Vegan Sachertorte

A longer and more detailed description

I have yet to get “Cooking by the Book” from Lazy Town out of my head, so just be aware that this is not a recipe without risk. You may get cake-related songs stuck in your head, and they may not be good ones. You have been warned.

This recipe has several steps and components, and the complexity of those steps varies depending on how confident a baker you are, and what equipment your kitchen has. My kitchen only recently acquired a spatula, so I’ll be using the dead simple steps of a kitchen bereft of equipment, but if you have a fancier way of doing any of these steps, please feel free to do so. You are under no obligation to cook by the book, as this can be a messy recipe.

Sift your dry ingredients - except the baking soda - together. This is even more fun than usual, because cocoa powder is just fun to sift. I love watching the colours change as the cocoa powder gets all over everything. Is this why an inordinate number of the desserts I make involve cocoa powder? A lady never tells.

Once you’ve gotten tired of mixing your ingredients, make a little well in the centre. Separately, combine your baking soda and vinegar into a fizzy concoction, then add it to the well. Enjoy the fizz for a moment, then add your other liquids and mix to combine. Your batter should be moist, but not liquid, just this nice little gloppy bowl of fun.

Once the batter is sufficiently combined, pour it into your cake pan and pop it in the oven. Pro tip! Do not use a ludicrously large cake pan. Your cake will turn out crazy, and just look ridiculous, even if it tastes fine. I recommend finding a normal sized cake pan, and not using whatever absurd cake pan your partner managed to acquire when you left him alone for ten minutes.

Go do something else for 15-20 minutes. Personally, I cleaned up a bit, googled “how to get turmeric stains off a kitchen counter” (hint: it’s not looking great for my security deposit), and watched a pigeon do a pigeon dance on my balcony railing. It was fifteen minutes well spent.

After the pigeon gets boring, check if your cake is done by inserting a knife into its heart and seeing if any of its blood is attached when you withdraw the knife. If your knife comes out clean, you know your cake has ascended into a higher plane of being. Remove the cake from the oven like Jesus emerging from Hell, admiring how much it is risen. Set the cake aside - preferably on a cooling rack, if you’re fancy, but at least not in the same pan if you’re not - to cool, then prepare the jam.

Pour your jam into a microwave safe container, and pop it into the microwave for 15 seconds to help it loosen up. Do not then accidentally dump the jam into the kitchen sink, stare at what you’ve done, and consider the remaining jams in your fridge before recognising everything you’ve done has been a mistake. However, if you do do that, the remaining half jar of apricot jam that you had in there anyway, combined with the mysterious jar of Finnish cloudberry jam you don’t remember buying, but which accept as a form of miracle committed by this cake, will work as an adequate substitute for the jam now clogging your sink’s drain. Microwave that instead.

Cut the cake in half so you have a top and bottom layer and set your top layer aside. Try not to cut a hole in the cake while doing this, but if you do, it is far from the worst thing to go wrong so far, and you’ll be filling it in with more cake anyway. Spread the jam on the top of what is now the bottom layer, then replace the top layer, creating a sort of cake hat. Cover that with jam as well. Cover everything with jam, creating, if not a cake, at least a delicious mess. Set that aside again to firm, harden, and taunt you with the fact that you have a cake that you could eat, but not yet. Not yet.

While the cake is settling and mocking you, prepare your chocolate glaze. There are many ways to prepare chocolate glaze, and I’m sure some of them will yield a better glaze than what I made, but I am a simple creature with a microwave, so that is what I will use. Put your chunk-ed chocolate, sugar, and water in a microwave safe container and microwave it for thirty seconds. Give it a stir, and if it’s not fully melted, microwave it some more. Keep doing this until you have a thick - but not too thick - spreadable glaze.

Go back to that cake. Eye that cake. Hold your spoon ominously above that cake, for we are nearing its end.

Spread the chocolate glaze on the cake. You can do this by delicately scooping out the glaze a spoonful at a time, or you can just overturn the container on top of the cake and use a spoon to make sure everything spreads around. I’ll let you have a guess at which option I chose.

Once the glaze is spread across the cake, set it aside once again to harden. Once you are satisfied with the glaze, break out your cake knife, and enjoy your creation. Guten apetit!

Substitutions and suggestions

My usual disclaimer about sugar: As discussed in my previous recipe using sugar, I use cane sugar as my primary sugar. This type of sugar has larger crystals and a darker flavour than American white sugar. In this case, the regular white sugar is a much better option, as it will dissolve more easily and more fluidly into the batter and glaze.

For the chocolate: I tried to find an ethical chocolate brand that was also vegan, and it is exceedingly difficult to do. Tony’s was the closest I could get, and while it says it has not found evidence of slavery in its supply chain, it partners with manufacturers who do. The world of chocolate is complicated and ethically difficult to navigate, and I highly recommend you try to find an ethical brand and do your research on what you’re buying.

For the non-dairy milk: I used oat, but you can use whatever brings you joy, except coconut, because coconut milk brings no one joy.

For the jam: Sachertorte is traditionally made with apricot jam; however, as my misadventures demonstrate, there is plenty of space here for other jams. The cloudberry worked pretty well, but feel free to use whatever jam you want.

For melting chocolate: There are other, likely better, ways to melt chocolate than popping it in the microwave. Another option is to slowly melt the chocolate in a pan or double broiler. You could also consider using milk instead of water for your glaze, though I chose not to do this, as it was already extremely rich. Again, you are welcome to use whatever tools you have at your disposal.

What I changed to make it vegan

Whoo, boy, so this iteration is going to get me banned from Austria. When I looked up traditional Sachertorte recipes, they called for things like separating egg whites and yolks, and beating egg whites into peaks. I, obviously, wasn’t going to do any of that. Instead, I made a fairly normal chocolate cake, then shoved jam in it and chocolate on top. Is this accurate? Probably not. Is it still delicious and - in my opinion - a valid way to capture the essence of the cake? Most definitely.

bitte verbiete mich nicht liebe oesterreich ich liebe die bergen zu viel

A brief context for this dish

In winter 2023, I travelled with some friends to spend Christmas in Vienna. I wanted to experience the Christmas markets, enjoy some gluehwein, and just enjoy seeing one of the renowned cultural centres of Europe. Throughout that trip, I watched my friends enjoy pastry after pastry, try dish after dish, and enjoy their culinary experiences immensely. I, meanwhile, survived primarily on very large pretzels. To be clear, the pretzels were great, but some sense of jealousy did creep in. Me making this cake is my act of revenge on Austria for not having more vegan options. Schaut auf meine Werke, ihr Oesterreicher, und verzweifle.

Understanding why I felt such despair at not being able to truly experience Austrian cuisine requires understanding the role of pastries and cakes in Austrian cuisine, and the culinary history of one city in particular. Because, while Sachertorte is Austrian, it is also, more specifically Viennese.

Understanding the significance of Viennese cuisine requires understanding at least a little of the history of Vienna and Austria more generally. Vienna has been the Austrian capital for over a millennia; however, it reached its nadir with the Habsburgs and the Austro-Hungarian Empire. It is also because of this empire - and the Habsburgs specifically - that Vienna is as pastry-laden as it is.

The Habsburgs ruled Austria from 1452 to 1918, though their rule extended well beyond Austria. Throughout the 16th and 17th centuries, the Habsburgs ruled not only central Europe, but Spain and its holdings throughout the New World. The two branches of the family used this connection to forge a powerful alliance and flood Vienna with unprecedented wealth.

Amidst the wealth of Spanish colonies in the Americas came a deluge of new culinary delights. Europeans found themselves confronted with potatoes, corn, tomatoes, and squash. All would come to play starring roles in various national cuisines, but joining them was a sweet delight that became an integral part of Viennese baking.

Chocolate is a product of Mesoamerica, having been cultivated there since at least 1400BCE. The name itself is Mesoamerican, deriving from the Nahuatl word “xocoatl.” Within Mesoamerican cultures such as the Olmec and Aztecs, it was seen as a divine drink, and cocoa beans were used as currency. When the Spanish conquistadors conquered Tenochtitlan, cocoa beans were sent back alongside gold and silver as plunder from the New World. In Spain, cocoa was mixed with sugar cultivated from other Spanish colonies, creating a more modern and recognisable form of chocolate. The Industrial Revolution made mass production possible, and by the late 19th century, chocolate had exploded throughout Europe.

However, the story of chocolate isn’t the only story relevant to the Sachertorte. The Sachertorte came into being in the way that it did because of the particular context of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the general setting of Viennese konditoreis. Konditoreis are a style of bakery specifically dedicated to cakes and pastries, and Viennese konditoreis did so with aplumb. The wealth and power of the Habsburgs meant a huge variety of ingredients flowed into Vienna’s konditoreis, leading to the creation of a vast number of intricate cakes.

It’s the names of these cakes, however, that truly betray how they came into being. Names like Malenkofftorte, Esterhazytorte, and Dobostorte reflect members of Austro-Hungarian society, both high and low, and those that operated in the orbits of nobility. In addition to having the military might and wealth to bring ingredients into Vienna, the Habsburgs cultivated the arts, creating a society that not only had the means to create luxurious pastries, but the impetus to do so.

It’s in this context of wealth, nobility, and a flourishing of culinary arts that the Sachertorte was born. Invented in 1832 by Franz Sacher, the cake was supposedly created for Prince Metternich after the prince’s usual cake chef fell ill. However, much like with other recipes of noble origins we’ve discussed, the reality is likely a bit less fortuitous. Like with borani banjan, the Habsburg employed an army of chefs. The Sachertorte originated within that baking corps, though likely not in the wake of a specific chef’s illness.

What is undeniable, however, is the Sachertorte’s success. When Franz’s son, Eduard, opened Hotel Sacher in Vienna in 1876, the Sachertorte was on the menu. It has become one of the symbols of Austria, being used to settle diplomatic disputes, and selling hundreds of thousands of slices per year. In a city full of cakes and pastries, for this one to succeed is a testament to the power of chocolate.

Because, ultimately, that’s likely why the Sachertorte succeeded. It was born in an age of chocolate, in a context of luxury and opulence, and in a period where there was serious investment in pastries, konditoreis, and coffee houses. It’s simple to make, but somehow still gives the impression of richness within that simplicity. It is a masterpiece of Austrian baking, and in many ways, the perfect symbol of the city’s imperial past.

While it’s unlikely it was originally made for a prince in crisis, the reality remains that it succeeded because the Habsburgs did, and it continued past them because of its simplicity and deliciousness. It is a slice of imperial opulence accessible to all. Who wouldn’t want to be part of a golden, chocolatey dream?