Nanaimo Bars, the Essential No-Bake Canadian Christmas Treat

The Nanaimo bar requires no glitter to sparkle, but it will certainly shine at any cookie swap or holiday celebration you take it to.

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Maybe candy canes, marshmallows, and sugar cookies aren’t your thing, but you’ve still got a sweet tooth. You want to partake in the holiday cookie swap as usual—it’s just that you’re looking for something that’s easy, no-bake, and isn’t covered in sparkles or shaped like a snowflake. We have just the dessert for you: the Nanaimo bar, an iconic Canadian confection.

Most Canadians grow up knowing and loving the Nanaimo bar, but I, a child deprived of sweets, did not encounter my first one until I was 16, when I was offered a slice by a high school teacher. I remember biting into the top layer of chocolate, meeting the soft, rich middle of custard-flavored buttercream, and finally, reaching the salty-sweet crunch of the graham cracker, coconut, and chocolate base. I could see why my parents had hidden this dessert from me. It was so rich and sweet that I suspected that my single bite had inspired a cavity to begin forming then and there. But there was something so pleasing about its contrasts in texture—the crispness of the graham crackers and coconut against the velvety buttercream—that I immediately wanted another taste.

According to Lenore Newman, the director of the Food and Agriculture Institute at the University of Fraser Valley, “The first known recipe [for the confection] was included in the 1952 Women’s Auxiliary to the Nanaimo Hospital Cookbook.” The book has “three nearly identical recipes for the dessert that differ only slightly from the modern version,” she says, “under the names Chocolate Square (twice) and Chocolate Slice.” It’s possible the bar was born when older recipes for traybakes and bars were updated with a new icing—one made with Bird’s Custard Powder, an egg-free, vanilla-flavored powder used to make instant custard that, along with other ready-made ingredients, became popular after World War II. 

As refrigeration, butter, and sugar became more accessible in the postwar period, square desserts that were set and refrigerated—referred to as “dainties”—became increasingly popular. But Newman notes that the move toward premade, modern-feeling ingredients “was more about status than time saving. Nanaimo bars, already costly due to their high butter and sugar content, required several purchased premade goods, and required time and care to make.” For young homemakers, Nanaimo bars and other dainties became something of a status symbol—living proof of the achievability of the modern Canadian dream.

Since its inception in the 1950s, the bar has been proudly claimed by the citizens of Nanaimo, a city on Vancouver Island located across the Strait of Georgia from Vancouver, and has gone on to inspire many other desserts across Canada, like Nanaimo bar-flavored cheesecakes, cupcakes, doughnuts, and more. When I moved to the United States, I was surprised to find that many Americans I met had never tasted—or heard of—this confection. While there are many similar recipes, like cowboy cookie bars or chocolate coconut bars, none of those really stand up to the Nanaimo bar in flavor or texture. In the words of chef Tyler Duft, “It’s a slice of Canadiana…as soon as you go across the border, it doesn’t exist.”

Duft and his wife, Red Seal–certified pastry chef Cassandra Crocco, are the owners of Duft & Co Bakehouse in Abbotsford, British Columbia. Some Canadians feel strongly that a Nanaimo bar isn’t a Nanaimo bar if it isn’t made with Bird’s Custard Powder, but Crocco and Duft disagree. What can make or break a Nanaimo bar isn’t custard powder, they say, but the ability to “nail the combination between the fat, the salt, the sugar so it doesn’t wind up just being this monotone sort of taste.” They use vanilla paste in lieu of custard powder, and top their bars with a touch of Maldon salt, which helps to balance the sweetness of the filling.

Although Nanaimo bars are available year-round, they’re a feature of holiday season in Canada. Newman tells me, “They’re the kind of things you eat at Christmas, like shortbread cookies.” During the holidays, Newman will make them for her family and often brings them to parties. They make a nice gift and because they’re portioned and easy to pick up are a great finger food.

When I failed to locate a bakery that sold Nanaimo bars near me in the States, I turned to Canadian chef Anthony Rose’s cookbook, The Last Schmaltz, to guide me. I had assumed it would be a trying and frustrating process to recreate a beloved and nostalgic snack from my homeland, but I was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was simple, belonging to the genre of “set it and forget it” cooking.

With three distinct layers, the bar may look difficult to make. But as long as you let each layer set properly before adding the next, it’s an easy project that you can return to whenever it’s convenient. I like to make my base, plop it into the fridge to set, then pull the butter from the fridge to allow it to come to room temperature for the buttercream filling. I go about my day, and by the time I’m ready to make the next layer—usually in an hour or two—my base has set and my butter is ready to be whipped into buttercream. An hour before I’m ready to serve the bars, I melt the chocolate chips, then glaze the top, which firms up slightly.

The Nanaimo bar requires no glitter to sparkle, but it will certainly shine at any cookie swap or holiday celebration you bring it to. Sharing them with my American friends, I’m brought back to my very first bite of this sweet, rich confection—and make a note to myself to brush my teeth after.

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