The flavour? Good: it was built well, with decent layers, and the Marsala-spiked egg mousse clearly meant to be the star. It is the kind of tiramisu meant for a long, lazy Sunday afternoon, probably shared and drunk with vino santo, amaretto, or — for the diehards — grappa. Which is to say it’s heavy, thick, indulgent. For me, though the menu says the sponge fingers have been soaked in espresso and rum, it was too light on both. I like a tiramisu that comes with the tang of bitter coffee and preferably a little kick of booze; these cut the creaminess and add a welcome, enlivening sharpness to the pudding. Did this need that? Perhaps: halfway through, I was beat. Chewing the coffee bean itself helped, though. Still, I’d go back and share it, and to be honest, I’d trust Wrighty if he found another tiramisu worth travelling for. Let’s see where’s next.
Ian Wright’s TikTok tiramisu: how good is Harry’s Dolce Vita really?
