Cantuccini, the "corner piece" from the Tuscan bakery
Cantuccini are elongated almond cookies from Tuscany, baked as a log of dough and sliced diagonally while still hot. Traditionally, they are dipped in Vin Santo. We offer two interpretations side-by-side: the rigorous version from Prato, made without butter, and the crumbly version from Quarrata, containing plenty of it.
Cantuccini get their name because they are leftovers. In Tuscan dialect, "cantuccio" refers to the corner piece, the cut from the end of a loaf—the little bit that remains. This byproduct became the region's most famous pastry, and the name stuck to it like a childhood nickname that one never managed to shake off.
A cookie named after its remains
The shape is a result of the process. The dough enters the oven as an elongated log and is then sliced diagonally, which creates the pointed ends.
The Italian word "biscotto" tells the rest of the story: twice-baked. Pastries that are dehydrated twice last for months, and that was the original intention. The cookie was travel provisions, monastery food, a winter store, long before it ever landed on coffee tables.
To this day, Tuscany remains distinct from other biscuit-making traditions because of this. A cantuccino is not meant to be bitten into, but to be dipped; this one action explains the entire pastry. Those who eat it dry haven't read the instructions.
That leaves the question everyone standing in front of the shelf asks: Cantucci or Cantuccini? Linguistically, Cantuccini is simply the diminutive of Cantucci, and both words refer to the same pastry. In the Italian countryside, people tend to say "Cantucci," while "Cantuccini" has become the standard in retail and outside of Tuscany. The EU register protects both spellings equally, and you will find both on the bags in your kitchen cupboard.
Originally, the pastry was a reserve and travel provision, not a delicacy. Baked twice, it survives for weeks without refrigeration, and for centuries that was its only purpose. It wasn't until the 19th century that it became a specialty for which people won awards and opened shops, and the accolades that Antonio Mattei collected in the 1860s read like a travel itinerary through Europe's world exhibitions today.
Three houses, two schools, one pastry
Our selection includes Cantuccini from three Tuscan bakeries, and they could hardly be more different.
There are the Cantuccini La Mattonella by Antonio Mattei from Prato, grainy and firm, wrapped in blue paper and tied with string, also available in the large 500-gram bag. Beside them are the Cantucci Toscani IGP from Fratelli Lunardi in Quarrata, light and buttery, with the protected seal on the bag. And the Cantucci alla Mandorla from Marabissi, the version for smaller needs.
Lunardi also innovates by offering the pastry in different varieties, which is by no means standard in Tuscany. The Biscotti con Cioccolato with chunks of dark chocolate are also available in a 400-gram bag, joined by the Biscotti con Limone with soft cubes of candied lemon. For those who previously thought of Cantuccini only in terms of almonds, these provide the counter-evidence.
Hard or crumbly, that is the real question
The most important distinction in this category is not the variety, but the butter. It divides two schools of thought, and both are right.
The rigorous school does without it. Antonio Mattei bakes his Biscotti di Prato from five ingredients, with no butterfat, no yeast, and no flavorings. The result is firm, grainy, dry, and made specifically to be softened in Vin Santo. Those who eat this cookie plain will find it too hard, and those who dip it will understand why it has been baked without change since 1858.
The other school adds butter. We turned to tradition and added butter to the recipe so that the cookies would become soft, says Paola Stabilini of the House of Lunardi. This cantuccino breaks rather than resists and does not require a glass by its side. It is the more comfortable choice for an afternoon tea; for the classic conclusion to a Tuscan meal, the hard version remains the correct one.
Practically speaking: those who dip choose Prato. Those who eat them straight out of the hand choose Quarrata. And if you want to try both, place a light bag and a dark bag next to each other and decide after the third cookie.
The second question is about quantity. A 200-gram bag is enough for two to three coffee rounds and is the right size to get to know a brand. The 400 and 500-gram bags are meant for when you already know what you like, and they are more cost-effective per hundred grams. When giving as a gift, the smaller bag is considered the more elegant.
And finally, the variety. Almond is the classic and the only version with the seal; chocolate is the most robust, lemon the lightest. If you are looking in the summer, grab the lemon; if you have guests during Advent, go for the chocolate; and if you want the true Tuscan dessert, choose almond and place a glass of sweet wine next to it.
Prato since 1858, Quarrata since 1966
Behind these bags are three family businesses with very different histories and a shared oven philosophy.
Antonio Mattei opened a bakery in the center of Prato on September 29, 1858, where he initially baked bread and made pasta. His pastries struck a chord: awarded in Florence in 1861, London in 1862, and Paris in 1867. A brave man with a genius for his craft, according to Pellegrino Artusi, the patron saint of Italian culinary literature—and anyone who knows Artusi knows how sparing he was with praise. You can read more about the house at Antonio Mattei.
One hundred years later, in 1966, the parents of Massimiliano and Riccardo Lunardi opened a village bakery with a small shop in Quarrata, near Pistoia. The sons took it over, put their name above the door, and transformed the bread business into a biscuit bakery without giving up the bread. Their entire range can be found at Fratelli Lunardi.
The third house is Marabissi, whose Nonna Jole line represents the domestic side of the Tuscan baking tradition, including Amaretti and Panforte. Three companies, three styles, the same diagonal knife.
What the IGP seal really requires
Since January 26, 2016, Tuscan almond Cantucci have been a Protected Geographical Indication. The EU registered them with Regulation 2016/81.
The consortium Assocantuccini submitted the application in 2011, and the regulations behind it are brief and exacting. Whole, natural almonds with a minimum content of 20 percent, plus flour, sugar, eggs, butter, and honey. The dough is baked as a loaf and sliced diagonally while still hot. Both spellings, Cantucci Toscani and Cantuccini Toscani, are protected, and only those baking within Tuscany are permitted to produce them.
Two things are remarkable about this. Firstly, the seal says nothing about the butter content, which is why Lunardi is still permitted to carry it for their crumbly version. Secondly, it mandates unpeeled almonds, and that is not a trivial detail: the brown skin provides that fine bitterness which peeled almonds lose. Compliance is monitored by an agency authorized by the Italian Ministry of Agriculture.
Identifying a protected bag is easy. Next to the yellow-blue EU symbol for protected geographical indications, there is a second, red seal from the consortium which reads "Cantucci Toscani IGP." If either is missing, the cookie is not necessarily inferior; it simply has not submitted to the regulations. For the chocolate or lemon varieties, the seal is necessarily absent, because the regulation only recognizes the almond version.
Not every good cantuccino bears the seal, and that is not a flaw. Mattei's Biscotti di Prato easily meet the requirement for almond content but forgo the butter, thus falling outside the definition. A set of rules describes a tradition; it does not replace it.
Vin Santo, espresso, and the rest of the bag
The classic way is the shortest. Dip the cantuccino in the Vin Santo until the edge softens, take a bite, pour another glass.
Any dessert wine works just as well, a Passito just as much as an Auslese Riesling. After a meal, espresso works, because the roasted note picks up the almond rather than covering it, and a mild grappa pairs perfectly with the pastry in any case. In Italy, the hard cookie lands in a caffè latte in the morning, without any ceremony.
Savory works too. Aged pecorino and a spoonful of honey alongside a dry almond cookie make for an appetizer that almost no one here thinks of. And if only crumbs are left in the bag at the end, that is not a loss, but an ingredient: roughly chopped over vanilla ice cream, crumbled into a tiramisu base, or processed with butter and sugar into a tart crust.
When dipping, a little patience is worthwhile. Two to three seconds in the glass are enough for the tip to soften while the rest remains firm; this alternation of soft and crunchy in the same bite is the real point of the exercise. Those who wait too long will lose the cookie in the wine, which may not shock anyone in Tuscany, but is a shame for both.
Storing them requires little. Kept closed, dry, and at room temperature, the crumb stays as it should be for weeks. Cold harms the aroma more than it benefits shelf life, and humidity robs the cookie of the exact crunch you bought it for.
A bag that is a pleasure to give
Cantuccini are a gift that requires no extra wrapping, because the bag itself is already the packaging.
At Mattei, it is blue paper with string and a tag—the shade of which has been registered as a color trademark at the European trademark office since 2019, a feat achieved by only one other company in the Italian food sector before them. At Lunardi, it is the illustrated bags designed for the house by Florentine calligrapher Betty Soldi, young and colorful. Two paths, one goal: you don't need to add anything else.
It looks beautiful when two bags are placed side-by-side, one hard and one crumbly, accompanied by a bottle of sweet wine. For those who want to think further ahead, combine them with Italian pastries from the Sweet Pastries selection or browse the rest of the Italian range, where Panforte, Amaretti, and chocolate are waiting to join the same coffee table.
Christmas is the obvious time for it, but honestly, this pastry carries through every year. In summer, the lemon version lands on the terrace alongside an espresso; in autumn, the almond alongside a glass of sweet wine; and during Advent, the large chocolate bag vanishes faster than anyone could have predicted.
If you want to bake them yourself, be warned: the process is simple, but the result is rarely as good. The second trip to the oven determines everything, and the houses in Prato and Quarrata have a head start of a hundred years or more in that regard. Between a homemade cantuccino and a Tuscan one lies the exact experience that cannot be shortcut. That is a trade-off one is happy to make.
A cookie that began as a leftover and made it to London and Munich needs no occasion. It only needs a glass by its side.
