Tiramisu and Authenticity

I tasted Tiramisu for the first time in the summer of 1996. I was in Boston on a business trip (and I remember the year because the summer olympics was underway in Atlanta). While I was visiting, a Boston native asked me if I had been to the beautiful North End of Boston – an historic area with a sizable Italian-American population and famous for the quality of the Italian food you can find there. He recommended his favorite restaurant and insisted that I try their Tiramisu for dessert (which I had never heard of).

Boston is a sprawling city – LOTS of great schools, lots of businesses, a great museum, theater, music, Fenway park, architecture, historical monuments, everything – you can feel an intoxicating smart-city buzz everywhere that comes from the energy of the city. And being my first visit to Boston, I had plans to avail myself of all the city’s buzz that I could find. So whoever this random stranger was, he must have made a very compelling argument for me to alter my plans and visit some neighborhood for pasta and a hitherto unknown dessert.

Even though the North End is, technically, a neighborhood IN Boston, when you drive into the North End you can feel the buzz of the big city fold-away behind you. I think it feels far-removed from Boston. The greater city disappears from your consciousness and it’s a strangely magical thing. A breezy Italian-American Brigadoon where conversations on the street and food replace song and dance (and yes, the permanent breeze from the waterfront is part of the identifiable character of the area). People walk a little slower and make more eye contact. You can hear a lot of people speaking in Italian (with an odd Boston accent!). And people decide where they want to eat by pausing in front of restaurants long enough to inhale.

I no longer remember the name of the restaurant that had been recommended but I can still remember the magnificent smell of tomato and olives that would stop anybody dead in their tracks. There was a formal dining area downstairs (below street level) – and food was prepared upstairs (street level) where there were several tables for informal dining – the only thing separating the food preparation area from the tables upstairs was a counter and so the cooking aromas filled the restaurant and spilled-out to trap passers-by every time someone opened the door.

When I think about the spaghetti alla puttanesca I ordered, I can still remember the texture of the hand-made pasta, the distinct individual tastes of olive oil, tomato, garlic, and capers, and my appreciation that the integrated dish as a whole was better than the sum of its delicious parts. It was the type of meal that I think of as “authentic” (meaning its preparation was consistent with tradition). It somehow spoke the language of the people who created it – it tasted of culture and history and passion.

And then there was the Tiramisu. A huge layered slice of heaven. A dessert unlike any dessert I had ever eaten. An Italian dessert? Why is this not a thing everywhere? I went back to that same restaurant the next day and then again when I was visiting Boston a couple years later. I went back for the Tiramisu.

It was a few more years before I saw Tiramisu on a menu outside of the North End – and, of course, I ordered it. And that Tiramisu was nasty. Nasty looking and nasty tasting – just plain bad. As was the next Tiramisu (what…..a Tiramisu parfait?). And the one after that. And the one after that. Until I stopped ordering Tiramisu altogether.

But I never forgot that first Tiramisu from nearly 20 years ago. So around Thanksgiving of this last year, I decided I wanted to try and recreate the magic. I wanted my friends and family to understand what they were missing – missing in so many restaurants that have turned this magnificent dessert into trash.

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When we speak of authenticity, it can refer to something being of unquestionable origin. Famous signatures and discovered works or art are authenticated prior to auction and we speak of their authenticity; recipes can be authentic too. Authenticity can also refer to a process that faithfully reproduces a traditional means to an end. Artisans can create furniture or period musical instruments using traditional materials, tools, and methods; recipes can be prepared authentically.

When speaking of food, I would posit that an authentic recipe can be made non-authentically and that a non-authentic recipe can be made authentically – that the origin and the process are not necessarily bound by that word. But I think my spaghetti alla puttanesca was doubly authentic – and what a delightful thing, indeed, when that happens!

But what about the Tiramisu? After doing some research on this dessert, I am not convinced that there exists an undisputed historical recipe for Tiramisu. For Tiramisu, I don’t know how to recognize authenticity, though I’m tempted to believe that my Boston dessert was the real thing. And it was my experiences with the dessert there that had given me my creative goal – but even though I was able to develop a dessert that looks and tastes like that amazing Tiramisu I remember, I don’t think it would be honest to label my results as “authentic.”

I have applied my resources and talents, to the best of my ability, to reproduce the single best dessert I have ever tasted in a restaurant – so I’d like to think that my process is authentic – but let’s be honest…I’m neither Italian nor Italian-American nor an expert in the ways of Italian pastry chefs. So instead of claiming authenticity, I’d rather call what I have going on here a “loving hommage” – a thoughtful recipe to celebrate the memory of that first Tiramisu I tasted.

But don’t get me wrong – the dessert I describe below still has the power to make people get quiet when they take their first bite, OK. Taste the magic!

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So let’s get started here.

Tiramisu means “a pick-me-up” – many people believe that moniker is based on the espresso in the dessert, but I think it is fitting as a broader description of the refreshment that comes from the strong, distinct flavors and textures in the dessert. The name has a beautiful old-world sound to my non-Italian ears but the dessert, apparently, only dates back to the 1960’s (or 1970’s or 1980’s – depends on who you look to for the history). If you would like to read more about the history of Tiramisu, check out this brief summary from Delallo or the Wikipedia page for the dessert.

On paper, Tiramisu sounds like a horrible idea: soggy bland cookies soaked in boozy coffee – layered with a mildly sweet uncooked Italian cream cheese filling-y/custard-y thing – with some unsweetened cocoa on top. What? But the bitterness of the espresso coffee and the unsweetened cocoa together with the kick from the booze complement the rich cream cheese mixture beautifully – each bite is complex and deeply satisfying.

And Tiramisu is relative easy to make – a little fussy, but not fussy in a difficult way.

But Tiramisu is VERY expensive to make. Even when you can buy the ingredients in bulk, the cost of making Tiramisu is significantly higher than any other dessert I have ever made. Back in the mid-1990’s when I ordered Tiramisu for the first time, my little chunk of heaven cost $6.00. I think restaurants like the idea of Tiramisu but tend to cut corners to reduce the expense – unfortunately, Tiramisu does not suffer substitutions well. With Tiramisu, you have to go big or go home.

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Tiramisu as a whole is very much the elegant sum of specific parts. And before I jump to the recipe, I think it would be wise to examine some of the parts and concepts in greater detail.

(1) Mascarpone Cheese – an Italian Cream Cheese

Mascarpone Cheese is the heavy-hitter here – my recipe requires 2 pounds of it. Mascarpone is less firm than American cream cheese and is less tart. It has a mild taste and the texture makes it a very attractive choice for creamy desserts. It is typically sold in 8 ounce or 16 ounce tubs and can be a little pricey. Notice that even the tubs advertise that this Mascarpone Cheese is “For Tiramisu and More!” There isn’t an exclamation point on the tub, but I think it is implied. Most larger grocery stores sell Mascarpone Cheese.

Every tub of Mascarpone Cheese I have ever seen includes a recipe for Tiramisu on the back – the recipes are all about the same. My recipe below differs in several ways from this advertised recipe: I don’t use whipped egg whites to stiffen the sweetened mascarpone custard, I prefer rum to brandy/cognac, I add rum to the cookie-soaking coffee that forms the crust of my Tiramisu, and I use much less sweetener.

(2) Savoiardi Ladyfinger Cookies/Biscuits

A staple of Italian pastry chefs. These cookies (or biscuits) are dry and brittle and barely sweet. But they absorb flavors brilliantly and absorb moisture to form a perfect spongecake-like crust for desserts. Another popular dessert item typically made with these cookies for a crust is the Charlotte Russe (a cake originally developed by French chef Marie-Antoine Carême). I have always heard them referred to simply as “Ladyfingers” but all the packages I have ever seen include the “Savoiardi” part as well. They are usually sold in 3.5 ounce or 7 ounce packages – I have only seen them in one grocery story locally where they were very pricey – I opted to buy a case from a local restaurant supply store. On the packages I have, the words are printed over the boot of Italy to drive-home their provenance. Professional pastry chefs probably make their own ladyfingers in-house.

I think the cookies are bland, but I cannot deny how wonderfully they transform in the service of this dessert. Also, any lady’s fingers these might represent would have been VERY fat fingers.

(3) Espresso

You need a lot of strong coffee (and some liquor) for soaking the ladyfingers. Professional restaurants and pastry chefs can usually produce quality espresso on-demand. I follow the route of many other approaches to Tiramisu: I use strong coffee supplemented by instant espresso powder. I have found that I can get a more authentic espresso bite in my Tiramisu if I brush-on some real espresso once the ladyfinger cookies have been soaked and placed.

(4) Unsweetened Cocoa Powder

Go with the best quality alkalized cocoa powder you can get your hands on. I prefer Callebaut (high fat) cocoa powder and have a ton of that on-hand (also from the restaurant supply store). You should use whatever you can find that is good quality.

Note – When I ate Tiramisu for the first time, it was garnished at the table with bittersweet chocolate shavings – they grated it onto my dessert plate using a rotary grater like some restaurants use to grate cheese onto your pasta. It was a nice addition to the taste and to the presentation. If you choose to add this nicety to your Tiramisu, be sure to use the best quality bittersweet chocolate you can find. Don’t skimp on anything here.

(5) Liquor

From what I gather, the original recipes for Tiramisu weren’t boozy – I don’t know when that changed – but the one I was trying to recreate most definitely contained liquor. Some classical recipes for Tiramisu include Marsala wine (I didn’t even try that – it didn’t sound appealing or consistent with the flavors I remembered). If you look at the recipe on the back of the mascarpone cheese tub above, you’ll see they recommend using cognac or brandy. I tried that in a small portion of my initial batch of filling and wasn’t moved. I prefer the boozy-sweet taste of dark rum. And rather than thinning-out the filling with a ton of rum, I include some rum with the coffee soaking mix for the ladyfingers and I include some more rum in the mascarpone filling mix. Ultimately I was looking for a balance between the chocolate, the espresso, and the liquor – and rum seemed to provide the right taste for that balance and it served as the best reminder of that original taste I was aiming to recreate.

(6) Heavy Whipping Cream

Probably not authentic. The filling for Tiramisu is made from a sweetened egg yolk and mascarpone mixture. I found out that the richness I desired came from using more egg yolks which, in turn, made the filling more dense than I liked (it was more like a pudding or a bavarian cream). By adding a bit of whipped cream to the filling, I was able to reduce the density while maintaining the richness and the luxurious mouthfeel I was looking for. The recipe on the back of the mascarpone cheese tub uses a mixture that is further stiffened by whipped egg whites which I did not like at all. I have the feeling that my whipping cream addition would be considered non-traditional (but, for what it’s worth, using egg whites isn’t traditional either) – again I was using the whipping cream as a means to an end where the end was a memory.

(7) Honey

Definitely not authentic. When I was trying to get the sweetness just right in the mascarpone filling, I found that using a bit of honey added a little extra complexity to the finished dessert. I haven’t seen any recipes that use honey – it definitely is not a required ingredient but I liked what it brought to the party.

(8) Layers

My initial Tiramisu was a tall doubly layered dessert – the layers of soaked ladyfingers / thickened sweet mascarpone / cocoa powder were repeated – so that’s how I approach my own Tiramisu. But this is another way in which this dessert becomes expensive to make – twice as high means twice as costly. But once you taste it, it’s hard to settle for anything less than perfect.

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So, let’s get to the recipe:

Ingredients:

For the “Crust”:

Strong Black Coffee – 3 Cups (room temperature)
Instant Espresso Powder – 2 Tbsp.
Dark Rum – 1/3 Cup
Ladyfinger Cookies – 14 oz.
Good Quality Espresso – 3 shots (optional)

For the Filling:

Large Egg Yolks – 10-12 – preferably pasteurized or heat treated (see previous post here)
White Granulated Sugar – 2/3 Cup
Good Quality Honey – 1/4 Cup (optional*)
Kosher Salt – 1/2 tsp.
Dark Rum – 1/3 Cup
Mascarpone Cheese – 2 lb.
Heavy Whipping Cream – 2/3 Cup

*If you choose to omit the honey, add an additional 1/4 cup of sugar.

Also:

Good Quality Unsweetened Alkalized Cocoa Powder – about 1/4 cup
Butter for Greasing your Baking Dish

Directions:

(1) Lightly coat a 9″ x 13″ x 2″ glass baking dish with butter to prevent the dessert from sticking.

(2) Combine the black coffee, espresso powder, and rum (for the crust) in a small bowl and set aside.

(3) Combine the egg yolks, sugar, honey, and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Whisk the mixture on medium-high speed until it lightens in color (to pale yellow) and thickens to the consistency of a loose pudding – 2 or 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula. Add the rum (for the filling) and continue to whisk until the rum is fully incorporated into the mixture. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula. Then add the mascarpone cheese, all at once, and whisk the mixture until it is uniform and smooth – another 2 or 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula and whisk the mixture for 20-30 additional seconds.

(4) Transfer the yolk-and-mascarpone mixture to a large mixing bowl and set aside. Rinse-out the bowl for the stand mixer and dry (no need to clean the whisk attachment). Pour the (cold) whipping cream into the empty bowl of the stand mixer and whisk at medium-high speed until stiff peaks form. Shake-off any whipped cream from the whisk into the bowl and remove the bowl from the stand mixer.

(5) To combine the whipped cream with the yolk-and-mascarpone mixture, transfer about 1/3 of the whipped cream into the bowl with the mixture and gently fold it in using a spatula. After the initial transfer of cream has been fully integrated, transfer the remaining whipped cream into the mixture and fold it in gently with the spatula. The resulting mixture should be smooth with no streaks of white from the whipped cream.

(6) Assemble the dessert as follows. Build a crust base by taking individual ladyfinger cookies, one at a time, and submerging them BRIEFLY in the coffee mix – each cookie should be submerged for a couple seconds at most – lay all of the cookies in the same direction as you fill the bottom of the baking dish in a single layer – one layer should utilize almost half of the cookies – since the coffee-moistened cookies are no longer crisp, you can press cookies into the edges to insure that you get an even and full layer on the bottom of your dish. See illustrations below. For an additional espresso “bite” you can use a pastry brush to brush-on some quality espresso on the tops of the placed cookies. Cover your layer of coffee-soaked cookies with half of your yolk-and-mascarpone-and-cream mixture. Top that layer with a dusting of unsweetened cocoa powder (enough so that you can’t see the mascarpone mixture below it) – spoon some cocoa into a small-screened strainer and shake the powder over your dish (this helps control the flow of the cocoa and prevents large lumps from defacing your dessert). Repeat this same process for a second layer – just make sure you orient your soaked ladyfingers perpendicular to the direction in the first layer.

(7) Clean-off the edges of your baking dish with a paper towel then carefully cover your dessert with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 6 hours to help firm-up the layers for easy slicing. To serve the dessert, slice with a sharp knife and remove with a thin, flexible spatula – wipe-off the knife between each cut.

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As I mentioned in the introduction above, this recipe isn’t so much difficult as it is fussy. It all boils down to having several things ready so that you can construct the dessert. Once the components are ready, it only takes a few minutes to construct a Tiramisu. Unfortunately, it needs time to chill before it can be served.

Start by coating a 9″ x 13″ x 2″ glass baking dish with butter to prevent the dessert from sticking.

Combine the black coffee, espresso powder, and rum (for the crust) in a small bowl and set aside.

Combine the egg yolks, sugar, honey, and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment.

Whisk the mixture on medium-high speed until it lightens in color (to pale yellow) and thickens to the consistency of a loose pudding – 2 or 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula.

Add the rum (for the filling) and continue to whisk until the rum is fully incorporated into the mixture.

Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula.

Then add the mascarpone cheese, all at once, and whisk the mixture until it is uniform and smooth – another 2 or 3 minutes.

Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula and whisk the mixture for 20-30 additional seconds.

Transfer the yolk-and-mascarpone mixture to a large mixing bowl and set aside.

Rinse-out the bowl for the stand mixer and dry (no need to clean the whisk attachment).

Pour the (cold) whipping cream into the empty bowl of the stand mixer and whisk at medium-high speed until stiff peaks form. Shake-off any whipped cream from the whisk into the bowl and remove the bowl from the stand mixer.

To combine the whipped cream with the yolk-and-mascarpone mixture, transfer about 1/3 of the whipped cream into the bowl with the mixture and gently fold it in using a spatula.

After the initial transfer of cream has been fully integrated, transfer the remaining whipped cream into the mixture and fold it in gently with the spatula. The resulting mixture should be smooth with no streaks of white from the whipped cream.

Build a crust base by taking individual ladyfinger cookies and submerging them BRIEFLY in the coffee mix – one cookie at a time – each cookie should be submerged for a couple seconds at most.

The cookies should not be soaked through to the center – this is a cross section from a properly soaked ladyfinger. If they are soaked too long then the crust will be a soggy mess.

Lay all of the cookies in the same direction as you fill the bottom of the baking dish in a single layer – one layer should utilize almost half of the cookies – since the coffee-moistened cookies are no longer crisp, you can press cookies into the edges to insure that you get an even and full layer on the bottom of your dish.

For an additional espresso “bite” you can use a pastry brush to brush-on some quality espresso on the tops of the placed cookies. The picture here is from the second layer of soaked ladyfingers – but you get the idea.

Cover your layer of coffee-soaked cookies with half of your yolk-and-mascarpone-and-cream mixture.

Top that layer with a dusting of unsweetened cocoa powder (enough so that you can’t see the mascarpone mixture below it) – spoon some cocoa into a small-screened strainer and shake the powder over your dish (this helps control the flow of the cocoa and prevents large lumps from defacing your dessert).

Repeat this same process for a second layer – just make sure you orient your soaked ladyfingers perpendicular to the direction in the first layer.

Clean-off the edges of your baking dish with a paper towel then carefully cover your dessert with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 6 hours to help firm-up the layers for easy slicing. To serve the dessert, slice with a sharp knife and remove with a thin, flexible spatula – wipe-off the knife between each cut.