White chocolate, rum and raisin tiramisù
A completely delicious treat for the weekend. And what are your thoughts about ham and melon tiramisu?
Did you know that there’s an institution in Italy dedicated to tiramisu? I did not before I started researching this newsletter. The Academia del Tiramisù in Treviso, the magical capital of the Veneto region, exists to celebrate and perpetuate the dessert’s status as “a symbol of Italy’s gastronomic and cultural heritage and its positive values.”
Some of you might be under the misapprehension that the creamy, coffee-and-booze-spiked confection, irrefutably associated with dining out in the 1980s, is a dusty old relic of Italian cookery. That’s very much not the case. Proof of that pudding can be found in the Academia’s worldwide membership and annual Tiramisù World Cup (taking place in Treviso October 10 - 13 this year, so make a diary note). More than 240 tiramisu enthusiasts from around the globe have entered.
The competition comprises two categories: traditional and creative. The traditional recipe can include only the six foundation ingredients in basic tiramisu: ladyfingers, mascarpone, eggs (yolk is compulsory, egg white optional), coffee, cocoa powder and white sugar. For the creative section, a few other ingredients may be added, as a twist. Last year’s creative winner added quince jam and cinnamon, which sounds nice enough (you’ll find the recipe in the Academia’s Tiramisu Cookbook here.) I have my doubts about the Ham and Melon Tiramisu, which took the trophy in 2021, but I’m happy to be proved wrong if anyone gives it a go.
Anyway, a glance at the menus of chichi Italian restaurants in the UK provides further evidence that tiramisu is still very much on trend and widely worshipped. Brutto’s version is one glorious example, while Pastaio’s is a crowd pleaser, as is the Big Mamma Group’s beauty, served tableside from a gigantic dish. At Norma, the tiramisu offering is more elegant (and regularly changing - the menu at the moment features strawberry tiramisu with macerated strawbs and bitter dark chocolate. Sounds good to me.)
It has to be said, though, that tiramisu’s deliciousness very much depends on who makes it, and their interpretation. A few years back my husband and I celebrated our wedding anniversary with dinner at a famous Michelin-starred Italian restaurant in London. My tiramisu-devotee husband ordered it for dessert but bitter disappointment arrived in a cocktail glass: a bit of watery sponge literally floating in booze with a splodge of cream on top.
I wrote an email to the restuaurant telling them how disappointed we were, not only about Tiramisu-gate but a slew of other problems, which, for the astronomical price we paid, really wasn’t OK. The chef’s WIFE rang me to apologise, explaining that she had never really liked the version of tiramisu her husband served and had told him so, but he loved it. So what could she do?
Funnily enough, bickering sits at the very heart of tiramisu because its origins are disputed. The Academia says the dessert was invented by the ‘maitresse’ of a brothel in 1800 as an aphrodisiac or ‘pick me up’ for customers, many of whom were husbands who needed to return home to their wives with a degree of vigour left in them. Others say it was popularised in the eary 1970s by a restaurant in Treviso called Le Beccherie, but was actually invented in the 1950s. (Le Beccherie’s recipe can be found here - if you need to feed an army, the quantities specified will be right up your street.)
My recipe this week is, naturally, tiramisu - but with a few creative tweaks, of which I’m certain the Academia would approve. It’s incredibly rich and decadent, filled as it is with white-chocolate-enriched mascarpone cream. Raisins provide a little chewy texture and tart sweetness, while the hazelnuts add crunch and welcome savoury notes. I used rum for the booze, but marsala or brandy would be lovely, too. Also, I think tart dried cranberries would be a good swap for the raisins, as they’re much less sweet. However, my husband (and chief taster) would not for a moment countenance cranberries in his favourite dessert. Husbands and tiramisu, eh?