Pumpkin Tiramisu -- The Greek Prozac Was Busy, So I Made This Instead

Valentine's Day passed with less fanfare than Sophia's science fair, which occupied the entire week and most of my kitchen table. Her honey antibacterial project was a hit — she tested five varieties of honey, including Mama's Greek mountain honey, which proved to have the strongest antibacterial properties, a result that surprised exactly no one in our family because we have been telling the world that Greek honey is superior for approximately three thousand years and now we have a ninth-grader's science project to prove it.

She won second place. She wanted first. She has the Papadopoulos inability to be satisfied with second, which Mama would call ambition and I would call stubbornness and which is, in truth, the same thing wearing different hats. She came home with her ribbon and her poster board and set them on the kitchen counter and said next year I will win. I said I believe you. She said you always say that. I said because I always believe it. She rolled her eyes. The eye roll was affectionate. I will take affectionate eye rolls. They are the currency of love between mothers and teenage daughters, and I am a wealthy woman.

Alexander is gliding through his final semester with the peaceful exhaustion of a runner who can see the finish line. His grades are excellent. His social life is full. He has the particular glow of an eighteen-year-old — wait, he is seventeen until later this year. Born 2000, so in February 2018 he is seventeen. He has the glow of a seventeen-year-old who knows where he is going and is enjoying the last stretch of where he has been.

The real estate market is picking up for spring. I have nine active leads and the phone is ringing with the energy of a market waking up. I listed a gorgeous Mediterranean-style home in Beach Park that made me want to quit everything and just cook in its kitchen forever. The listing photos were beautiful. The kitchen photographed like a dream. I sold it in five days.

I made galaktoboureko to celebrate Sophia's science fair and to comfort her about second place, because galaktoboureko is the Greek dessert that says congratulations and also I am sorry and also eat this and feel better, all in one bite. The custard was silky. The phyllo was crispy. The lemon syrup was sharp enough to cut through the sweetness and remind you that life, like dessert, is best when it balances the sweet with the tart. Sophia ate two pieces. She felt better. She always feels better after galaktoboureko. We all do. It is the Greek Prozac. Cheaper, tastier, and you do not need a prescription.

I had my heart set on galaktoboureko, and I made it, and it was everything I promised you it would be — but when my neighbor asked for the recipe I could share here, I thought of this Pumpkin Tiramisu, which carries the same spirit: layers of something creamy and silky, sweetened just enough, with a little sharpness underneath to keep you honest. It is the kind of dessert you make when someone deserves both a congratulations and an I believe in you in the same bite. Sophia approved. That is the only review that matters.

Pumpkin Tiramisu

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 4 hours 25 minutes (includes chilling) | Servings: 10

Ingredients

• 1 (15 oz) can pure pumpkin puree
• 1 (8 oz) package cream cheese, softened
• 1 (8 oz) container mascarpone cheese
• 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, divided
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 2 cups heavy whipping cream, cold
• 1 1/2 cups strong brewed coffee or espresso, cooled
• 2 tablespoons coffee liqueur or maple syrup (optional)
• 30–36 ladyfinger cookies (savoiardi)
• Unsweetened cocoa powder, for dusting
• Ground cinnamon, for dusting

Instructions

1. Make the pumpkin cream. In a large bowl, beat the softened cream cheese and mascarpone together until completely smooth. Add the pumpkin puree, 1 cup of the powdered sugar, vanilla extract, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and cloves. Beat on medium speed until silky and well combined, scraping down the sides as needed.
2. Whip the cream. In a separate chilled bowl, beat the cold heavy whipping cream with the remaining 1/2 cup powdered sugar until stiff peaks form. Do not overbeat.
3. Fold together. Gently fold the whipped cream into the pumpkin mixture in three additions, using a rubber spatula and a light hand, until no white streaks remain. The mixture should be airy and smooth.
4. Prepare the coffee dip. Combine the cooled coffee and the liqueur or maple syrup (if using) in a shallow bowl wide enough to dip the ladyfingers.
5. Build the first layer. Working quickly, dip each ladyfinger into the coffee mixture for 1–2 seconds per side — just enough to absorb flavor without becoming soggy. Arrange a single layer of dipped ladyfingers in the bottom of a 9x13-inch dish or a deep serving dish.
6. Add the pumpkin layer. Spread half of the pumpkin cream mixture evenly over the first layer of ladyfingers, smoothing the top with an offset spatula.
7. Repeat the layers. Dip and arrange the remaining ladyfingers in a second layer over the pumpkin cream. Spread the remaining pumpkin cream mixture over the top, smoothing it evenly to the edges.
8. Dust and chill. Using a fine-mesh sieve, dust the top generously with unsweetened cocoa powder and a light sprinkle of ground cinnamon. Cover the dish loosely with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or overnight, to allow the layers to set and the flavors to meld.
9. Serve. Slice into squares and serve cold. A fresh dusting of cocoa just before serving makes each plate look beautiful.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 27g | Carbs: 39g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 160mg