Food/Recipes

Quickly Jean, a member in good standing of the Slovenian Women’s Association in Chisholm, spread a mixture of crushed walnuts, butter, cream and honey across the thin dough. Then, as a master stroke, she lifted one edge of the sheet to start the massive pastry’s journey to a tight spiral.

The appreciative crowd went wild, erupting into loud, enthusiastic applause as the final rolling of the huge sweet bread turned into a much beloved ethnic treat known as potica (“po-teet-sah”).

In the taping of the more than 40 cooking shows I’ve done for WDSE public television over the years, it was the only time I’d witnessed such an outburst. There were more than a dozen wonderful dishes prepared that day on stage by engaging cooks for the program showcasing classic Iron Range cuisine. It was only the consummation of the potica recipe that rated such adulation.

No surprise to anyone who’s sampled the eastern European traditional treat pronounced around Lake Superior as “po-teet-sah” or “paw-tee-sa” – but never, NEVER “pot-ih-ka,” as it seems to be spelled.

Potica is likely familiar to anyone who grew up in – or anywhere near – a Slovenian, Croatian or Serbian family. (Which qualifies most of those who grew up on our iron ranges in Minnesota and Michigan.) The rich, Old World pastry could be simply described as a walnut roll, but that would in no way do it justice.

Prized for its delicate buttery layers of thin pastry and honey-sweet creamy walnut filling, it is a classic for Christmas.

“My mother made potica, her mother made potica, my aunt made potica,” says Janet Sopp of Eveleth, Minnesota, who is now sought after for her potica. “When they started making potica, you knew the holidays were coming. We would have potica on Christmas morning with ham.”

Ginny Forti, whose Italian family has a bakery in Hibbing, Minnesota, also remembers the treat. “I remember when I was young, an employee at our bakery whose mother made potica around Christmastime; I looked forward to it every year. Finally, I said, ‘Dad let’s try potica.’”

Thanks to young Ginny’s good idea, Hibbing’s Sunrise Bakery is famous for its potica, which ships to customers all over the country and all over the world. (Ginny now runs the bakery.) In fact, at least two other bakeries on the Minnesota Iron Range also have national and worldwide orders for their potica.

Another part of the Lake Superior region is also familiar with potica. Frank Bartel hails from Traunik in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, settled by many Eastern European immigrants, some of whom came from the original Traunik in Slovenia. Calling around in the region, it is his name that is mentioned as a maker of the local potica, though not for commercial use.

Frank remembers potica playing a more prominent role during the elaborate Easter morning breakfasts of his childhood with ham and horseradish.

“Potica means ‘something rolled up’ or ‘to roll something up’ in Slovenian,” Frank says.

That is where the differences in recipes begin. Debates crop up regarding dough to filling ratios, and straight nut filling versus those studded with raisins.

“Potica recipes often differ slightly from neighbor to neighbor,” says Frank, “And even larger variations from region to region.”

Frank has visited Slovenia 11 times over the years and says that nut potica is regarded as a holiday dish for Easter and Christmas, “too heavy for summer fare.”

Potica and its variations came from Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia and neighboring countries where walnut trees are fairly common. For immigrants who settled in the New World to work in mining towns or to start farms, potica is alternately known as povitica, or orehnjaca.

And just like pasties, those hand-held meat pies that originated in Wales then were modified around the mining communities of Lake Superior, potica has multiple versions and factions who are loyal – sometimes stringently so – to their local bakery versions or to whatever Grandmother first made them.

Some versions of the recipe include raisins, some fruit such as apples. Other nuts can be used, too, and pecans are popular.

In Michigan, Frank believes potica should not be rolled out too thinly, whereas working the yeast dough to a fine layer is the goal of good potica makers in Minnesota.