A picture from Fastelavn, an event best described as a Nordic Halloween (this one was hosted at the Danish Club of Ottawa).
By Mia Christensen
​Years ago, when my father immigrated to Canada from Denmark, he wanted to keep his heritage alive through his future family. As a result, we’ve been attending annual Danish events and Christmas bazaars (hosted by the Danish Club of Ottawa) since I was born. Kringle was my favorite part of these events; it provided a safe haven during the wildly overstimulating parties.
When the pandemic began, the events sadly stopped. I was once again desperate for the wonderful buttery pastry, so my mother taught me the kringle recipe that she had been given by her mother. It did not disappoint. The only rule was that my mother insisted that I couldn’t make any unless it was near Christmas and that it was a festive desert. (I personally do not see anything festive about almonds, so I attempted to make it on my own which was certainly a learning experience.)
At the time, I hated using the oven and our oven mitts were problematic (to say the least); I had burnt myself baking countless times -- so let's just say that taking the kringle out of the oven by myself required a few too many pep talks on my part.  I remembered that my mother measures the quantities of ingredients by the sound they make while coming out (so a tablespoon of olive oil is written as “one big glurp,” which is the sound our suspicious oil bottle makes).
After a few questionable attempts, I had successfully translated the majority of her fish noises into actual quantities and perfected my recipe, which then led to me filling up our small freezer with kringle to eat after the holidays. (Sorry, mom.) It's a simple and fun family recipe that I plan on passing down to my offspring, along with what my Danish grandparents refer to as “coffee and cake time,” which is a special break around 2-3pm reserved for drinking coffee and eating sweets or baked goods (like kringle).

How To:

Ingredients:

(Per kringle)
​- One sheet of puff pastry (I used a prepackaged version from FreshCo)
​- Sliced almonds
- About a golf ball of marzipan 
- One tbsp of butter
- White sugar (optional, to sprinkle on top)
- One egg yolk 
- ¼ cup of vanilla custard (I used Bird's Custard Powder and made it the night before)

Instructions:
​Preheat your oven to 375°F. Picture gallery at the end corrosponds to the step numbers.
1. Roll out the puff pastry. I used pre-packaged puff pastry, which already comes in sheet form, I just had to unroll it.
2. Roll out the marzipan, this may take awhile since it can be quite stiff and crumbly so I usually squish it around in my (clean hands first) in a very similar way to what you’d do with clay. After you can work with it, you’ll have to roll/squish it out to around the length of the puff pastry, you can adjust how much you use to how sweet you’d like it to be, marzipan is very sweet (try some, you can eat it right out of the package unless it says otherwise). Once it's rolled out, place it down the middle of the pastry.
3. Spread about a ¼ cup of custard in a thick line on top of the marzipan and sprinkle some of the slivered almonds on top.
4. Cut horizontal lines, starting from about one inch from the middle to the edge of the pastry, repeat every inch downwards (it’s a lot easier than it sounds). I usually use a pizza cutter (the circle ones) or a sharp smooth knife (to avoid rough edges, you want something that will glide through it). 
5. Fold the flaps over the filling from left to right to create something similar to a herringbone pattern.
6. Melt a tbsp of butter and mix it with a beaten up egg yolk in a bowl to lightly brush over the pastry (this is what makes it golden brown when baked), then sprinkle sugar and sliced almonds on top (optional).
7. Put it on a baking sheet (with parchment paper, because the custard oozes out 90% of the time) and cook for around 30 minutes, the top should be golden brown and it will probably be leaking custard.