Tiramisu Cake

Tiramisu — what’s not to love? Layers of creamy mascarpone separated by shaved dark chocolate and ladyfingers dipped in coffee. One bite and I’m transported back to the canal-side cafés of Venice, watching colorful gondolas glide past as the flavors mingle on my tongue.

While tiramisu is the most iconic of Italian desserts, this national treasure has a hotly contested origin story. Not only does it have its own Academy of Tiramisu, dedicated to preserving the culture of this famous dessert, it was even recognized by the Italian government in 2017 as a prodotto agroalimentare tradizionale, an officially approved, traditional regional specialty of the Friuli Venezia Giulia region. But therein lies the controversy.

According to legend (and the Academy), tiramisu (The word is derived from the phrase Tireme su, meaning “pick-me-up,” in the Treviso dialect.) was invented around the turn of the 19^th century by the madam of a brothel, who served it to her clients as an aphrodisiac (thus the name!). As legends go, it’s got all the right elements, but in more academic circles, the dessert’s history is more mundane. 

It’s the tale of two restaurants, and it takes place in the much more recent past of the mid-20^th century. In Treviso, a town in the region of Veneto in the northeast part of Italy, the restaurant Le Beccherie added tiramisu to its menu in the early 1970s, staking claim to the title of tiramisu’s birthplace. However, across the border in the Friuli region, in the Alpine town of Tolmezzo, the chef and proprietress of the Albergo Roma hotel, Norma Pielli, produced a recipe dating from the 1950s for a dessert that her husband had christened tiramisu.

The Italian government seems to have sided with Sig.ra. Pielli, having officially tied tiramisu to the Friuli region, although Veneto officials have threatened legal action in retaliation.

We shall leave that dispute to the Italians, however, as we turn to Mary Berry’s version, which she dubs a “tiramisu cake.” It wouldn’t qualify as an authentic tiramisu, since hers uses a fatless sponge in lieu of ladyfingers, omits adding eggs to the mascarpone and includes a generous portion of brandy in the coffee mixture. But it’s just as creamy and decadent as the original and practically melts in your mouth.

This was the technical challenge put before the bakers in the Great White Tent for dessert week, and Mary was looking for precision, with even layers of sponge and cream separated by chocolate shavings, and each layer had to be soaked evenly with the coffee and brandy mixture.

For the sponge, I would recommend having all your ingredients measured out ahead of time, with the flour and baking powder sifted together and ready to sprinkle over the egg mixture as soon as it is beaten to ribbon stage. This will ensure that the eggs don’t lose any air while waiting for you to measure and sift the flour. (And yes, I may be speaking from experience here.) Then fold the flour in gently so the whole mixture will still be light and fluffy. Also, when transferring it to the prepared Swiss roll pan, pour it from a low height, just above the pan, to retain as much air as possible.

The other tricky part is cutting the sponge into even layers. After letting it cool completely, I suggest first cutting the cake into two squares by tracing around the bottom of your square cake pan. (Mary’s recipe calls for a 7-inch square tin, but I used a 6-inch tin and had enough ingredients left over to make a small trifle.) Then, using a long serrated knife, carefully cut horizontally through the middle of each square, so each piece is split into two thin layers. 

Line the square pan with two strips of parchment paper long enough that the ends hang over the sides. These will ultimately be your “handles” to lift the cake out of the pan before serving.

After mixing together the coffee, hot water and brandy; shaving the chocolate (I used a microplane zester); and whipping the mascarpone cheese with cream and powdered sugar, it’s time to assemble the cake.

Start by placing one cake layer, cut side up, in the bottom of the prepared tin. Brush it with a quarter of the coffee mixture, then spread on a quarter of the mascarpone cream. (I found that piping it on first made it easier to ensure that it was spread evenly.) Sprinkle that with a third of the shaved chocolate.

Repeat with another layer of cake, coffee, cream and chocolate two more times. You may want to press down gently on each cake layer before adding the coffee to make sure the cream layer underneath is even and there are no gaps. Finally, put in place the last layer of cake, coffee and cream, and chill for at least an hour. You can even keep it in the fridge overnight if you’re not serving it until the next day.

This will give you time to make the chocolate decorations for the top of the cake. Follow the directions in the recipe below for tempering the chocolate, or use the easier method demonstrated in this video. Pipe it into any shapes you want.

When you’re ready to serve the cake, pull it out of the pan with the ends of the parchment paper. (I will admit that having a loose-bottomed pan makes this step a lot easier.) Place it on a serving plate and slide the paper out from under it, using a metal spatula to lift it slightly if necessary. Sprinkle the cake with cocoa powder, and insert your chocolate decorations on top. 

Whether this dessert is truly an aphrodisiac or not, it definitely would make a romantic end to a special dinner. It’s rich and sumptuous and sure to impress that certain someone. That’s amore! 

You can find Mary’s recipe here, but I have adapted it for American bakers below. 

Next week: Baked Alaska