For a few weeks I had an appointment on Wednesdays at 3pm. It was suggested that, while I shouldn’t eat a big lunch beforehand, I could have a light snack that didn’t interfere with having my shoulder manipulated. If I’d been told to eat nothing, it would have been easier: an adjustment to breakfast maybe, an ice-cream or bag of chips after, and thoughts of dinner. But “anything that might interfere with my shoulder” was a question as much as a suggestion. What wouldn’t interfere with my shoulder? Crackers and cheese, yoghurt, ice-cream, banana, a triangle sandwich or a biscuit with a jam filling from the nearest bar?
One of the many benefits of having a granny who ran a pub was knowing from a young age what a wonderful place a long bar can be. And not just in a pub. It could be at a swimming pool canteen or cafe, or a bar in the Italian sense – a long counter where you have something quick to eat or drink, be alone while in company, have things going on behind the bar to watch and a person to talk to. Or not. Anyway, it was the third or fourth week when I stood at the counter in Bar Paradiso, having a cappuccino and a slice of plain cake. It was perfect, didn’t interfere with my shoulder, and my stomach didn’t rumble. I went back the following week, which was my last appointment. But paradise and cake were by now for ever linked, so when I read about torta del paradiso, which has nothing to do with a bar in Rome (it’s typical of Pavia in Lombardia), I decided to make it.
There is a legend about a herbalist monk inventing this cake for his fellow brothers, and a story about it being the creation of Enrico Vigoni, a local baker. In both cases, the particularity of torta del paradiso is its aerated lightness. This is thanks to four things: using icing sugar, creaming the butter, icing sugar and yolks until extremely pale and light, using half potato starch and half flour, and mounting the egg whites into stiff peaks before folding them in. All the aerating produces a paler cake, too. Is is also a memorable cake of “quattro quarti” (four parts), which, like a classic pound cake, uses equal parts butter, sugar, flour and eggs.
The classic way to serve this cake is dusted with icing sugar, using a stencil to make a pattern, if you want. Another way is to spilt the cake and fill it with lemon curd and/or mascarpone sweetened with a little sugar. Alternatively, prick the underside of the cake with a toothpick and sprinkle the holes with a liqueur – maraschino and poire williams come to mind – so the bottom inch gets slightly soaked. Which means that, while it’s still a light cake, the paradisiacal nature is as much about sinking down as floating up.
Torta del Paradiso
Prep 15 min
Cook 40 min
Makes 1 x 24cm cake
250g softened butter
250g icing sugar
5 eggs, separated
125g potato starch
125g plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
Zest of 1 large unwaxed lemon
To serve (all optional)
Icing sugar, for dusting
1 small jar lemon curd
150g mascarpone mixed with 2 tsp sugar
Liqueur (eg maraschino or poire williams)
Beat the butter and half the icing sugar very well, until light and fluffy. Add the egg yolks one by one, beating in each one well before adding the next, then add the potato starch, flour, baking powder and lemon zest, and beat again.
In another bowl, whisk the eggs whites until good and foamy, add the rest of the sugar and whisk to stiff peaks. Fold the egg white mix into the butter bowl, then scrape the lot into a lined 24cm cake tin and bake in the middle of a 180C (160C fan)/350F/gas 4 oven for 40 minutes, until a skewer or strand of spaghetti comes out clean.
To serve, dust with icing sugar. Alternatively, spilt and fill with lemon curd and/or mascarpone sweetened with a little sugar, or prick the underside with a toothpick, sprinkle with liqueur and leave to soak in for a few minutes.
