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 I think of the foods that truly symbolize growing up on Long Island, one of them has to be the humble corn muffin. Bagel shop (or, as we call it, “bagel place”) and deli culture is something we Long Islanders take very seriously. Both establishments require great bagels, buttered kaiser rolls, bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches, thin chicken cutlets, massive slabs of crumb cake, overly sweetened iced tea lemonades (we call them half and halfs), and cakey corn muffins. No matter what you’re ordering, you always ask for the side-car corn muffin, which is cut in half, buttered, and toasted on the griddle. You’ll be handed a grease-stained brown paper bag with a massive, yellow corn muffin inside, with a quarter pound of softened margarine plopped in the center. The muffin is somehow moist yet dry. And most of the time only half of it ends up in your mouth because it shatters into a million bits on your lap. (I still think my parents are cleaning crumbs out of their cars from decades ago LOL.) Despite the mess, they are a sweet and savory staple and something I will forever crave. When creating this recipe, I wanted all the flavors of corn muffins past—but with a slightly less crumbly texture for an even more enjoyable eating experience.
Inspired by the iconic Oreo, these sandwich cookies combine cocoa powder, peppermint extract, and crushed candy canes for some festive winter flavor. This is a cut-out cookie, and you’ll notice the rolling method is like that used for Soft Sugar Cookies. For the chocolate version, use cocoa powder instead of flour to dust your surface and rolling pin, so that the sticky dough stays dark and workable.
This cake is the epitome of summer: it’s sticky, jammy, fresh, and not too sweet. The browned butter and ground almonds give it a beautiful nuttiness, and it’s just dreamy with a dollop of crème fraîche on top, on a warm summer’s day.
I love coconut everything, but didn’t know I needed coconut cake in my life—that is, until I tried the perfection that the pastry team at Stissing House in Pine Plains, New York, has achieved. Since that first bite, I’ve been on a quest to eat all the coconut cake possible and in the process realized that it is the perfect “plain” cake. In my recipe, a moist plain cake is poked with holes which allows all the liquid coconut to soak inside. It’s light, rich, clean and spiced all at the same time. Serve it alone or with vanilla ice cream. Delicacy!
I am 10,000 percent convinced that this recipe will the breakout star of this book. In India I had tender coconut ice cream from Naturals, a famous Indian ice cream franchise, and I will never be the same. It had chunks of soft tender coconut in it that gave it a rich texture. The tender coconut filling requires a bit of work since it's made with fresh young coconuts, but it's necessary to get that fresh tender coconut flavor! You can usually find young coconuts at the grocery store in the fresh produce section. This recipe ended up being my husband Rhut's favorite, and I've made it no less than fifteen times in the last few months!
I decorated the pie with colored shredded coconut to mimic the sunset over the salt flats and mountains at Kalo Dungar, in Kutch Gujarat. I highly recommend using Thai Kitchen's full-fat coconut milk in a carton instead of canned coconut milk, as it has a fresher taste and does not contain any thickeners or preservatives.
Hanukkah is a fine time to serve these at brunch with a dollop of Greek yogurt or sour cream on top. I am constantly amazed at just how far Jewish food travels: when I was working on the update for this book, my daughter Daniela told me that a relative of her Chilean friend posted a recipe online for apple latkes. When I contacted her, I realized it was a Polish recipe. Shortly afterward, Daniela, on a train going through Poland, tasted a similar apple pancake. You can also substitute stone fruits, like apricots, plums, or peaches—in the late spring, at Shavuot, or anytime.
A Basque cheesecake is traditionally served crustless and with no berry adornments, but I promise you’re going to fall in love with this rebellious version. I layer it with a cookie crust; I really like the spice in the Speculoos (Biscoff-ish) cookie and bright berries, which just make the mahogany top and lusciously smooth texture sing. You’ll notice the ingredients— like the cream cheese— are cold rather than at room temperature, so it won’t overbake in the hot oven as the top browns.
The first stop on my coffee cart treat quest (second stop, Raspberry Mazurkas, page 108) is the elusive Pink Cookie. Uncle Seth’s Pink Cookies are palm- size cookies scented with cardamom and topped with a pink- tinted cream cheese and almond frosting. Here, I’ve made them into a pat- in- the pan cookie bar with a layer of perfectly pink cream cheese frosting scented with a bit of almond extract.