L'Italo-Americano

THURS DAY,   JANUARY  17,   2013 Dear Readers, January (Gennaio) the symbolic month of fresh starts is also the month when we could use a little pick-me-up after the happy hustle of the holidays, therefore I thought I would recycle my "Tiramisù" column. As 2013 begins, my little corner of the world, the "Italian Connection" column (since Fall 1977) has been comfortably ensconced in the pages of L'Italo-Americano for nearly thirty-six years (prior to the merger of L'Italo-Americano with L'Eco d'Italia in January 1980 my column was aka News from Northern California). Through the years, I have spotlighted subjects from A to Z (Alberobello to Zabaglione) but the column that has generated the most mail and reprint requests since it first appeared, Sept. 27, 1992, was my column on "Tiramisù", which was prompted by a letter from a Reader who asked: Dear Italian Connection: What exactly is this "tiramisù" dessert I've been finding on restaurant menus lately? Where did it originate? I've looked in a dozen Italian cookbooks, and it is nowhere to be found. M.R. Cara M.R.: I know all about "Tiramisù" because several years ago, I had the pleasure of meeting longtime L'ItaloAmericano editor Mario Trecco's sister Idelma and her husband Vittorio Tortella in San Francisco. They told me that they owned a pastry shop and bar in Pescatina (Verona). Tiramisù  was inspired by a tired customer and a pastry baker and his wife in Treviso (Venice) simply doing their best to provide good old-fashioned customer service.
 I asked Idelma what was the "specialty of the house", so to speak, and she said: 'Tiramisù'.
 As I wanted to know what it was, she told me that Vittorio, her husband, who is the pasticciere (pastry baker) of the house, knew the whole, true story. And he began: "The first Tiramisù was made quite by accident. "A group of businessmen concluded a long day of having a dinner in the restaurant of Hotel Carletto in Treviso, some 20 miles north of Venice. I knew the chef of that restaurant; he was also a good pastry baker. At the end of the dinner, the group of men asked the chef, 'Now we need a nice dessert to pick us up!' (the Italian words used were per L'Italo-Americano tirarci sù). "The chef did not have any ready made dessert, but he said, 'I'll prepare something for you in no time!'
 "He put together some mascarpone (a kind of Italian butter-like ricotta), yolk of eggs and sugar; he inserted some savoiardi cookies (Lady Fingers) soaked in coffee-liquor of low alcoholic content, and he served it in a cup, after spraying some whipped cream on top, together with a sprinkle of cocoa powder. "Before long, this tasty treat, "Tiramisù, was being duplicated all over Italy." American food editors who had visited Venice were excitedly telling their American readers about their latest Italian dessert discovery, Tiramisù, and describing it as a "simple-to-make luxurious Italian dessert, consisting to alternating layers of mascarpone cheese and Lady Fingers delicately soaked in espresso, with a hint of Marsala or liqueur." Upscale Italian restaurants from the Atlantic to the Pacific suddenly sprouted Tiramisù versions for their menus. Unfortunately, some efforts were more "let me down" than "pick me up".
 But practice makes perfect, and some local versions of Tiramisù are really quite good. The reason you cannot find a good Tiramisù recipe in most cookbooks is that it is not an old Italian specialty with a long her- PAGE  23 itage, but a relatively new one, inspired by a tired customer and a pastry baker and his wife in Treviso, who were simply doing their best to provide good oldfashioned customer service. Since you won't find it in older cookbooks, here is a recipe for Tiramisù that I cut off a package of Lady Finger biscuits. You can substitute soft cream cheese or ricotta for the mascarpone cheese if you cannot find it easily, but the quality will suffer. Add a little liqueur to this, if you like. Tiramisù
 (Makes 4 to 6 servings) 7 oz. champagne biscuits or lady fingers (savoiardi)
 7 oz. mascarpone (ricotta or cream cheese)
 2 eggs, separated
 2 oz. sugar 1 cup of espresso or very strong, black coffee Cocoa for dusting Separate the eggs; beat egg yolks and sugar together into smooth creamy consistency. Add the mascarpone cheese and fold in the stiffly beaten egg whites. Soak the Lady Fingers in the coffee. Line the bottom of an oblong mold or pan with half the Lady Fingers and spread over half the cream mixture.
 Cover the remaining Lady Fingers and rest of the cream mixture. Dust top with cocoa. Chill until served.
 I suggest you use a package of Matilde Vincenzi champagne Lady Finger biscuits imported from Giovanni Lupatoto, Verona, if you can find them. Since 1990, Tiramisù has hit the big time, even being demonstrated by Nick Stellino on Oprah's TV program in a lowcalorie version. I think they used egg whites and reduced whipping cream. I'll share the recipe with you when I find it. In the meantime, do your own thing. I like mine heavy on the soaked-withespresso Lady Fingers, and topped with ground chocolate chips, cocoa and coffee beans. *** January, looking back... January was not part of the early 10-month Roman calendar. January was said to have been added by the legendary King Numa Pompillius to honor Janus, the Latin deity of beginnings and ends.
 January 7, 1610, Galileo Galilei, Italian physicist, focusing his telescope on Jupiter discovers the four largest moons of that planet, lending further evidence against the dogma of an Earth-centered universe. January 14, 1858, Felice Orsini, an Italian patriot outraged over France's role in suppressing Italy's independence and unification, attempts to assassinate French Emperor Louis Napoleon by throwing a bomb at his carriage. Eight bystanders were killed, but Emperor Louie was unharmed. Orsini, sentenced to the guillotine, joined the growing list of martyrs for Italian freedom. *** there is another great botanical garden: The Orto Botanico dell'Università di Roma, "La Sapienza", was created from Renaissance papal gardens. It is a aged, refined place, occupying the gentle hill that leads up to the Janiculum, atop of which is a magnificent statue of Giuseppe Garibaldi on horseback. The Orto Botanico di Roma is entered from the Palazzo Orsini that was the royal residence area of Queen Christina of Sweden (1659-1687). She loved Italy and Trastevere. Walking slopes that lead up to fish ponds and an authentic Japanese garden where one can sit restfully and view the City of Rome with its Dome of St. Peter! The Orto trees surround large carefully tended lawns with benches to sit upon in the sweet Roman morning sun. As we sat, we heard the screeches of parrots, their colorful heads peaking out from the branches. Then, a few of them swept down onto the lawn to do battle royal with the cornacchie; sleek, black, elegant, Italian crows with silvergrey wing epaulets. AirMarshals. The battle was mediaeval in its gesturings and vocal assaults. The grounds-keeper informed us, with equally dramatic gesticulations, that the parrots are a resident colony of escapees from pet owners in Rome. Both the cornacchie and the parrots vie for claim of the lawns in territorial joust. Neither side draws blood. All is rather symbolic than serious. This sort of thing makes a botanical garden of a great city worthy of its name. Many botanic gardens I have visited have wonderful resident animal populations: such as parrots, alligators, iguanas, raccoons, lizards, snakes, tropical fish, and herons, all of which I have seen at Fairchild Tropical Garden in South Miami. Creatures are an integral part of the plant population. All of this is evidence that a botanical garden must be in existence for a very long time for various living creatures, mankind among them, to feel comfortable, at home. I do not think that the world can exist without gardens. Great Cities Create Vibrant Botanical Gardens FRANK LA ROSA Great and ancient cities have two important things or institutions in common: fine symphony orchestras and beautiful botanical gardens. Both symphonies and gardens are rooted in history, culture, and the rhythmic life of the cities from which they evolved. The Orto Botanico di Palermo was begun in 1779 as part of the University of Palermo. It was intended that the plant collection would include exotic, useful, and medicinal plants. Today the Orto di Palermo is immediately adjacent to the botany and medical schools of the University of Palermo. All botanical gardens have a special, individual feeling, and that of the Orto is created by its artifacts, plantings, and age. There is an ancient Arabic well that serves as the water-house for the entire garden. And, there are the worn ruins of a 16th century church ensconced by ferns, mosses, and time. The "Aquarium" is a circular 24 section pool of water lilies and other aquatic plants that is the watery home of sunning, yellow-eared water turtles, many of which have been "dumped" there by their former owners. The glass plant house contains tropicals, cacti, and succulents of many genera, and some are so rare that smiling guards are seated in the plant house to discourage taking plants home. It is all very Italian; the guards are pleasant, young university students who answer questions and chat with the visitants. One of these glass houses was built by Queen Maria Carolina of Austria. Goethe made his Italian journey and visited the Orto di Palermo. He said, that "We are all pilgrims who seek Italy". He strolled the paths among the "plant islands" and mused about his well known Urpflanze or primal plant which he concluded must be the universal, ancient plant form that all plants derive from in stem, leaf, and blossom. I think of Goethe and his Urpflanze every time I walk the very same paths. Is there such a trees, the director of the garden casually came out of his office, introduced himself to me and my wife, and kindly invited us for coffee over at the newly opened Orto café. We engaged in bottalk about the plantings, and parted with a warm arrivederci planning to meet again someday---a fine example of the Orto's wonderfully personal ambiance. Gardens are a kind of social enclosure, a "hortus conclusus", that bring similar people together. The giant Ficus at the garden's Orto Botanico dell'Università di Roma "La Sapienza". The garden was established on this site in 1883, although it is the successor to the Papal Botanical Gardens going back to the Renaissance. plant form—I think so. The Orto has been refurbished in the last few years. Its main building at the entrance, on Via Lincoln, is now a museum with well curated exhibitions of plants and insects. The cases of scarab beetles are quite impressive. Events of synchronicity always occur for us in botanical gardens. As we sat under the entrance is the signature image of the Orto di Palermo. It is ancient, and its huge, serpentine roots and festooned branches of hanging roots create a very green, tropical environment. I believe that this Ficus will grow at the Orto "in perpetua". I always greet it and say "ciao" when I am at the Orto. I love walking across the Tiber bridges to Trastevere where through Trastevere is a cultural delight in itself---old shops and verdant gardens. There is a warm leisure set apart from the "rock and roll" of downtown Rome. The Orto Botanico di Roma contains ferneries, bamboos of many varieties, over 300 medicinal plants, (the entire collection of plants is over 3000) and a fine garden of "old" roses on the

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