tiramisu tart
goodbye 2025!
Happy new year! We woke up to a blanket of snow on our balcony this morning. It’s hard to believe that we’re officially in 2026. I’m not one to do end-of-year reflections, but this past year has felt big and important. In January, I was devastated by something that happened in my personal life and, for a long time, it felt as though I was mourning a death. But 2025 turned out to be an incredibly fulfilling and soul-nourishing year.
I’ve been living in the Netherlands with my husband for the past two-going-on-three years, and for much of this time, I found little reason to learn the language. We Singaporeans are a pragmatic bunch — many Dutchies speak fluent English, so there was frankly not much need. My decision to learn Dutch early this year was practical: I saw it as a way to haul myself out of a pit; I needed something productive and challenging to direct my energies towards.
It started off privately with Duolingo whenever I found snatches of time — long train commutes or car rides, or whenever I found myself in line. Eventually, in May, when I’d completed the entire Duolingo course, I ripped the bandaid off and went for Taalcafe (the free language practice sessions in the library). It was a terrifying prospect because prior to that, I’d only spoken Dutch out loud at home, but I had so much fun that when Taalcafe went on summer break in July, I enrolled myself in a language school.
As an expat, you often hear people talk of the need to find “community”. I’ve always found that term so hard to define. Because what is it, and what exactly is enough to be happy? There are so many layers to it, as someone who lives overseas. Maintaining your longest and dearest relationships back home via phone calls. Intentional get-togethers with friends from your homeland every couple of months. Striving to be known by face or name by your local postman or butcher. Making local friends. I did all of these things, but it still didn’t feel enough and that puzzled me. Being a part of a language group introduced an added layer to this multi-tiered cake of community — one that, frankly, I didn’t know I was missing.
There’s something truly meaningful about being part of a community centered around ritual and routine. As schoolers, we shared the same rhythms. We saw one another five days of the week, and shared the same exams, deadlines, and homework. We lose a little of that upon graduation— but I suppose, if you go to a 9-5 office job, having colleagues fulfils a similar function. As a freelancer, I found that being part of a group of people who met in a structured, frequent manner was something I’ve really missed.
But the frequency of seeing my language buddies was only part of the equation, I believe. Stumbling and fumbling through a new language together every single week forges such a particular, deep sort of connection. Many of us know about how oxytocin creates a sense of bonding through safety and affection, but this year, I learnt that vasopressin — a lesser known bonding hormone — is just as crucial. And what vasopressin thrives on is shared challenge (think completing a jigsaw puzzle with your lover, gaming with friends, or organising a successful event with your colleagues at work). Being a beginner is terrifying, but there’s something wonderfully bonding about being beginners together.
I’m nowhere near fluent, but being a Dutch learner has opened my mind to the many, often intangible benefits, of language learning, and it’s truly made my year special.
I leave you with a recipe for the last thing I made in my kitchen in 2025 — a tiramisu tart that we brought to our friends’ place for New Year’s Eve. Tiramisu is a perfect dessert and needs no improvement, but this is a very satisfying iteration by Beatrix in Melbourne. I’ve made some adjustments to certain steps and proportions, but the key components remain the same: a mascarpone zabaione; coffee-soaked chocolate sponge; a nutty butter crust to hold everything together as a slice and to impart a light crunch; and finally, a shower of cocoa and chocolate, made by blitzing a bar of dark chocolate. The chocolate gravel might seem over-the-top, but Wex and I agree that it makes all the difference.
Thank you for sticking around, and I hope to share more of my kitchen adventures with you in 2026!
Tiramisu tart
Makes 10 servings / a 28cm tart
Note: This tart should be assembled at least 4 hours or a day in advance. I prepared all of the components the night before, and assembled the tart on the morning of serving, and topped it off before bringing it to the party.
For the crust:
195g plain flour, plus more for dusting
75g ground hazelnut or almond
30g sugar
1/4 tsp salt
150g chilled unsalted butter, diced
2 tbsp water, or more as needed
Parchment paper
28cm tart pan
Make the tart dough: Combine the plain flour, ground hazelnut, sugar, and salt in a large bowl. Mix well, then add the butter. Toss the butter cubes through the flour mixture to coat, then rub the butter in thoroughly to the size of small peas. Add the water and mix it into the butter mixture with one hand so that the dough comes together and has the consistency of playdough — you might need slightly more or less water. Press the dough into a flat disc, then wrap it in plastic wrap and refrigerate it for at least 15 minutes.
Roll the dough and line the tart tin: Remove the dough from the plastic wrap and dust it all over with flour. Place it on a sheet of parchment and roll it out to a 4mm-thick circle (it should be comfortably larger than the circumference of your tart pan). Pick up the sheet of parchment and flip it upside down onto the tart pan (it should be ungreased and unlined). Peel off the parchment. Tuck the dough into the tart pan, making sure that it goes right into the pan edges. Press the dough against the sides then, with a sharp knife, trim off any excess dough from the rim of the tart tin to create a neat appearance. Press a large sheet of parchment onto the dough, then fill with dried lentils or rice, all the way up to the top of the tart tin. Freeze for 1 hour at least before baking.
Bake the tart crust: When ready to bake, preheat the oven to 180°C. Blind bake the tart crust for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the kitchen smells like cookies and the sides of the crust are firm and golden. Carefully remove the parchment with the weights and continue baking the crust for another 10 to 15 minutes, or until the bottom of the crust feels firm and is beginning to take on some colour. Remove from the oven and cool completely. At this point, you can wrap it in plastic wrap and store it at room temperature overnight.
For the chocolate sponge:
130g egg white
115g sugar
85g egg yolk
50g plain flour
45g cocoa powder, plus more for dusting
⅓ tsp baking powder
A pinch of salt
15g unsalted butter
1.5 tbsp water
¾ tsp vanilla bean paste
24cm round cake tin, greased and lined only at the bottom, and sides lightly dusted with cocoa powder
Prepare the batter: By hand or with an electric mixer, beat the egg whites in a large bowl until it forms stiff peaks. Gradually add the sugar a tablespoonful at a time while continuing to whisk to form a shiny and glossy meringue that forms stiff peaks. Whisk in the egg yolks. In a bowl, whisk the plain flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, and salt together. Sieve half of the flour mixture over the egg mixture and fold it in gently with a spatula. Repeat with the other half of the flour mixture. Place the butter, water, and vanilla bean paste in a small saucer or pot and microwave or heat gently for a few seconds until the butter is just warm and melted. Pour the warm (not hot!) butter mixture gently around the side of the bowl and fold in gently. Pour the batter into the cake pan, then smooth the top.
Bake and cool the cake: Bake for 15-18 minutes, or until springy to the touch. Cool the sponge for a few minutes, then gently run a knife around the sides. Flip the cake onto a plate, peel off the parchment, then invert onto a rack and allow it to cool completely. At this point, you can wrap it in plastic wrap or store it in an airtight container at room temperature overnight.
For the mascarpone zabaione:
75g egg
120g egg yolks
90ml sweet marsala, rum, or whiskey
90g sugar
1 tsp vanilla bean paste
900g mascarpone, chilled
Combine the egg, egg yolks, liquor of choice, sugar, and vanilla in a large heatproof bowl. Set it over a pot of simmering water. Cook over low heat, while whisking, until the mixture turns pale, creamy, and thick enough to hold its shape. Take it off the heat and continue whisking it for a few minutes to cool it down slightly. Add the mascarpone to the zabaione a little at a time, whisking thoroughly, to fully combine and eradicate any lumps. It should look like an ultra-thick and luxurious whipped cream. Press a piece of plastic wrap onto the surface and refrigerate for at least 2-3 hours, or overnight.
For assembly:
250g strong black coffee (I use freshly brewed coffee from a mokapot)
100g 70% dark chocolate
2-3 tablespoons cocoa powder
Assemble the tart: Spread about a fourth of the mascarpone zabaione around the base of the prepared tart crust. You want to have just enough to cover the base. Slice the sponge cake into 1cm-thick strips. Cut the strips into finger lengths. Working one at a time, dip the cake briefly into the coffee, then arrange them in a layer over the cream. You want the cake to be well-soaked but not dripping wet. To cover any gaps, you can fill them with smaller pieces of the coffee-soaked cake. Top the cake with roughly half of the remaining cream. It should come to the top of the tart crust. Smooth out the cream, then top with another layer of coffee-soaked cake. Top with the remaining cream and smooth out to form a generous dome. I don’t like to smooth out the sides and leave it quite rustic. Press the plastic wrap into the cream and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or overnight.
Top the tart: Roughly chop the chocolate by hand, then blitz it in a blender to form a fine gravel. Alternatively, you can finely chop the chocolate by hand. Scatter the chocolate rubble over the tart and push the cocoa powder through a sieve over the gravel. I like to leave the perimeter exposed for visual appeal. Serve thoroughly chilled.
