A soft, yeasted cake, scented with lemon zest and almonds, baked in its fluted turban mold. Served sliced, dusted with sugar, beside steaming coffee cups.

Why this dish? Every Sunday, Fanny conducted the Sonntagsmusiken in the garden room of the Mendelssohn villa on Leipziger Straße. A select audience, musicians, coffee, and a large molded cake: the Gugelhupf, tall and fluted, was the centerpiece of these afternoons where she finally reigned as conductor.

Approach, I pray, and take a seat near the keyboard. On Sundays, when the garden room fills and my musicians tune their instruments, this cake sits on the table like a second voice. My cook beats it for long minutes, for the dough loves only patience; I have her grate the zest of a lemon, like a clear note in a deep chord. Believe me: a well-risen Gugelhupf and a well-led fugue demand the same thing — measure and breath.

How it was made : In the 19th century, there was neither baking powder nor stand mixer: the dough was raised with brewer's yeast and beaten by hand for a good quarter hour, work entrusted to the domestic staff in well-off homes. The tinned copper mold with a central chimney ensured even baking of this rich dough.

The contemporary twist : Serve it as a 'score': a thin line of candied zest laid on top like a staff, a wink to the composer.

Sources : Henriette Davidis, Praktisches Kochbuch für die gewöhnliche und feinere Küche, 1845 (reference for German bourgeois cuisine of the era)

Fanny Mendelssohn · Charactorium