The glass counter, which stood as the focal point of the cafe, illuminated a bevvy of beautiful treats. Some were familiar friends - cheesecakes, iced cakes and the like. Others were ethnically apparent treats - cannolis, zeppoles and such. And then there was one item in the case that particularly called to us. Perhaps because it floated atop its plate like a mystical espresso-laden cloud. Or perhaps because its placement in the counter assured it the best source of lighting - it looked neither flat nor rigid, still moist but not soggy. Poetry in motion. Dicotomy and irony rolled up in between layers of marscapone and lady fingers. No matter. The dessert that we wanted was the tiramisu. And we scarfed it down with gentle delight.
At that moment in time, we would have sworn that it was the best thing we had ever eaten in our lives. And perhaps it was. Analyzing it now, however, it's hard to say whether or not the tiramisu we had that night was genuinely the best because it was the finest made or if it was the best because we were still floating on the high of our post-nuptual bliss. After all, we had just arrived in a wonderful, faraway land that we had only seen in books. We had been giddy, earlier that day, when our taxi drove past the Coliseum. We almost jumped in delight when our tour finally lead us to see the great Sistine Chapel. And when we had our first Italian dessert in a native cafe, we felt higher than the ninth cloud - almost ready to take orbit into another galaxy.
In our time since that blissful journey, I have tried several different recipes for tiramisu - a few were adequate, some were a waste of time, only one was truly great. With fading memories, my taste buds have since agreed that this tiramisu is just as good as the one from our sentimental voyage. Perhaps it is because I feel pride in cooking my own dessert. Or perhaps it is a reflection of the happiness that has overtaken my post-honeymoon life. No matter the reason. It is just darn good tiramisu - and, I'm happy to share this ecstasy with others!
Ingredients:
- 3 egg yolks
- 1/4 cup whole milk
- 1 cup grandulated sugar
- 3 cups mascarpone cheese (this is an Italian cream cheese)
- 8 ounces cream cheese
- 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 20 – 24 lady fingers
- 1/4 cup cold espresso
- 1/4 cup Kahlua coffee liqueur
- 2 teaspoons cocoa powder
- Fill a medium saucepan halfway with water and bring it to a boil over medium/high heat, then reduce heat so that the water is simmering. Whisk egg yolks, milk and sugar together in a medium metal bowl, then place the bowl on top of the saucepan (you can also use a double boiler for this step). Stir the mixture often for ten minutes. After the sugar dissolves the mixture should begin to thicken and turn light yellow. Remove it from the heat to cool.
- Use an electric mixer to combine mascarpone, cream cheese and vanilla in a large bowl. Mix until mostly creamy, but with a few small chunks remaining.
- Add egg yolk mixture to the cheese mixture and mix just until well-combined.
- Combine espresso and Kahlua in a small bowl. Pour this mixture onto a dinner plate. One-by-one touch the bottom of each lady finger in the espresso. The lady finger will quickly soak up the espresso/Kahlua mixture, but you don’t want the lady finger soaked — just a dab will do ya. The top half of each lady finger should still be dry. Arrange the soaked lady fingers side-by-side on the bottom of an 8×8-inch serving dish or baking pan.
- Spoon about half of the cheese mixture over the lady fingers, then add another layer of soaked lady fingers on top of the cheese mixture.
- Spoon the remaining cheese mixture over the second layer of lady fingers and spread it evenly.
- Put two teaspoons of cocoa powder in a tight-mesh strainer and gently tap the side of the strainer to add an even dusting of cocoa powder over the top of the dessert.
- Cover and chill for several hours. To serve, slice the dessert twice across and down creating even portions (the first serving is always the hardest to get out).