18th Century Italians Proposed With Cream Buns—Do the Same With Our Maritozzi Recipe

The summer before I graduated from college, I traipsed around Italy with nothing more than a large backpack and an empty stomach. I traveled all over the country, eager to try the local delights of every city I stopped in: I devoured seafood risotto in Venice, schiacciata (a Tuscan flatbread) in Florence, and tortelli in Parma, among many other memorable meals. In Rome, I first encountered maritozzi—sweet brioche-like buns filled with whipped cream. The buns are often sold with nothing more than the whipped cream filling and a light dusting of confectioners’ sugar, though some pastry shops garnish them with chopped nuts, chocolate curls, or fresh fruit. It’s my concept of a breakfast of champions—especially when served with a hot cappuccino.

Maritozzi have apparently been around since medieval times. According to numerous sources, a version of the pastry made with nuts and dried fruit was once eaten as a Lenten treat. (Although it might seem implausible as an abstemious pastry, it’s likely they would have been allowed during Lent because the bun was made with olive oil instead of animal fat—and presumably not filled with cream in the Lenten version.) Maritozzi were also an essential part of marriage proposals: In Saveur, writer Rebecca Firkser notes that “a man would give his intended one of these buns, perhaps even having a ring or another token of affection baked inside—thus earning the maritozzi their name,” as “marito” means “husband” in Italian. 

Somewhere along the way, maritozzi became a more common fixture of Roman pastry shops, and today, many establishments sell the buns year-round. Yearning for the delightful cream-filled treats I enjoyed on my trip to Italy many years ago, I took it upon myself to come up with a homemade version that’s almost as good as one you’d find from a Roman pasticceria: a tender orange-scented bun sweetened with honey, enriched with olive oil, and filled with mascarpone whipped cream.

Getting the Dough Right for Maritozzi

Many maritozzi recipes use rich, buttery brioche dough for the buns. In my research, however, I came across many traditional Italian recipes that had no butter at all—instead, most maritozzi doughs call for olive oil. I decided to skip the butter and use olive oil instead. For the plushest buns, I also used a variation of shokupan (milk bread) dough, which gets its tenderness not from butter, but from a scalded flour mixture like tangzhong or yudane. 

Tangzhong is made by cooking flour and water or milk together on the stove until thickened, and calls for about four parts water to one part flour. Yudane, on the other hand, typically uses equal parts liquid to dry ingredients, and is made by whisking boiling water or milk into flour. Both methods help the starches in the flour—amylose and amylopectin—hydrate and gelatinize, producing a moister loaf that resists becoming stale longer than breads made without a scalded flour mixture. “Because a gelled mixture of flour and water is drier in texture than an identical ungelled one, it allows you to make a dough with more water in it than it could otherwise contain—without turning it to soup,” our contributor Andrew Janjigian writes in his shokupan recipe. “I call this ‘stealth’ hydration: The extra water is there, but you can’t see or feel it in the dough.” 

Janjigian’s shokupan recipe uses a clever technique that’s slightly different from the traditional yudane method: Instead of equal parts flour and liquid, he uses one part flour to three parts liquid, and swaps out the wheat flour for glutinous rice flour, which is nearly 100% amylopectin. Because amylopectin molecules are highly branched, they’re “unable to stack together and crystallize as efficiently,” Janjigian writes, which helps the loaf stay softer for longer. He has you pour boiling milk over glutinous rice flour and sugar, then whisk it until it becomes a pudding-like consistency, which allows the rice flour to swell and gelatinize—achieving the same thing as the stovetop method but with much less effort. 

Using his milk bread recipe as a starting point, I made several tweaks until I landed on a maritozzi dough I was happy with: I swapped the butter for olive oil, sweetened the dough with honey instead of granulated sugar, and incorporated fresh orange zest to give the buns a citrus kick. The result is a luxuriously soft and subtly sweet dough that’s delicious enough to eat on its own—but, yes, even better when filled with cream.

Proofing and Shaping Maritozzi Dough

After the dough is mixed, it sits at room temperature for up to 90 minutes, which helps jumpstart the fermentation process. The dough is then refrigerated for at least two hours, which helps it firm up and makes it easier to shape into round buns. You can also leave the dough in the fridge for up to 24 hours. This gives the dough a longer, slower proof, resulting in even more flavorful buns and giving you more flexibility on when you bake them. For example, you could prep the dough at night and bake the maritozzi the next morning. Just don’t let the dough sit in the fridge for more than 24 hours, or they will overproof. 

When the dough has proofed, you’ll divide it into eight equal portions, then pre-shape each into a round—which helps align the gluten strands into the general shape you want—before allowing the rounds to rest for 30 minutes. The resting will make it easier for you to eventually finish shaping the buns. If you’ve ever worked with pie or bread doughs and have noticed the dough springing back, it’s because gluten development has made the dough elastic. Giving the dough time to rest reduces its elasticity, making it easier to shape. To shape the buns, you simply have to cup the dough in your hand, set it onto a lightly floured countertop, then roll it in a circular motion until a tight ball forms. It’s fun—and therapeutic.

Filling and Topping Maritozzi

The two most common fillings for maritozzi are whipped cream and whipped cream with mascarpone, a rich, soft fresh Italian cheese. While whipped cream is delicious on its own, I much prefer the extra creaminess and subtle cultured flavor that mascarpone brings. Plus: Its thickness helps stabilize the filling, making it possible for the maritozzi to sit at room temperature for an hour or two—like for a brunch or picnic—if needed.

As for toppings for the cream-filled maritozzi, you can’t go wrong with a simple dusting of confectioners’ sugar. But if you’d like to add some texture and color, chopped toasted pistachios, chocolate curls, and candied citrus are all good options. You could even top them with sliced fresh strawberries. Something tells me you’ll enjoy these “marry me” buns whichever route you go.

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