Looking for an aphrodisiac that doubles as a delicious dessert? Consider tiramisu. While some histories trace this seductively decadent Italian treat to as recently as the late 1960s, the Accademia del Tiramisu dates it back to the early 1800s, where it was invented by an enterprising maitresse at a “house of pleasure” in Treviso.
The “Siora” who ran the premises developed it “to offer to customers at the end of the evening in order to reinvigorate them and solve the problems they may have had with their conjugal duties on their return to their wives,” the Accademia’s website states.
Disclaimer: Friday Food Fight neither endorses nor denies the aphrodisiac efficacy of tiramisu.
But we can state unequivocally that it’s damn scrumptious. For the uninitiated, tiramisu (“pick me up” in Italian) is a layered confection that includes ladyfinger pastries dipped in coffee and/or liqueur, with mascarpone and other yummy stuff.
Our two contestants are: Carrabba’s Italian Grille, with nine locations in the Tampa Bay area, and Bonu’ Taverna Italiana, with one location in downtown St. Pete.
CARRABBA’S ITALIAN GRILLE
We arrived at the Carrabba’s on 4th Street in St. Pete, adjacent to Sunken Gardens, just before 7 on Tuesday. As soon as we walked through the door, the host, Daijane, greeted us warmly, and earned bonus points by making a fuss over Bonnie’s sweater.
We sat at a large, cozy booth in the main dining room. Most of the tables were occupied, but the ambient noise was minimal. The expertly calibrated lighting gave the space a warm glow. After splitting an entree of Mezzaluna ($21.29), we ordered our Tiramisu ($10.99).
Appearance
Beautiful. A rectangular version with layers showing. This tiramisu was sprinkled with dark chocolate shavings, a straw made of dark chocolate perched on top, and squiggles of dark chocolate decorated on the plate. I really like dark chocolate.
Texture and Taste
The squishy middle layer of lady finger had just the right balance of subtle alcohol (courtesy of liqueur and rum) and espresso flavors. The Mascarpone — an Italian cream cheese — was heavenly, with a pudding-like consistency that I really took to. The bites blended together into silky pleasures — sweet but not cloying, and lighter than expected.
The chocolate shavings added welcome moments of delicate crunch. The tiramisu didn’t last long. “I like this,” I said, to which Bonnie replied, “What’s not to like?”
BONU’ TAVERNA ITALIANA
Bonu’ was banging on Thursday at 6:30. The dining room was maxed and the sidewalk tables were starting to fill up. We scored a high-top across from the bar, right by the door.
It was our first visit to this highly regarded restaurant on Central Avenue that’s been open nearly three years. With its white walls and large windows, Bonu’ lets in plenty of natural light. We immediately dug the energy.
As a preamble to Dolce Tiramisu ($9), we ordered a Vegano Pinsa ($20), a type of pizza (more on this later). When Colby — our impeccable server — asked if we wanted to add cheese (mozzarella, $4), I couldn’t suppress a chuckle. He smiled. And waited. “Sure,” I said, with a grin. “Put some cheese on the pizza.”
Appearance
This version came in a round cup, with the layers only slightly visible. A mint leaf sat handsomely atop a dusting of chocolate. The tiramisu’s appearance my have been a slight letdown after the pinsa’s color burst.
Texture and Taste
This tirmasu was less sweet than the competition’s, which provided an agreeable contrast. It was also less formed into layers, and spooning it out of the cup didn’t provide much contrast in flavor or texture. I could detect a hint of coffee, but no liqueur. The chocolate flavor was minimal. This desert went fast.
Every now and then, we’ll come across a supporting act that upstages the headliner. That was certainly the case with Bonu’. This pinsa delivered the “wow.”
I usually maintain that pizza crust is a waste of stomach space, but not here. The bread was the main attraction, even though the melange of vegetable toppings (and yes, the mozzarella) was terrific. The rustic crust was chewy but not crispy, thick(ish) but not doughy, and had a flavor unto itself. We ate all of the pinsa save for one small end piece, which went home with us. It was that good.
And the Winner of the Local vs. a Chain Tiramisu Tilt Is …
Carrabba’s.
This decision comes with some caveats.
First, we greatly enjoyed both versions of the tiramisu. My gut tells me that the Bonu’ version probably tasted more authentically Italian, but my American palette prefered Carrabba’s’ more cake-like, more succinctly layered, slightly sweeter take. And then there was all that dark chocolate.
Second, the pinsa opening act stole both shows. One of the owners, Antonio, stopped by our table. We asked him about the crust. He launched into an entertaining soliloquy, marked by his Italian accent, extolling the virtues of the flour. Bonu’ imports the DiMarco brand from Italy at more than twice the cost of conventional pizza flour. It’s a mixture of whole wheat, soy and rice flour, which not only enhances the flavor but is easier on the tummy. Antonio said its safe to eat for people with gluten intolerance.
Let me close by strongly recommending that you stop by Bonu’ and try a pinsa. The restaurant offers 13 different types, with creative assemblages of toppings.
As for tiramisu’s aphrodisiac qualities — Friday Food Fight has no comment.
