Mascarpone

Mascarpone, let's talk honestly. Forget what you know about aged cheese with a rind and a sharp bite — this one never had that story. It's young, it's rich, thirty-four grams of fat per hundred, and you feel it the second a spoon slides through: heavy, smooth, no resistance, no crumbs, like thick cream that forgot how to pour.

How do you choose it? Smell first. It should smell of milk and nothing else — no sourness, no fridge smell borrowed from a neighbour in the shop. Look at it: the colour can run from white to a soft ivory, that's normal, don't judge it by that. The surface should look smooth and even, with no watery sheen on top. Touch it with a spoon — it should fold like thick cream, not crumble, not weep water.

Now, some people say mascarpone is just fancy cream cheese, so you can whip it hard like whipped cream for volume. No! Push it too hard with a whisk and you'll see it change right in front of you — it turns grainy, loses its shine, starts to look oily instead of silky. The mistake this leads to: a tiramisu filling that looks curdled instead of smooth. Fold gently. Always gently.