Thin as Paper, Strong as Belief

A De La Vega story about apple strudel, friendship, and becoming

When I started De La Vega, I had almost nothing—no safety net, no capital, and very little certainty. What I had was a quiet conviction and a kitchen that felt too small for the dreams inside me. Around me were many competitors, established names, confident voices. People doubted me. Some said it was already too crowded. Some said I was too late.

Then someone arrived at exactly the right moment.

His name is Oliver Hynek—a friend who became family. At a time when belief was scarce, he believed in me without conditions. He stood beside me when it mattered most, not with loud promises, but with presence, trust, and generosity.

Oliver is from Austria. One day, he shared something deeply personal: his grandmother’s apple strudel recipe from Vienna. Not a commercial recipe. Not something written for profit. A family memory, passed through hands, flour, and time.

That was the beginning of a long, humbling journey.

The dough that teaches patience

Making strudel dough is not romantic—it is demanding. The dough must be stretched until it becomes almost invisible. So thin that you should be able to read a newspaper through it. Every time I worked on it, I learned humility. One tear, one rushed movement, and hours of work were gone. It demanded stillness, patience, and respect.

The filling that asks for integrity

The inside was just as challenging. Finding the right apples—organic, balanced, not too sweet, not too sharp—took time and persistence. I wanted to honor the soul of the original while making it aligned with our values. No shortcuts. No compromises.

The fire that tests commitment

Baking it was another lesson entirely. The dough is extremely thin, the filling dense. One wrong degree and it burns. We chose to bake it slowly in our conventional oven—on purpose. Two hours of attention, not automation. Because some things deserve time.

Rejection before recognition

At first, it was rejected. Some panels gave it 2 out of 10. They said it wouldn’t sell. They said it was too different. I listened—but I didn’t surrender. Instead, I adjusted gently. I refined the dough. I made it diabetic-friendly, without sugar, while preserving the character of a true strudel.

And then—everything changed.

It became one of our top five best sellers.

Authenticity you can taste

I later traveled to Vienna to taste apple strudel at its roots, in the city where it belongs. And here is my honest truth: I personally believe ours is better—not because it is louder or richer, but because it is lighter, healthier, and made with intention. No sugar. No excess. Just clarity.

Maybe what people taste is not only apples and dough—
maybe they taste friendship.
Trust.
And the quiet resilience behind it.

You can enjoy this apple strudel exclusively in our shop, served with heavy whipping cream made from 97% milk. And yes—internally, we lovingly call it “The Inglorious Bastard”, a small nod to my favorite Quentin Tarantino film. If you know, you know. Just watch it.

This strudel exists because someone believed when belief was rare.

Thank you, Oliver, for bringing your grandmother’s legacy into my life—
and for standing with me when De La Vega was only a fragile idea.

Some recipes change your menu.
Some change your life.

With love,

Laura