The Sweet Dream That Will Have You Begging for More

Sam: What is "tiramisu"?
Jay: You'll find out.
Sam: Well, what is it?
Jay: You'll see!
Sam: Some woman is gonna want me to do it to her and I'm not gonna know what it is!

Sleepless in Seattle

With a steadfast and impassioned following of worshipping women, it's no wonder that tiramisu ingeniously and lustfully found its way into the script of one of Hollywood's most beloved romantic comedies.

My curious taste buds were first aroused by this exquisite, classic Italian dessert at the neighbourhood Olive Garden restaurant during my days as a callow and impecunious student, when it wasn't uncommon for my mouth to water over a bowl of four-month-old, freezer-burned Chapman's ice cream. I glanced at the menu and wondered why a dessert that sounded like sushi was being served in an American-Italian restaurant chain alongside garlic bread and lasagna. Despite my bemusement, I ventured into the unknown and, after the first bite, asked myself how I could've missed out on something so good for so long.

Some time after, however, I learned that what I had was little more than an aberration of something truly extraordinary that I would experience only later in my confection-filled life and tiramisu went from satisfying to oh-my-god sublime. Since that fateful Olive Garden evening, I've exponentially refined my taste and even transported my tantalizing quest for the consummate tiramisu my Holy Grail of sweets across international borders.

Meaning pick me up in Italian for its sugar and espresso ingredients, tiramisu is a creamy, unbaked, cool cake of layers. Velvety mascarpone cheese is beaten with eggs, sugar, vanilla and (sometimes) whipped cream, then slathered on a moist bed of ladyfingers delicately and I mean oh so delicately soaked in espresso and liquor. Now, imagine another layer. The finishing: a cloud of cocoa powder lightly dusted on top. Its subtle sweetness and infusion of liquor don't overpower, but tease and dance in the mouth. When prepared with utmost care (god forbid should you forget to whisk the egg whites separately from the yolks) and only the finest ingredients, the result is an ethereal confection of sensual delight that renders your senses begging for more. When my life takes a diabolic, soul-crushing turn for the worse and I fall into the deepest, darkest hole of existential angst, one mouthful of tiramisu has the power to elucidate my reason for being once more and life becomes worth living again. It is that amazing.

Paradoxically, it is possible for something to be as sinful as it is heavenly by virtue of its pleasure-inducing properties. \Within seconds of it arriving at my table, I become a woman on a mission, forsake any concern about calories and indulge with reckless abandon. Tiramisu is an Italian dessert menu must-have. Period.

Be warned, however. Poorly prepared, inferior representations may lurk in your neighbourhood bakeries and restaurants. The ladyfingers could be over-soaked in liquor, creating a muddy and soggy foundation, drowning the other flavours and leaving you fumbling off your chair in a drunken stupor. Or the greatest sacrilege of all the essential ingredient of mascarpone cheese could be entirely omitted and substituted with whipped cream or ricotta cheese as a sordid, cost- or calorie-saving measure. When it comes to tiramisu, such a drastic (and disgraceful) shortcut will only seriously compromise its integrity. Respect the mascarpone.

But when it's good... god, is it good. Every tiramisu-loving woman has her preferred adaptation: on a plate or in a cup; heavy or light; with amaretto, rum or my preference marsala.

Over the years, I've witnessed an evolution of sophistication in tiramisu that has given birth to a myriad of variations even Darwin would salivate over: chocolate tiramisu, strawberry tiramisu, rhubarb tiramisu, almond tiramisu. The list goes on and on.

My favourite interpretation, by far, is an unlikely but brilliant cross-cultural creation inspired by the spirit of internationalism: green tea tiramisu, an Italy-meets-Japan concoction that marries the dessert's best ingredients with antioxidant-rich matcha green tea leaves ground to a powder (at least you can counter the overwhelming guilt of eating it by fighting cancer). It's like finding the path of Zen enlightenment in the lush, rolling hills of Tuscany.

Whether you're a die-hard purist or one for adventurous experimentation, there is a tiramisu waiting to awaken your taste buds, and when it does you'll join the legions of women who just can't get enough. I promise.

To claim your own little piece of heaven in your kitchen, visit www.heavenlytiramisu.com for a catalogue of virtually every recipe imaginable (and do remember to be selective).

And how will you know when you've found the one?

You'll just know.

By Helen Suk, Tiramisu-ologist

Click here for a Strawberry Tiramisu recipe in the WOMAN.ca/recipes section.

Helen Suk
		About the author:
		Helen Suk is a loyal resident of Toronto, where she was born and raised. She's an urbanite, culture-vulture, reader and photography enthusiast. After graduating with a BA from the University of Toronto, she spent two years in London, UK, became afflicted with the travel bug and, at this very moment, is likely scouring the internet and contemplating her next destination. Anyone who befriends Helen knows she'll find any excuse to indulge in her most cherished foods and is always on the prowl for her next favourite ethnic restaurant.
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