Way back in the Middle Ages, long before they even had radio, the prosperous northern German city of Lübeck was calling all the shots in the Hanseatic League. No, not like in the National League. Like in the Hanseatic League, okay? It was an alliance of trading cities which pretty much managed to maintain a trade monopoly over most of northern Europe and the Baltic Sea for hundreds of years.
Before the establishment of the Hanse (the guild), this region of the world was open to chaotic raiding and plundering and lawlessness (kind of like parts of Los Angeles today only with more trees). After the establishment of the Hanse, this raiding and plundering got a lot more organized and everyone here managed a rather elegant transition and moved right on into all-out warfare. This also went on for hundreds of years.
But that was then and this is now. I want to move on to the part about the marzipan pigs if you don’t mind.
Marzipan did not originate in Lübeck – duh, there are no almond trees up here. But there is an abundance of legends claiming this to be so and should you ever come to town and hear one of these ridiculous tall tales just nod your head politely and nobody gets hurt, alright?
Marci panis or Marcus bread most likely originated in Venice. It soon made its way up here not long afterwards, however, and whether it originated here or not is of little or no consequence, really. All that you need to remember is that the experts in Lübeck really know how to make this stuff.
The fist mention of marzipan here was back in 1598. Almonds, the basic raw material for marzipan, are even thought to have been imported to Lübeck as early as the 13th century. So either way they have obviously had a lot of time to practice.
As a scarce sweet food back then, marzipan was at first regarded as having medicinal properties. Apothecaries had the exclusive responsibility of producing this specialty – in small amounts, of course. Marzipan for the masses didn’t really become affordable until the end of the 18th century and later, with the coming of the Industrial Revolution, the production of marzipan was also industrialized. But up until this very day, Lübeck marzipan has remained a premium product, its time-honored recipes are still jealously guarded by the pros.
But what distinguishes Lübeck marzipan from all the others, you ask? Well, German legislation, for one thing. The Germans just can’t help it. They have to legislate and regulate everything. They regulated their marzipan production, too – but here “they done good”. In Germany, marzipan products are permitted to carry this designation only if they have a ratio of at least 50 parts marzipan paste to 50 parts sugar.
Sound good? It is. In the meantime there is even an official European Union designation for this to guarantee quality. But that wasn’t enough for these picky Lübeckers. Up here they like to take it a bit further and also distinguish between
Lübeck marzipan, with a ratio of at least 70 parts marzipan paste and 30 parts sugar and
Lübeck fine marzipan, with a ratio of 90 parts marzipan paste and 10 parts sugar.
In case you were wondering, the Lübeck fine marzipan tastes the best. And where can you try this stuff out? Here are two of the most famous establishments:
Carstens Lübecker Marzipan, founded in 1845, quickly became one of the most successful companies in the Lübeck marzipan business and produces massive, high-quality amounts of this wonderful delicacy. It was even granted the title of official supplier to the imperial court of Emperor Wilhelm I way back when (also before radio). It offers over 150 individual products and distributes them world-wide. They pride themselves in primarily producing products with the 90/10 quality designation.
Then there’s Niederegger Lübeck Marzipan. The House of Niederegger and the Niederegger Café have been in action here for about 200 hundred years and are, well, Lübeck and German institutions. If you visit the café in Old Town Lübeck, and you will (it’s very near city hall and St. Mary’s and St. Peter’s), don’t be frightened if you suddenly get the somewhat eerie feeling of having died and gone to marzipan heaven. You haven’t. And just to reassure yourself of this, sit down and order a few of their best-known specialties (here’s where the marzipan pig comes in). They offer over 300 types of confectionary here and upstairs, in the “Marzipan-Salon”, they even have a marzipan museum.
And if neither of these two places can satisfy you, if you don’t walk out of here lamenting all the time you had wasted during your previous, pitiful existence (having lived without trying Lübeck marzipan), then I take that back about marzipan heaven up there. You really are dead.
