Last night, Raphaël came over, and made saumon en croûte with salade de pousses, sauce citron and a very mustardy vinaigrette. Salaisons italiennes to wake our appetites whilst the fish was in the oven. And a bottle of Chilean Chardonnay (Sunrise). My contribution was a tiramisu—the classic Italian pick-me-up.
“Listen,” Raph said at one point, “instead of all this philosophical whatnot that you write, why don’t you just tell your readers how to make tiramisu?”
And, because I had no ready answer to put down his offhand dismissal of my philosophy (he called my dessert tirami-sans philosophie), here it is:
How to make tiramisu
A good tiramisu doesn’t hang around long enough to be photographed.
First, having tied myself in knots over American cups recently (as a result of which I ended up putting a pound and a half of extra flour in my molasses cookies), I can tell you: there is no measuring here. You need:
A packet of lady’s fingers (boudoirs)
Some mascarpone (a distant relative of Al Capone). A 250 ml tub, or a 500 ml tub, or two 250 ml tubs. Don’t buy the expensive stuff (over 5 euros for half a kilo—are they kidding?), buy the cheap, white label stuff—it’s all from the same factory, I promise you.
Two eggs (three for 500 ml of mascarpone)
A flan dish, square-ish (because the lady’s fingers are square-ish—there will always be one you need to break in two).
Booze: brandy, sherry, crème de cacao, blue Curaçao, anything sweet, sickly and that makes you a bit tipsy (but not pale ale).
Coffee. If you’re European, that’s all you need to know. If you’re American: PROPER coffee, like coffee you can taste without wondering whether it’s actually Earl Gray tea. So, not Folger’s.
Cream. Double cream, or 40 per cent matière grasse.
Sugar: two tablespoons, or dessertspoons or teaspoons, depending on whether you’ve given up on your diet or not. Brown, white, cubes, doesn’t matter. I suppose you can use sweetener substitute but, honestly, if you do, you shouldn’t be making this.
A whisk and bowl, or a Kenwood (not hi-fi speakers). Not a blender—unless you plan making butter.
Open the packet of boudoirs and sort the waste appropriately: paper in paper and plastic in plastic. If you don’t do this, the recipe won’t work, because I will put my curse on you.
Lay the boudoirs out in the flan dish so as to cover it, go to two layers if you fancy.
Make the coffee. I use Nescafé Gold Blend or Aldi’s own brand instant coffee, on the strong side. A mug, with boiling water, no milk. Don’t drink it—even if you are thirsty. Pour it over the boudoirs. (Don’t sneak one into your mouth!—they’re not actually that good as a biscuit.)
Drizzle your booze over the wet boudoirs. Do all this BEFORE you get going with your bain marie.
I know I didn’t say anything about a bain marie, but it’s not rocket science. A small saucepan with an inch of water in the bottom. Put it on the hob with a Pyrex or metal bowl inserted into it (a balti dish, or the bowl from the Kenwood is also good). The bowl must sit within the pan, without descending the whole way to the bottom. No, I’m not going to draw you a picture.
Separate the eggs, and keep the whites in order to make a Silver Cake (I’ll give you the recipe next week) or meringues. Or drink them for breakfast if you’re a hawt dude. It’s the yolks we want here.
Yolks in bowl, plus sugar, mix with spirtle. I’m Scottish, so its a spirtle, but you probably call it a wooden spoon.
Light the hob under your bain marie and gradually stir in the mascarpone, until it gets to an easy, fluid state. You have just made custard. Now, some people don’t bother with the bain marie and do this cold. That involves a slight risk with eggy diseases like listeria, and the heating makes it easier to pour, so I heat. Up to you.
Now, pour your custard over the biscuits in the flan dish, making sure there are no gaps (use a bendy spatula), cover with cling film and leave to cool, maybe even outside.
Pour your carton or bottle or whatever of cream (about 200-250 ml, or 400 ml if you want to push the capacity of the flan dish to its limits, as well as your waistline) into your whisking bowl and whisk it or put it in the Kenwood and slowly whisk till it peaks. Don’t make butter.
Once the custard has set, spatula the thick cream over the boudoirs in the cooled flan dish and then sprinkle with cocoa (use a saupoudreuse or perforated spoon). Into the fridge to chill.
I took someone a prepared tiramisu from Aldi once, and Aldi pattern the top of theirs with a grid and forked puncture holes to make it look pretty. I wouldn’t bother, to be honest, especially since this (erstwhile) friend served this Aldi tiramisu up in a shot glass: one one-inch square section of the dessert in a blooming shot glass! I say: dig in and enjoy it—you made it!
Most important: serve with good company. Ottimo!