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On a tiramisù tear

This perfect dessert picks you up — and up and up

I don’t know that I’ve ever had a really good tiramisù until I made one. I’ve been hooked on this rich and wonderful dessert for years. But given I’ve had no Italian friends or relatives, at least none that would indulge me with a slice of their homemade version of same, I’ve had to rely on restaurants for this little slice of heaven.

While they were delicious — creamy, rich, coffee-flavoured custard variously laced with, what? Kahlua? Tia Maria? Brandy? — I, the newly minted tiramisù maker, now realize that most were a bit fake, lazy or fear-based charlatans masquerading as the real thing.

One I recall was made without ladyfingers — yikes! Instead, a crust of chocolate cookie crumbs served as a base for a coffee-flavoured custard. Another I suspect dispensed with the beaten egg yolks, yet another was cooked custard, both versions likely done in terror of serving raw eggs to the public.

The catalyst for my sudden and unexpected departure into this dessert-making venture was my husband’s new espresso machine. The need for nearly two cups, as in measuring cups, of fresh, strong espresso gave him the perfect chance to practice grinding and tamping as he pulled espresso cup after cup. By the time we had the required amount, he’d gotten very good at producing a nice rich crema on top of every cup.

When we served the tiramisù after dinner that night, we all swooned. Dusted with cocoa powder, the little square servings made for a perfect finish. One pal commented that he thought the name “tiramisù” translated to “heavenly something”. And that made me curious.

A few dictionaries and good reference books later I can tell you with certainty that “tiramisù” translates as “pick me up” or “lift me up”. And what a pick-me-up it is. We calculated that the recipe I used, which yielded 20 satisfying servings, amounted to each person having a single espresso.

But the name is even more apropos beyond the obvious reference to caffeine. One particularly detailed account called “Tiramisù, A Trip to Where It All Started” written by Pietro Mascioni and posted on an excellent website hosted by Anna Maria Volpi, who runs cooking classes for Williams-Sonoma, explains that “pick-me-up” also refers to how nutritious the dessert is. If that’s good nutrition, I say bring it on.

After reading the first documented mention of tiramisù in an article in a 1981 issue of the magazine Vin Veneto , Mr. Mascioni visited the wellspring from which all tiramisù flows — the restaurant Le Beccherie in the city of Treviso in Veneto in northern Italy.

There he met the mother of tiramisù, Signora Alba Campeol, and her husband. They ran Le Beccherie back in the early ’70s. When her son, Carlo, who runs the restaurant now, was born she was so weak her mother-in-law gave her a simple zabaglione, made in the typical Treviso style — egg yolk and sugar beaten together with a little mascarpone cheese. She also added some coffee to lift her daughter-in-law even further “up”.

It was so good that Signora Campeol asked their chef to try and make a dessert out of it. He added the concept of dipping ladyfingers ( savoiardi in Italian) into the espresso.

The first published photo of tiramesù, as it was called in the Venetian dialect, in Vin Veneto shows a simple, round, relatively flat custard, much the size and shape of a pie. The ladyfingers stuck out radially like spokes. The top is covered with such a thick dusting of cocoa powder that one would be “picked up” by all that chocolate.

So, no, tiramisù wasn’t a “pick-me-up” for prostitutes who supposedly lived in the brothel above Le Beccherie (although that makes for a titillating image). And, no, tiramisù isn’t zuppa inglese, like other myths perpetrate. But it is a wickedly delicious dessert that’s rewarding and easy to make.

Below are two recipes: the one I used and the original one from Le Beccherie, scaled down from restaurant proportions. Be warned — they both contain raw eggs, which we all have our personal take on. For what it’s worth, I used free-range, organic ones and eight of us have survived very nicely after eating them raw. And if you can’t make espresso, strong coffee will do.

As for adding liquor, the recipe I used includes an amount so modest we couldn’t taste it, but Signora Campeol’s parting words to Pietro Mascioni were: “Please don’t put any liquor in the tiramisù because we give it to children and elderly people for energy.”

 

IL TIRAMISU LEGITTIMO DELLE BECCHERIE

(The original tiramisù recipe from Le Beccherie, via Anna Maria Volpi)

 

1 1/2 cups (360 cc) strong espresso coffee

2 teaspoons sugar

4 egg yolks

1/2 cup (100 g) sugar

1 lb (450 g) mascarpone cheese, at room temperature

30 savoiardi ( ladyfinger cookies)

2 tablespoons bitter cocoa powder

 

Prepare the espresso and dissolve the sugar in it when the coffee is still hot. Let it cool to room temperature. Beat the egg yolks until they become light and fluffy. Add in the mascarpone cheese. Dip half of the ladyfingers in the coffee and place in the pan in a single layer. Spread half of the mascarpone cream on the cookies. Dip the remaining ladyfingers in the coffee and place in the pan in a second layer, and spread the remaining mascarpone cream on top. Sprinkle with the cocoa powder and refrigerate for about 3-4 hours.

 

The recipe I used goes like this:

 

1 1/2 cups espresso

1 oz coffee-flavoured liqueur or cognac

550 g mascarpone cheese

500 g ladyfingers

4 eggs, separated (at room temperature)

100 ml sugar (scant half cup)

Cocoa powder

 

Mix the espresso and liqueur/cognac in a small dish. Beat the egg yolks in a bowl, gradually adding the sugar until the mixture is creamy (don’t worry if the sugar doesn’t dissolve entirely — it will later). Gently fold in the mascarpone until it’s smooth (you may have a few small lumps, but these too will disappear). Beat the egg whites until stiff in a separate bowl and gently fold them into the yolk/cheese mixture. Dip about half the ladyfingers quickly in the coffee mixture and cover the bottom of a rectangular pan (a lasagna pan worked). Cover them with half the cheese mixture, then place another layer of coffee-dipped ladyfingers on top, followed by the rest of the cheese mixture. Dust the top with cocoa powder and refrigerate 4 hr or overnight before gobbling it up. Remember, it’s nutritious!

 

Glenda Bartosh is an award-winning freelance writer who takes her tiramisù for breakfast.