When the dessert moment occurs at an Italian restaurant, I’m usually torn between a silky panna cotta and the velvety, slightly boozy sweetness of tiramisu—though as a caffeine addict, I almost always opt for the latter. And now is as good a time as any to indulge in tiramisu, if only to honor the legacy of its supposed inventor, who died earlier this week—though the dish's actual origins are a lot more scandalous, and maybe even sexy.
Why not make yourself a single serving of the decadent dessert (I've provided a recipe below) to enjoy while you absorb all the sordid details?
Roberto Linguanotto , a chef who some have called the “father of tiramisu," died earlier this week. Linguanotto was a popular pastry chef at Le Beccherie in Treviso, Italy. According to The Washington Post, Linguanotto once credited himself for accidentally creating the recipe alongside the restaurant owner's wife sometime in the 1970s. (This isn’t the sexy scandal I was referring…but it could still be a sexy scandal.)
Linguanotto's claims to the contrary, like most baked goods and recipes, it’s tough to pinpoint who made tiramisu first. While we're lucky enough to have seen Golisdream make her mark on history with the crunchy Fruit Roll-Up wrapped ice cream stick, that’s not usually how documentation works. Recipes, especially dessert recipes, mature over time. Ingredients are swapped, bake times are tweaked, wine gets added, and then someone changes the name. So who really invented it? It's hard to say.
While Le Beccherie takes credit for serving the tiramisu in the '70s, chef Celeste Tonon claims that his mentor, Speranza Garatti, first made in the 1960s. She is said to have served it in a cup and called it coppa imperiale (you can read more about that here).
I do love my dessert with a drizzle of salted drama, so here’s a splash more: The Accademia del Tiramisu (a clear authority on the issue—it's a whole academy for goodness' sake!) indicates that long before the birth of the “father of tiramisu,” way back in the 1800s, there was a special woman. Some would call her a maitresse, a madame, or “la signora” of a house of pleasure. She was also a dessert hero.
This woman is nameless, which is unsurprising. And while that makes her difficult to research, it certainly does not mean her legend is false. As the story goes, she innovated the tiramisu to inspire sexy-time for the patrons of her brothel: Something sweet, with a little espresso for energy. If you’ve ever had a great tiramisu, you might be able to understand its powers as an aphrodisiac—especially if you didn’t down a half-pound of pasta beforehand.
Regardless of who first layered thick and fluffy cream with espresso-soaked sponge cookies, it’s a stellar combination of flavors, and a staple Italian dessert worldwide. You could celebrate tiramisu’s storied history with a traditional pan for you and your family—or just make a single serving of my cheater’s tiramisu using Snack Pack pudding cups.
Ingredients:
2 double shots espresso (4 ounces)
2 teaspoons marsala wine (or rum)
8 ounces heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon sugar
2 vanilla pudding cups (I used Snack Pack cups)
6 ounces mascarpone cheese
12 lady fingers
Cocoa powder to garnish
1. In a small, wide bowl, combine the espresso and marsala.
2. In a large bowl, whip the heavy cream and sugar to medium peaks. In a different large bowl, thoroughly mix together the snack packs and mascarpone cheese with a rubber spatula. Fold in the whipped cream.
3. Dip both sides of a lady finger cookie in the espresso mixture, break it in half, and place it in the bottom of a rocks glass, or another decorative serving cup. Repeat this in two other glasses. Add a scoop of the cream mixture to each glass. Repeat the layers until the glasses are full, ending with a scoop of the cream. Top with a dusting of cocoa powder. Let the tiramisu cups set in the fridge for at least 2 hours before serving.
Alternatively, you can build this as one single tiramisu in a standard loaf pan or small casserole dish.
