Egg Yolk

This giant crumbly cookie is a specialty of Mantua, in Lombardy. But I first tasted it at a cooking class at the home of a chef from Parma, in Emilia-Romagna, where it is also popular. This makes sense, as Parma is just about an hour south of Mantua, and popular cookies tend to travel beyond their place of origin.

Also known as torta sbrisolona, the name of this cookie roughly translates to “crumbly cake.” It comes from the verb sbricolare, which means “to crumble.” The cookie was once upon a time prepared by farmers using simple ingredients that they were likely to have on hand—flour, cornmeal, sugar, a little lard or butter, and almonds. It was eaten as a snack to revive them after a long morning of work.

When assembling your sbrisolona, resist patting the sandy dough into the pan too firmly. It needs to be loosely packed in order to yield that fall-apart texture that makes it so irresistible. Once baked, it is customary to break this cookie into irregular pieces for serving, though you can cut it with a knife for a neater presentation.

There will be no buttercream in this book. I find it persnickety and overly sweet. Layer cake is an act of balancing flavor—if the base is sugary, as most cakes are, the fillings should introduce tang. Fruit is great for this purpose, but in winter, when fresh berries seem like a distant memory, or I’m sick of citrus, I turn to dairy for an acidic punch: cream cheese, labneh, or sour cream. Rather than relying on my unsteady hand to level the cakes, I bake three layers individually. I use Natasha Pickowicz’s stress-free method for building cakes, constructing the layers in a deep, sturdy cake pan or pot so the layers remain stable. Together, the tender chocolate cake, coconut custard, and dark chocolate cream cheese frosting taste like heaven. The addition of coconut flakes on the exterior adds a pleasing crunch and hides any crumb coat missteps. This base recipe also works beautifully for a single layer cake; just divide the recipe in half and bake it in a 9-inch (23 cm) round cake pan.

When it comes to things as iconic as a Caesar salad, I typically like to keep it classic and work toward perfecting the technique. But that was before I was inspired to try some crisp, thinly sliced celery and smoky bacon–laced breadcrumbs to enhance the already perfect balance in a Caesar salad. And it truly does. There is something about that extra-fresh crunch from the celery and the way that the breadcrumbs coat the leaves and dressing (in lieu of the cumbersome crouton) that really takes a classic Caesar to another level.