Frenchie and the Magical Corsican Dessert

Have I told you yet about a dessert called fiadone? No, of course not! I was too busy babbling about frittatas, roasted wild kid and nightly cows eating fresh figs. So I shall tell you about this baked tasty cake, which is by far the most famous and best-known Corsican dessert. But then, there’s also the fig jam I need to mention. Why, oh why must the produce here be so wonderful and unique? Pourquoi? I need a 6-month extension to this vacation so I can properly try everything and fully understand how the Italians, Greeks and Phoenicians influenced the superb Corsican cuisine. One can only dream…

I hear the prolific fig tree in front of the house is becoming an issue. The ripe figs fall and burst spreading their gooey sweet mess on the ground. During the night, the wild cows come down from the mountain to eat the plump fruits still attached to the tree leaving nothing for us but chewed up leaves and branches – and I heard them in the dark of the night with their clapping hooves and demure chewing! This can only mean one thing: fig jam!

Sure enough, figs are collected, washed, peeled and prepared in the most basic Corsican tradition – with vanilla and hints of lemon. There are already plenty of fig jam jars in the pantry but due to the abundance of figs on the island it is common for people to use and eat them however they can. Slicing up the rustic bread dusted with flour on the old wooden table, I dip some large pieces in the tall and deep pan where the jam simmers and bubbles up. The sticky smell of the juicy figs is already spreading out through the village from the window left ajar. It’s actually burning a bit – but in a good way so the jam ends up having an overall slightly pronounced smokey taste. Hooves noises outside of the kitchen. Cows again? No, just the two local donkeys Zéphyr and Bijou stopping by for some sugar cubes and a gentle pat on the head. It’s their routine I guess. OK, just one more slice of bread to taste this lemony fig jam again!

We’ll go on a hike this afternoon! But not before we bake a fiadone, which I am sure will give me plenty of sugar overload and energy for the long walk. The name itself – fiadone– sounds as magical as it tastes. It’s like an imaginary far away fairy land, which should have been included on Frodo’s tough journey before reaching Mordor. It’s a mystical delicious sound and repeated 3 times in a row will open Pandora’s dessert box. Yes, fiadone is sweet to the ears as well as to one’s taste buds. A fiadone is really a crustless cheesecake made with brocciu – the lactose-free whey cheese that can easily be replaced by ricotta. And can you ever go wrong when mixing eggs, sugar, lemon zest, ricotta cheese, orange blossom and brandy? Non!!

Fragrant, sweet-scented, simple, soft, golden and round like a sun-filled addictive treat, it’s an all-time classic. The Italians have an equivalent, which they call Torta di Pasqua al formaggio made with a sweet crust. The fiadone however is crustless and no more than an inch in thickness. It is so ridiculously easy to make, I vowed to bake one everyday after I sank my teeth into the light, airy and frothy consistency of the most appreciated Corsican dessert. This recipe will be kept under my pillow forever!

The hike seemed like a blur between my digestion of too many slices of cake, reminiscing about the fig jam and our discussion about what to make for dinner. I remember following

a herd of goats for what seemed like a long hour, picking blackberries in thorny bushes, basking in the light sunrays piercing through the thick foliage of the forest, staring at dark corners for any lurking animal eyes, picking red currants along the way – berry coulis for tonight’s left over cake! – and all of a sudden I was on top of the San Petrone Mount at 5,800 feet.

The contorted shapes of the mountains and rocks around enraptured all of us. As far as the eye could see, Corsica was spreading its wealth in front of us – venerable and unique. As we settled for an afternoon snack way on top – and no, I did not slyly wrapped and packed a slice of fiadone in my bag – we idealized the sensations of experiencing the many Corsican flavors – flavors we tasted, smelled and saw along the way.

Text and pictures by Frenchie and the Yankee. © Frenchie and the Yankee