In the city of Linz, Austria, under the smallest of the bridges crossing the Danube as it winds its way from Germany towards Hungary lives a family of trolls – three brothers, to be precise, formerly of the Berlin bridges but forced to move during the monster raids of ’76.
For the past several years, the trolls have lived peacefully under Bridge Schinken, eating schnitzel and strudel when they can get them, content to finish the scraps that people throw off the bridge for the fishes. But lately, with the emergence of camera phones, the trolls have had trouble escaping detection when they rise up to the surface to scout for food, and have been the subject of several troubling Facebook and Instagram posts.
As a result of this unwanted publicity, city officials of Linz have released an advisory notice, warning all residents and visitors to avoid Bridge Schinken, specifically not to throw food into the water, and by no means to pass underneath its wooden sub-structure.
For three days, the trolls have sat hungry under the bridge, wondering where all the people are. The wireless under the bridge is spotty, and they have no idea that they are now the subject of a viral internet campaign to discredit trolls everywhere. The trolls scout the banks of the river, even venturing so far as the jogging path looking for discarded bratwurst and sauerkraut, to no avail.
It is day five, and the trolls have become despondent. They do nothing all day except stare at their big hairy toes with glum looks on their faces. It is in this state that a small Austrian girl named Lisel comes upon them, bearing a tray of linzer-torte cookies. The trolls glance in her direction, their dull eyes brightening at the sight of the sugar-dusted biscuits.
“Guten Tag,” says the girl. “I made these for you.”
The eldest brother troll raises his hand in a slow, classic troll greeting. “Guten Tag,” he replies gravely. “You are the first human we have seen in days. Do you know what has happened to the others?”
“Ja,” says the girl. “Klar, that’s why I’ve come. I believe you have been the targets of a vicious smear attempt, orchestrated by rival orcs in the city of Gratz. It is a distraction method on their part, as they plan to blame the recent robbery of several Gratz bakeries on local trolls.”
The middle brother sits up. “That’s terrible,” he says. “Somebody should do something.”
“I plan to,” says Lisel. “And it starts with us sitting down and sharing these linzer-torte cookies.”
At this point the trolls have begun to trust Lisel. They sit down next to her and munch on the delicious cookie sandwiches with their raspberry filling, while Lisel snaps selfies of herself with the trolls and immediately posts them to all of her social media accounts, as well as video footage to youtube, with the hashtag, #TheTruthAboutTrolls.
- Combine all ingredients except jam.
- Roll out dough on (tapioca/arrowroot dusted) parchment paper to ¼ inch thickness, use cookie cutters to cut out linzer-torte shapes. Transfer to baking pans.
- Bake at 325 degrees for 12-15 minutes or until slightly browned.
- When cool, spread with raspberry jam and assemble.