Sweet side of marzipan town: A taste of Germany’s “delicious Willy Wonka-esque” place that turned an almond treat into an art form

Lübeck is famous for several things: its seven towers and its former status as the capital of the Hanseatic League. And then there is marzipan. More precisely, Lübeck marzipan, which, like champagne and Gouda, is on the EU list of foods with a protected geographical indication.

The jury is out on the origin; Some believe it dates back to the 14th century when crop failures prompted bakers to use almonds to bake a bread known as Marci Panis (Saint Mark’s Bread). Others point out that the almond sweets that once came here on the merchants’ sailing ships from Asia were decorated with the image of a ruler. And in Arabic “Mauthaban” means “sitting king”.

Almonds, most of which came from the Far East, were in any case never rare in Lübeck, a UNESCO World Heritage city full of former half-timbered houses. Even the poor lived well here, believing that philanthropy would ease the way to heaven for wealthy merchants.

One of the marzipan statues in Niederegger’s flagship store (a sugary tribute to the world’s oldest marzipan brand) aptly depicts Lübeck’s Holstentor, a 14th-century Gothic tower. Today it houses a museum dedicated to the history of the Hanseatic City of Lübeck and contains collection boxes once found outside the city’s many guilds.

The Niederegger marzipan brand was founded in 1806 by confectioner Johann Georg Niederegger and is still in the hands of his descendants today. Simnel cakes seem quite simple after a visit to the shop opposite the 13th-century Lübeck Rathaus, the Gothic town hall where the Hanseatic League once met.

The Niederegger flagship store is located in a building that houses Café Niederegger and the Marzipan Museum. In the boutique on the ground floor, supermarket-style shelves are full of marzipan oranges, apples and onions. Marzipan dinosaurs line up alongside fleets of marzipan sports cars and packets of marzipan tea. Seasonal sculptures are Niederegger’s specialty (at the time of my visit, the centerpiece was an oversized Army Easter Bunny), although the most elaborate sculpture is a bust of Johann Georg Niederegger.

It’s all wonderfully Willy Wonka-esque. Over a slice of the cafe’s legendary marzipan cake, Kathrin Gaebel von Niederegger reveals that previous marzipan sculptures were Big Ben, a replica of Cologne Cathedral, and marzipan sushi sculptures for a music festival. Kathrin explains that the main ingredients in marzipan are sugar and almonds, with rose water for floral notes. The almonds are supposed to add flavor, but because of their high price, many brands are heavy on the sugar.

The Niederegger flagship store with the Café Niederegger and the marzipan museum

One of the marzipan sculptures (left) displayed in the flagship store of the Niederegger marzipan brand shows the Lübeck Holsten Gate (right), a 14th-century Gothic tower

“Almonds are expensive, that’s why there is much more sugar in cheap marzipan,” says Kathrin. “The EU guidelines state that Lübeck marzipan must have a fixed ratio of almonds to sugar, and ours clearly owes its taste to the almonds.”

Kathrin adds that she often meets visitors who say they don’t like the cloying sweetness of marzipan, but change their minds once they’ve tried marzipan from EU-certified producers, all of which must be in Lübeck.

That said, I’m still skeptical about some fragrances (300+) from Niederegger. “We create a special flavor every year,” says Kathrin. “We made a cola and whiskey version, and we also tried chocolate marzipan, but it didn’t work. We recently made a delicious salted cashew marzipan and this year we made a caramel version which was delicious.”

Delights in the Niederegger shop. Tamara writes of the shop: “There are rows of marzipan dinosaurs next to fleets of marzipan sports cars and packets of marzipan tea… all deliciously Willy Wonka-esque.”

She adds that the Niederegger factory, just outside Lübeck, produces 30 tons of marzipan a day and ships products worldwide. The biggest markets are Great Britain, Australia and China.

A walk through the Niederegger Marzipan Museum, one floor up from the café, gives a fantastic insight not only into marzipan, but also into the history of Lübeck. The night before, I dined at the nearby Schiffergesellschaft, a 16th-century beer hall and restaurant that was once a seamen’s guild house.

During a storm, sailors squat here to pass the time with wooden models of ships, many of which now hang from the ceiling of the beer hall. They bear a striking resemblance to the model ship that occupies a prominent place in the Niederegger Museum, with one major difference: this model is (down to the sails and portholes) made of marzipan.

My favorite sculpture in the museum bears an uncanny resemblance to Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper – a series of life-size busts depicting figures who played a role in both Lübeck and Marzipan’s past, including a nun (marzipan was one of the few foods she could eat), eating while fasting), an apothecary (the influential Persian physician Rhazes boasted in the 8th

Visitors can sign up for Niederegger’s marzipan tasting masterclasses, which include tasting six marzipans and six wines. These include Lübecker Rotspon, another specialty of Lübeck – a wine imported from Bordeaux and aged in Lübeck (the tradition dates back to the 14th century when bottles were loaded onto ships bound for Lübeck).

There are also marzipan masterclasses where visitors use a 3D printer to create custom creations. Whether Johann Georg Niederegger would agree remains to be seen, although I suspect so.

However, my personal line in the sand is the marzipan paste I see in a nearby souvenir shop.

But cola and whiskey marzipan? Sign me up.