Layers of buttery cardamom shortbread, spiced prune filling, dark rum, and a hint of vanilla make Icelandic Vínarterta a cozy heritage dessert.
So, this isn’t your average “mix-and-bake” kind of cake. It’s not even the kind of thing you decide to make on a whim — unless you’re the sort of person who spontaneously organizes their spice drawer and makes laminated dough for fun. (In which case, can we be friends?)
Icelandic Vínarterta is a commitment. It’s also the kind of recipe that makes your kitchen smell like something your grandma would approve of — warm, sweet, just a little spicy. And in my case, it literally comes from a grandma. My great-aunt Guðrún, actually. Who, yes, wore aprons that had been ironed, and no, I’m not kidding.
Every December, she’d make this seven-layer cake with surgical precision. Prunes, cardamom, and patience — those were her ingredients. That and muttering something under her breath in Icelandic that I never understood but always assumed translated roughly to “why are you still standing here when you could be helping?”
If you’re not familiar, Icelandic Vínarterta is a traditional cake with layers of subtly spiced shortbread and a rich, boozy prune filling that somehow tastes like every winter holiday you’ve ever survived — and maybe a few you haven’t. It’s dense, unapologetic, and the flavors mellow together like introverts at a cabin retreat. Quiet. Thoughtful. Eventually… kind of magical.
And while it might not win awards for flashiness — let’s be honest, it looks a bit like dessert lasagna — it makes up for it by being the kind of treat that sticks in your memory. Like, I still think about the last bite I had of it last year. Which feels weird to say about prunes, but here we are.
Why You’ll Love This Icelandic Vínarterta Recipe?
Alright, I know what you’re thinking: seven layers? prunes?? is this a trick? But hear me out. This isn’t just some relic dessert for people who still mail checks.
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The flavor gets better over time. No joke. You wrap it up and let it sit for a few days — and somehow, everything softens and deepens. It’s like it ages like wine, but way more snackable.
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It’s not too sweet. Which is a blessing if you’re like me and feel attacked by most modern cakes.
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It tells a story. Whether or not you’ve got Icelandic blood in your veins, there’s something really comforting about food that comes from a long line of “this is how we’ve always done it.”
And if you do have Icelandic roots? You might be legally obligated to make this at Christmas. I’m only half-joking.
Ingredient Notes:
There are two parts: the filling and the dough. Nothing fancy. Everything’s doing its job.
The filling:
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Prunes – Don’t roll your eyes. When simmered with rum and cardamom, they taste like the inside of a very good hug.
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Water – Just enough to soften everything. Very exciting, I know.
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Dark spiced rum – Optional, but highly recommended. Adds depth and a little grown-up energy.
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Cardamom – Floral, spicy, nostalgic. Basically, it’s Christmas in a jar.
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Vanilla – For roundness.
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Punsch (optional) – Swedish liqueur that tastes like “what if mulled wine was also a pirate?”
The dough:
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Unsalted butter – Softened. If it’s straight from the fridge, you’ll regret it.
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Caster sugar – Fine sugar helps make the dough smooth and dreamy.
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Egg – One’s enough.
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Flour – All-purpose. Keep it simple.
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Baking powder – Not much. Just a nudge.
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Cardamom + cinnamon – That little whisper of spice in the layers makes it all make sense.
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Salt & vanilla – The usual background singers.
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How To Make Icelandic Vínarterta?
Step 1: Simmer and blend.
Dump the prunes, water, and rum into a saucepan. Simmer until soft, like “mashable with the back of a spoon” soft. Add the vanilla and punsch (if using), then blend it smooth. Hand blender works great. Taste it. Whisper “whoa” under your breath. Let it cool.
Step 2: Make the dough.
Cream butter and sugar till fluffy. Beat in egg, vanilla, salt, cardamom, cinnamon. Stir in flour + baking powder. You’ll need to use your hands at some point. Embrace it. It’s rustic.
Step 3: Roll and bake.
Divide into seven balls. Not six. Not eight. Seven. Flatten each into your best attempt at a rectangle or circle. Bake each layer for about 12 minutes on parchment — just until the edges get that faint golden halo.
Step 4: Stack with purpose.
Layer filling and pastry, carefully stacking them like you’re building a tiny edible apartment block. Don’t put filling on top. It’s not that kind of party.
Step 5: Wrap it up.
Now here’s the wild part: don’t eat it. Wrap it tight in plastic and store it in a cool (not cold) place for at least 3 days. It needs time to think. It gets better. You’ll see.
Step 6: Slice and serve.
Trim the edges if you want. Or don’t. Slice thin. Nod approvingly. Feel like you just inherited a thousand years of wisdom.
Storage Options:
Before slicing: wrap it well, room temp or a cool cupboard is perfect. Fridge? Hard pass. It dries it out faster than a passive-aggressive comment at Christmas dinner.
After slicing: fridge is fine, just rewrap tightly. It also freezes beautifully — which is nice, because one slice is kind of enough. (But also not.)
Variations and Substitutions:
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No rum? Strong brewed tea works. Chai gives it a cool twist.
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Can’t find cardamom? Allspice or nutmeg in a pinch. You’ll lose some “authentic” flavor, but gain creativity points.
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Prune haters? First, I’m sorry. Second, try dates or even apricots.
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Want to impress your hipster cousin? Add a little orange zest to the filling. Call it “modern Vínarterta.”
What to Serve with Icelandic Vínarterta?
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Coffee – Straight-up black. Maybe with a little side eye.
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Earl Grey – Fancy, floral, unexpectedly perfect with prunes.
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Mulled wine – For peak holiday drama.
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Nothing – It holds its own, truly.
Frequently Asked Questions:
Can I make this ahead?
Please do. It has to rest for a few days anyway.
Why seven layers?
I’ve heard everything from “seven days of creation” to “because it looks cool.” Either way, it works.
Can I freeze it?
Yes. Slice it, wrap it, stash it. Future you will be thrilled.
Honestly? Icelandic Vínarterta is one of those recipes that feels old in the best way. Like it knows something you don’t. Like it’s been passed down with quiet pride and prune-stained fingers. And maybe — just maybe — it’ll become one of your stories, too.
If you make it (or butcher it in the most charming way), I wanna hear about it. Send photos. Share your chaos. We’re all just trying to layer our way to something sweet.
<Remember it later>
Planning to try this recipe soon? Pin it for a quick find later!
<Remember it later>
Planning to try this recipe soon? Pin it for a quick find later!
Keep the Flavor Coming – Try These:
Icelandic Vínarterta
Ingredients
For the Filling:
- 1 kg pitted prunes
- 300 ml water
- 150 ml dark spiced rum
- 1 teaspoon ground cardamom
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 4 tablespoons punsch optional; a Swedish spiced arrack liqueur
For the Shortbread Layers:
- 250 g unsalted butter softened
- 180 g caster sugar
- 1 large egg
- 500 g plain flour
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- ½ teaspoon ground cardamom
- ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- Pinch of salt
Instructions
Prepare the filling:
- In a large saucepan, combine the prunes, water, rum, and ground cardamom. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat and cook for approximately 15 minutes, or until the prunes have softened completely. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract and punsch, if using. Using an immersion blender (or food processor), blend the mixture until smooth. Transfer the filling to a bowl, cover, and allow it to cool to room temperature.
Prepare the oven and baking trays:
- Preheat the oven to 180°C (350°F). Line two large baking trays with parchment paper and lightly brush the parchment with a small amount of neutral oil or use a non-stick liner.
Prepare the shortbread dough:
- In a mixing bowl, cream the softened butter and caster sugar together until pale and fluffy. Add the egg, vanilla extract, salt, cardamom, and cinnamon. Beat until well incorporated. Add the flour and baking powder gradually, stirring with a wooden spoon until the dough becomes too stiff. Knead gently by hand until a uniform dough forms.
Roll and bake the layers:
- Divide the dough into seven equal portions. Roll each portion into a thin layer using a rolling pin, shaping as desired (typically squares or circles). Use a template if uniformity is preferred. Place each rolled sheet onto the prepared baking trays and bake for approximately 12 minutes, or until the edges begin to turn golden. Monitor baking closely, as timing may vary by oven. Cool each layer on the tray for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.
Assemble the cake:
- Once all layers have cooled, begin assembling the cake by spreading an even layer of the cooled prune filling between each baked shortbread sheet. Stack carefully to maintain alignment. Do not spread filling on the top layer.
Wrap and rest the cake:
- Wrap the assembled cake tightly in cling film or plastic wrap. Store in a cool, dry place (not the refrigerator) for a minimum of 3 days. This resting period allows the flavors to meld and the layers to soften.
Trim and serve:
- When ready to serve, trim the edges for a cleaner appearance if desired. Slice thinly using a sharp knife and serve at room temperature.
Notes
I’m Bitty, owner of nodashofgluten.com, where I share simple, delicious recipes for all tastes, including gluten-free. Check out my “About Me” page for more info!
