On Our Menu
We first moved to Treviso fourteen years ago, and one thing seemed to be guaranteed wherever we ate: tiramisu.
It was always there. Creamy mascarpone, coffee-soaked biscuits, cocoa, chocolatey sweetness and just enough coffee to make you feel that perhaps dessert wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
At the time, we didn’t know much about tiramisu. We simply knew that it was everywhere.
The first person who really told us its story was our friend Mauro, who owns a tiny restaurant in the heart of Treviso called Ca’ d’Oro. It’s the sort of restaurant we love: small, intimate and unfussy. The menu doesn’t change very often, and when it does, it follows the seasons. But one thing you can usually count on is Mauro’s tiramisu made from his own closely guarded recipe.
Mauro told us a story about where tiramisu came from. According to the tale, it was something that women working nights would eat at the end of their shift a little boost after a long night. The name itself seemed to fit perfectly: tirami su, roughly translated as “pick me up.”
And really, when you think about what’s in it, the idea makes perfect sense.
Strong coffee. Sugar. Mascarpone. Egg. Sweet biscuits. It is almost breakfast. And in Italy, that isn’t such a strange thought. A sweet breakfast of biscuits and coffee is perfectly normal. So why not take those ingredients, layer them together, add a little cocoa, and call it dessert?
Whether Mauro’s story is the definitive history of tiramisu is another question. There are several stories about its origins, and the debate continues. But for us, his version will always be the first story we heard — and therefore the one that stuck.
Over the years, tiramisu seemed to grow arms and legs. We would return to Treviso with the children on holiday, and one of the first things we noticed was how seriously the city had embraced its famous dessert. At one point, there was a huge tent in the middle of town for the Tiramisu World Cup, with competitors making their versions of the dessert in the hope of becoming world champion.
Only in Italy could something as simple as coffee, biscuits and mascarpone become a serious competition. When we moved back a couple of years ago, we decided that perhaps it was time we learned to make tiramisu properly ourselves.
So we took a tiramisu cooking class in town. The class was held in a refurbished tiramisu shop, where you could find all sorts of variations — pistachio, chocolate, white chocolate and, of course, the traditional version. The Treviso Tiramisu
The recipe itself was remarkably simple.
The technique was anything but casual.
Our maestra was wonderfully strict about everything. How many ladyfingers went into each layer. Exactly how long they should be dipped into the coffee. How much mascarpone cream should go on top. She even showed us how to use a piping bag to create neat, even layers.
And then there was the coffee. Not a bath.A dip. Just a few seconds. Long enough for the biscuit to absorb the coffee, but not long enough for it to collapse. It was a small lesson in something that seems to happen repeatedly with Italian food: the ingredient list can be simple, but doing it properly takes practice.
There is another story about tiramisu that we came across later, and it is rather different.This is said to be the original place of the dessert Le Beccherie .
Also seen on Stanley Tuccis recent tour of Italy.
This version tells of a mother making tiramisu for her daughter after she had given birth, wanting to give her something nourishing and uplifting — another little tirami su, another way to pick her up when she needed it.
Again, it feels believable. Again, it is a story rather than something we can neatly prove. And perhaps that is part of the charm.
Today, tiramisu has become so deeply associated with Treviso that there are dedicated tiramisu cafés and shops, including places in the centre of the city connected to the long-running debate about its origins. There are tiramisu competitions, a Tiramisu World Cup, Tiramisu World Day and even a Tiramisu 10K.
And, inevitably, tiramisu socks.
Because apparently there is no point becoming world-famous unless someone can put your dessert on a pair of socks.
But for all the variations and all the attention, our favourite is still the traditional one. Egg yolks whisked with sugar. Mascarpone. A little cream, if you like. Strong, cold coffee. Ladyfingers. Cocoa dusted over the top just before serving. That’s it.
Two layers of coffee-soaked biscuits and mascarpone cream, left to rest so everything comes together. It’s simple, comforting and unmistakably Treviso. And every time we make it, we think back to that first conversation with Mauro fourteen years ago, when tiramisu was simply the dessert that was always on the menu.
Now we understand that it is much more than that. It is a little piece of Treviso’s food culture, wrapped up in coffee, mascarpone and cocoa.
And, whichever story you choose to believe, perhaps the name says everything you really need to know.
Tirami su.
Pick me up.
