Get me a damn fine example of tiramisu, dammit! That's the idea.
The story so far: I had an atypical slice of tiramisu from Whole Foods: not much soakiness to speak of, no whipped creamish parts but a nummy buttery frosting; then I had a delicious if cartoonish version from Trader Joe's freezer section: a thin chocolate cake layer sponging up coffee goodness, then an obscene layer of creaminess, then a choke hazard of chocolate powder on top.
Enough of these national chains - let's get local. Gayle's Rotisseria in Capitola will sell you a tiramisu cake for like $32. Woah, okay, I'll have just a slice, how bout, thanks for the change. Now we're in multi-layer territory. The over-all effect is something fairly light in texture, up to the lightest sprinkling of choco powder on top. Pretty? You'll never know, I ate it before I thought to take a picture. Screw you, this isn't one of those shallow depth-of-field sensitive lighting photo-filled ladies-who-lunch vanity blogs. It is some other kind of blog. (That's telling 'em.)
Can we focus on the cake at hand, please? Gayle's tiramisu has a nice balance of white cake, whipped cream, and DAYAM that is some proofy coffee juice!!! I guess that's Kahlua? You guys, I think the coffeeness in tiramisu is supposed to be some sort of coffee liquor. Alert the media!
Anyway, nice balance of the elements, Gayle's. It goes cream, boozy coffee shloop, cake. Cream, coffee shloop, cake. Cream, coffee shloop, cake - in even layers, with the shloopdeshloo kind of hiding out, not looking that obtrusive... But maybe not for alcoholics? Watch out, alcoholics. Booze! You wouldn't think it packs such a punch, since it's not dripping or off-gassing or anything.
This quest is leading to more questions. Like this one: Uh, what is a classic tiramisu *supposed* to be like? Next time: I'll find out. Journalism!
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