This is a lengthy post—click here to skip directly to the recipe.

I met Lauren in 2001, when we both were students at a Canadian school in Neuchâtel. We lived a year in the city, doing Canadian high school curriculum, learning French, and eating (and eating and eating).

Here are some pictures from when we went back to visit in 2011:

However, in all that time (and despite the fact that we were around during Expo 2002) we never made it to Murten.

We knew that Murten was nearby, that it had a cute name (and this box), but somehow we never ventured over the lake.

In 2011, when I had decided to stay in Switzerland indefinitely (and had just met Sam) Lauren visited me in Bern and we finally made it to Murten.

Before we left on our excursion, Sam sent me a link to a bakery, Aebersold.

“It’s right on the main street, you can’t miss it.”

“What’s the cake called again?”

“Nidelkuchen.”

“Do you remember what it’s called?” I asked Lauren as we arrived at the bakery.

“Um, Murten cake?”

Luckily, Nidelkuchen was the obvious specialty. The pieces looked huge, so we got one piece to share and one piece to bring home to Sam.

“Oh my god,” said Lauren, her mouth stuffed with bready cream goodness, “why did we never come here before?!”

I couldn’t speak for the tears of joy running down my face.

We waited for the train back to Bern quietly.

The box for Sam sat between us on the bench at the station.

“He won’t miss a tiny bit?” I said, glancing at Lauren

“The pieces are so big…”

I took out my mini Swiss Army Knife and sliced off a sliver.

“Oh, but that’s not straight,” said Lauren, and I sliced again.

Sam had a big grin on his face when he saw the box.

“It’s the best cake, isn’t it? Isn’t Murten pretty? Isn’t that cake good? You guys are so nice!”

Lauren and I exchanged sidelong looks.

He opened the box.

“Didn’t the pieces used to be…bigger?”

Sweet, innocent Sam, before and after the deception:

Sam has never let Lauren and I forget this cake-related betrayal, but now after nearly ten years, I have finally perfected my Nidelkuchen recipe and can make him his very own cake that he doesn’t have to share with anyone (except our toddler).

The cake from Aebersold is a direct descendant of the Gâteau du Vully (my post on a savoury version here), and according to the Kulinarische Erbe, Ernst Aebersold, founder of the bakery, wanted a slightly lighter and creamier cake. Seven layers of slightly soured cream later, his Murtener Nidelkuchen was born.

I still love Murten Cake from Aebersold, and you can have a peek into their bakery in this video from the excellent SRF series Myriam und die Meisterbäcker (although my lovely sister-in-law recently brought us a very nice version from Confiserie Züger, which she prefers).

The history of the Gâteau du Vully itself also a fascinating one. Recipes for the cake have been passed down through the generations, and it was often a community baking project. To this day, local organizations still fire up the communal ovens and start baking Gâteau du Vully in the wee hours, selling out early in the morning.

Here is a list of the towns that are offering it this season.

Many of my favourite Swiss food bloggers have versions of Nidelkuchen, including—Kitchwitch (who makes hers on the grill), and Einfach Essen (who also has a rhubarb version).

The recipe which most resembled the Aebersold variety was this Murtener Nidelkuchen, from food bloggers Ursi and René from their CBB-Küche.

And now for the recipe!

For the base:

300 g flour

5 g salt

200 ml milk, room temperature

15 g fresh yeast (6 g dried)

40 g butter, soft

For the baked topping:

100 g crème fraîche

50 g whipping cream

60 g sugar

For the final topping:

80 ml whipping cream

30 g sugar

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour and salt.

In another bowl, whisk together the milk and yeast.

Make a well in the flour and add the liquid ingredients. Stir this together until a dough starts to form, then add the butter and begin to knead it on the table. Knead for about 10-15 minutes, or until it is smooth and elastic. Alternatively, mix for about 10 minutes in a stand mixer with a dough hook. Cover and let rise for about an hour or until the dough has doubled in size.

Line a 26 cm (10 inch) springform pan with parchment paper and grease the sides.

Roll out the dough into a circle, and place into the pan, gently stretching it to the edge.

Let rest for about 30 minutes.

Preheat your oven to 190° C / 375° F / gas mark 5.

In a large measuring cup, whisk together the crème fraîche, cream, and sugar.

Press the dough so it has a very slight raised edge, then top with one third of the cream mixture.

Bake for ten minutes.

Remove the cake from the oven and spread over another third of the cream mixture.

Bake for ten minutes.

Spread over the rest of the cream mixture.

Bake for ten minutes.

Meanwhile, whisk together the whipping cream and sugar.

As soon as the cake comes out of the oven, carefully pour over about half of the cream mixture, spreading it to the sides (this part is a bit tricky, as you don’t want to disturb the top of the cake. I thought it was helpful to lift and tilt the pan and let the cream run to the edges.)

Let this sit and absorb for about 5 minutes, then add the last layer of cream on top.

Remove the sides of the springform and let the cake cool fully.