.

Now I was convinced:  I had discovered one more Slovenian dish my mother had made for us, without revealing its ethnic origins.

I found a likely-looking recipe from my favorite vintage source, The Progressive Slovene Women of America. The type of nut was not specified, although the name, orehovi piskoti, suggests walnuts as the preferred choice.  My mother used either walnuts or pecans. But I decided to use the freshly ground almond meal I already had in the fridge.

For the recipe and the results, read on.

Nut Crescents (Rogljički)

1 c. butter
6 T. sugar
1 t. vanilla or almond extract
2 c. flour
1 c. ground nuts (I used almond meal)
dash of salt (optional; I skipped it)


Cream buttter and sugar.  Add extract.  Mix in flour and then nuts.  Use spoon (or hands) to make a dense and somewhat crumbly dough.  Form into a smooth ball or, for ease of handling, shape into two long rolls.  Cover and chill dough for an hour. Form into walnut sized balls, then roll into 2-1/2 inch strips.  Shape strips into crescents.  Place on parchment-lined baking sheet.  Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes or until lightly browned.  Let cool on sheet before moving, because these cookies are very fragile. Sprinkle with confectioners sugar. Store carefully.

Makes 30-35.

When I removed the cookies from the baking sheet, they were delicate and fragile. I used a light hand with the sugar: a generous dusting rather than the heavy dredging my mother used to favor.  The snowy crescents looked beautiful.

I repeated the before-and-after tasting ritual from my childhood. No doubt about it:  Nut crescents are much tastier with a sugar coating, even to a more sophisticated adult palate. Although I am a fan of almonds, I suspect that walnuts or pecans might result in a slightly less dry and more flavorful cookie.  That will be my choice the next time I make this easy but sophisticated recipe.

When I gave my mother some of the cookies, I asked her where she had first learned to make them.  From my Slovenian America grandma, perhaps?

No, my mother said.  It was from a magazine she bought, a collection called One Hundred Cookie Recipes. She wasn't sure what had happened to it.

I had an immediate image of that well-used magazine. It must have dated from the early 1950s, since the pages were yellow and brittle when she had passed it along to me, probably thirty years ago. I had no idea what had become of it.

The origin of the cookies?  My mother thought they had become popular because of a recipe that was distributed by the makers of Crisco. I had a disconcerting memory:  the big blue can of pale hydrogenated vegetable fat that used to sit in our kitchen for months on end.  It was the "modern" shortening choice for cooks in the 1950s (and even later) because it didn't need refrigeration, thanks to all that chemical alternation.  These days, Crisco has fallen into disrepute.

So much for my visions of a treasured family recipe.  But I still like to believe these delicate cookies from my childhood carried the hidden flavor of our Slovenian roots.