← Back to Blog

Holiday Almond Tassies — The Little Bites That Made Our New House Feel Like Home

Thanksgiving landed on a Thursday as it always does, but this year it landed in a new house, and that changes everything. After twenty-two years in the old place on Sycamore Drive, celebrating in a kitchen with more counter space than I knew what to do with felt simultaneously luxurious and strange. The island alone is larger than the entire workspace I had before. Gary kept catching my eye as we cooked, both of us wearing this slightly dazed grin, like we couldn't quite believe this was real.

The whole family came — Ethan and Mia with little Clara, who is walking confidently now and has opinions about everything, and Henry, who is just thirteen months old and decided Thanksgiving was the perfect time to show us his first steps. He let go of the coffee table, wobbled magnificently, and took three determined steps toward Clara before sitting down hard. We all gasped. Clara clapped. Henry looked enormously proud of himself. I may have cried into the cranberry sauce.

I made my grandmother's chestnut stuffing for the first time in the new oven, nervous that things would behave differently. Ovens have personalities, and I hadn't learned this one yet. But it came out golden and fragrant and exactly right, and I took that as a good sign. The new house approved. I also tried a spiced maple glaze on the turkey, something I've been developing for the channel, and it got unanimous praise even from Gary, who is traditionally skeptical of anything that departs from the classic.

After dinner, while the kids napped and Gary did dishes, I walked slowly through each room. The light at this hour, late November gold, poured through the big western windows in the living room in a way I'm still not used to. The backyard was bare and waiting, the garden beds just dirt now but full of promise. I thought about Grace, as I always do on Thanksgiving. She would have loved this house. She would have found something hilarious about Henry's first steps happening precisely when we were all looking. That was her gift — noticing the comic timing of life.

I wrote notes for next week's channel video: new oven review, chestnut stuffing recipe, the maple turkey. But mostly I just sat with the gratitude of it. A new home, healthy grandchildren, a family gathered around a table eating food made with love. Whatever comes next, this was a good Thanksgiving.

After a Thanksgiving that already held more than I expected — Henry’s first steps, the new oven passing its first real test, Gary washing dishes while I wandered room to room in grateful disbelief — I wanted the dessert table to feel just as special without competing with everything else. These Holiday Almond Tassies are exactly that: small, elegant, a little nutty, and completely unfussy, the kind of thing you can set out on a new kitchen island and watch disappear before the coffee is even poured. They’ve been part of my holiday rotation for years, and bringing them into this new house felt like carrying something familiar across the threshold with us.

Holiday Almond Tassies

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 22 minutes | Total Time: 47 minutes (plus 1 hour chilling) | Servings: 24 tassies

Ingredients

  • For the pastry shell:
  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
  • 3 oz cream cheese, softened
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 tsp fine salt
  • For the almond filling:
  • 3/4 cup almond paste (not marzipan), crumbled
  • 1/3 cup granulated sugar
  • 2 large eggs
  • 2 tbsp unsalted butter, melted and cooled
  • 1/2 tsp pure almond extract
  • 1/4 tsp vanilla extract
  • Pinch of salt
  • For finishing:
  • 24 whole blanched almonds (for topping)
  • Powdered sugar, for dusting

Instructions

  1. Make the pastry dough. Beat the softened butter and cream cheese together in a medium bowl until smooth and well combined, about 2 minutes. Add flour and salt, mixing until a soft dough forms. Divide dough into 24 equal balls (about 1 tsp each), place on a plate, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour or overnight.
  2. Preheat and prep the pan. Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Lightly grease a 24-cup mini muffin pan. Press one dough ball into each cup, using your thumbs to push it evenly up the sides to form a small shell. Return the pan to the refrigerator while you make the filling.
  3. Make the almond filling. In a medium bowl, beat the crumbled almond paste and sugar together until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add eggs, melted butter, almond extract, vanilla extract, and salt. Beat until the filling is smooth and uniform, about 1–2 minutes.
  4. Fill the shells. Remove the pan from the refrigerator. Spoon approximately 1 heaping teaspoon of almond filling into each pastry shell, filling to about 3/4 full. The filling will puff slightly as it bakes. Press one whole blanched almond gently into the center of each filled tassie.
  5. Bake. Bake at 350°F for 20–22 minutes, until the filling is set and golden and the edges of the pastry are lightly browned. The tassies should not jiggle when the pan is gently shaken.
  6. Cool and release. Allow tassies to cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Run a thin offset spatula or butter knife around the edges to loosen, then carefully lift each tassie out. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
  7. Finish and serve. Once fully cooled, dust generously with powdered sugar just before serving. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 4 days, or freeze (without the powdered sugar) for up to 6 weeks.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 118 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 10g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 48mg

Michelle Larson
About the cook who shared this
Michelle Larson
Week 371 of Michelle’s 30-year story · Provo, Utah
Michelle is a forty-four-year-old mom of six in Provo, Utah, a former accountant who traded spreadsheets for freezer meal prep and never looked back. She is LDS, organized to a fault, and can fill a chest freezer with sixty labeled meals in a single Sunday afternoon. She lost her second baby to SIDS and carries that grief in everything she does — including the way she feeds her family, which she does with a precision and devotion that borders on sacred.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?