Sam Baldwin is fretting over the pitfalls of dating when his needling friend, Jay, utters the fateful word.
"Tiramisu."
"What is tiramisu?" Sam asks.
"You'll find out."
"Well, what is it?"
"You'll see."
"Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I won't know what it is."
"You'll love it."
"This is going to be tough. Tough. Much tougher than I thought it would be," concludes an exasperated Sam.
WHAT A WIMP.
Tough? You want to hear tough? Sam and Jay are mere fiction. The two characters portrayed by actors Tom Hanks and Rob Reiner in "Sleepless In Seattle" are never seen dealing with tiramisu again.
Try this assignment: Sample tiramisu night after night to get a feel of what pleasure-seekers in Baltimore are confronting. Order it again and again and again until you see it in your dreams.
Good thing it's nothing more strenuous than dessert.
That little snippet of dialogue from last summer's hit movie had nationwide ramifications. It helped propel this relatively simple Italian dessert that sounds like a chapter in the Kamasutra into a restaurant staple.
To understand the implications of the tiramisu phenomenon, this reporter was dispatched to a smattering of restaurants and caterers to investigate their versions of the dish. Observations were made, prices were checked, tough questions were asked and several notebooks were filled with information.
As a result of all this probing, prodding and poking -- but mostly eating, eating, eating -- the truth was slowly revealed.
Say hello to the dessert of the '90s. Seriously, it's no passing fancy.
If you haven't been introduced yet, tiramisu is a creamy blend of flavors, a sensual delight that seems entirely appropriate as a double-entendre: It's a guilty pleasure, a sinfully rich climax of flavors.
There are many variations on the dish, but the basic ingredients are consistent. Tiramisu mingles ladyfingers soaked in coffee or espresso and liquor, with a fluffy pudding made of eggs or egg custard, cream, sugar and mascarpone (a sweet Italian cheese that tastes like a rich cream cheese), and usually is topped with shaved chocolate or cocoa. It is always served cold.
No wonder it has displaced cheesecake as the popular standard on many restaurant menus. It's relatively easy to make, but hard to resist.
When "Sleepless" was first screened, TriStar Pictures was inundated with questions about this mystery word. Eventually, the studio mailed out a tiramisu recipe that is said to be a favorite of the film's director and writer, Nora Ephron.
TriStar even held a tiramisu taste test on the studio lot, and shipped samples of tiramisu packed in boxes of dry ice to leading critics in New York and Los Angeles before the movie premiered.
"I didn't know what it was until I got that first call," said Susan L. Levin, TriStar's publicity director. "People may not have known what it was before, but they do now. I know we've pushed sales way up."
Not since that cute little extraterrestrial demonstrated a fondness for Reese's Pieces in "E. T." has a movie inspired such a clamoring for a confection.
"Tiramisu is a comfort food," says Martha Royall, a Baltimore caterer who supplies the treat wholesale to city restaurants One World Cafe and Adrian's Book Cafe. "I think we're in the height of its popularity now and I don't think it's going to die down."
***
THE SEARCH FOR THE CONSUMMATE TIRAMISU began aBoccaccio at 925 Eastern Ave. With its formal surroundings, traditional menu and Little Italy venue, it seemed the perfect place to find a classic.
The restaurant's $4.75 serving is a best seller and deservedly so. You can see the layers of moistened spongecake alternating with a rich, but light, cream. The tastes are subtle, and it was hard to put a finger on the liquor flavor.
Chef Giovanni Rigato later explained that he uses grappa, an Italian brandy. His recipe is derived from a New York version he encountered "five or six" years ago and he has been preparing it ever since.
"People like the espresso taste, the little bit of pastry, and everything about it," Mr. Rigato says. "They go for something light. It's a good dessert."
Just two blocks away, the variation at Vaccaro's Italian Pastry Shop, 222 Albemarle St., is quite different. For $4.10, a diner gets a serving smothered in whipped cream with a maraschino cherry on top.
The flavors are strong and sweet. Coffee liqueur augments the espresso. The mound of whipped cream makes the portion seem huge.
Owner Nick Vaccaro said he also began offering tiramisu six years ago, but it has become "phenomenally" popular in just the past year (although sales still lag far behind the classic cannoli).
He sells "75 to 85" of the $13.55 family-size versions to take-out customers and restaurants weekly. Each serves four to five people.
"It has that nice cliche name to it," Mr. Vaccaro confides. "It sounds so elegant and worldly. When you actually try it, then you find out it's good, too."
The name literally means pick me up, and comes from the Italian ritual of getting some sweet dessert with one's morning coffee to boost energy. In concept, it is quite similar to the centuries-old English trifle, and the Italian version of trifle, "zuppa inglese," or literally, English soup.
Although its name sounds Old World, tiramisu isn't. Bon Appetit magazine recently traced its origins to Treviso, Italy, near Venice, about 20 years ago.
***
THERE MAY BE A THOUSAND variations on the dish and virtually no two versions of tiramisu are exactly alike. One particularly decadent example can be found at Due, 25 Crossroads Drive in Owings Mills, where it's cut from a mold and elegantly surrounded by creme anglaise and topped with chocolate shavings.
One of the secrets behind it is that the restaurant's baker, Laurel Piper, uses zabaglione, the creamy Italian custard. The choices in liquors are sweet Marsala and dark rum in the custard, coffee liqueur and espresso for the ladyfingers.
The result is a tiramisu triumph at $4.95.
"It's not too heavy and it's not too chocolate," says Mrs. Piper, who sometimes has to fill diners' requests for tiramisu in Linwood's Cafe next door even though it's not on the sister restaurant's menu. "It's the best-selling dessert we have."
Even more dramatic is the attempt at stylish Sfuzzi, 100 E. Pratt St., at the Inner Harbor. Its perfectly round tiramisu would win any beauty pageant -- or at least a most elaborately decorated contest -- with a raspberry, sprig of mint, shaved chocolate, and a cookie, all sitting in a pool of coffee syrup.
The flavor is a bit offbeat with pastry that is more like a chocolate brownie than spongy ladyfinger. The cost: $4.50.
Demonstrating just how pervasive the tiramisu trend has become, a respectable version can even be found under the green and red "Taste It" label in the deli area of Super Fresh, 1020 41st St. For $2.99, you get a small portion with modest flavors and an emphasis on custard.
Alas, there is a price to pay for all this luxurious eating. One serving of tiramisu can pack as many as 800 calories and a high percentage of that comes from fat.
Mascarpone alone is 60 percent butterfat. Add in the whipped cream and eggs, and you can see the problem.
Nutrition expert Hope S. Warshaw offers a solution for those who want to eat this heavenly food without having your thighs pay heck: moderation.
"The general principle I recommend is to order one serving and split it among several people," says Ms. Warshaw, a registered dietitian and author of "The Restaurant Companion," a guide to eating out healthier.
"How many bites do you really need to satisfy that sweet craving after a meal? When people get in touch with that, they can be OK about having a few bites of something, and that won't hurt you."
Still, self-control can be sorely tested at Gemelli Desserts, 29 Allegheny Ave. in Towson, where the tiramisu is topped with bits of toasted hazelnuts and the ladyfingers get a touch of hazelnut liqueur. It adds a nutty quality to all that shaved chocolate and cream.
Gemelli, a takeout and caterer, sells its Tirami Su Su for just $2.50. And what a deal! It's thick and creamy, a bit light on the coffee flavor, with just the right quality of gloppiness.
"You can go 10 different places and have it 10 different ways," says Doreen Ercolano, Gemelli's owner. "There are so many different palates to please."
Mrs. Ercolano opened her business in October and is already moving to a larger shop two doors down. The popularity of her tiramisu is one of the reasons behind the move.
"I used to bring it to parties and people went nuts over it and thought I ought to make it for restaurants," Mrs. Ercolano recalls.
That's already come to pass. She supplies it to Cafe Drubay in Cross Keys, Graul's in Ruxton, and Mo's Crab and Pasta Factory in Little Italy.
Across the street from Gemelli, the tiramisu at Troia's, the Italian bistro at 28 Allegheny Ave., is not for the faint of heart. A $3.50 serving, available at the restaurant or as a carryout item, packs a powerful coffee punch.
It also has a higher percentage of cake, and it's not as sweet or chocolatey as the tiramisu at other restaurants. The dessert served as a reminder that tiramisu was an appropriate topic for a movie with the word sleepless in its title: Its caffeine kept this reporter wide-eyed for half the night.
"Somebody should come up with a decaf version," says Stacey Sells, owner of Happy Endings, a supplier of restaurant bakery items who makes tiramisu only on request. "It would cause less insomnia."
Nora Ephron's tiramisu
4 fresh eggs
1/2 cup Tia Maria or brandy
1 pound mascarpone cheese
1/2 cup granulated sugar
package of stale ladyfingers
1/2 cup strong espresso (decaf is fine)
2 one-ounce squares semisweet chocolate
Separate eggs into large bowls. Add liqueur to egg yolks and stir until blended. Then add mascarpone. Stir until blended. Beat egg whites until soft peaks form. Then continuing to beat, add sugar a little at a time until stiff peaks are formed. Add half of the egg whites to the cheese-egg yolk mixture and blend well. Then add the rest and fold in gently. Set aside. Dip ladyfingers quickly in espresso. Don't saturate them. Place flat side down in a shallow dish (10-inch round or 9-by-12-inch oval, for example). Add half the cheese mixture and smooth the top. Grate half the chocolate over the top, covering the surface. Then add another layer of espresso-coated ladyfingers. Top with remaining cheese mixture and smooth the top. Cover with remaining chocolate. Refrigerate, covered, for several hours or overnight.