speaking of adriano zumbo (hem)…

well. you might have noticed i went the last three months without posting a single cake photo. that’s not to say none were eaten. it’s just, the combination of feeling poor, and fat, and sick all at once really scuttled any ambition to eat my way through the entire collection. and besides, you don’t really need me to tell you about them — everyone blogs about zumbo these days, including belle, who recently posted an enviable summary of her dalliances. onya!

but so. cakes were eaten, and these are them.

the first one that caught my fancy was the petit st honore. a cakey biscuit (or biscuity cake) base topped with mad swirls of tonka bean creme chantilly, adorned with sliced strawberries and four miniature profiteroles. each one was glazed in perfect, cracklicious toffee, and filled with a divine passionfruit pastry cream.

i wikipediad tonka beans, and discovered that eaten in substantial amounts, they can be quite toxic. however, safely contained within this masterful structure, it tasted clean and curious, like ozone cream.

i deepened my infatuation with caramel with the dulce de leche eclair, a neat little package of chewy choux wearing a stripe of sticky caramel. the filling of caramel pastry cream was just wonderful — rich and creamy with an undercurrent of burnt sugar. i wolfed this one down — it was small, and i was hungry — and immediately wished i had another.

and then there was a day in the time of sickness when i felt like cake, but thought it had to be a gentle and comforting cake for the infirm. i went against the recommendations of the counterboy that day; i think he was nudging me towards the giant pink macaron filled with cherries and chocolate and coconut.

i picked the open sesame, with its delicate secret layers of yoghurt mousse and honey-date cremeux. and the slightly soggy sesame brittle that it wore as its armour.

it was very yoghurty, which i enjoyed, but in the end the texture just seemed too homogenised, and the flavour somewhat bland. of course, that was a time in which i couldn’t actually taste anything, so don’t take my word for it. it could have been a very cultured party in my mouth if i hadn’t been quite so ill.

it was a great many weeks after i first saw it in the case that i finally conquered cinque terre. the luscious ribbon of baked meringue had always called to me, like the hypnotic rattle of a sidewinder meandering through the dessert sands. i ate the layers together, and then separately, and then all together again, and couldn’t decide which way i preferred. there are cakey bits and moussey bits. creamy lemony bits and brittle chocolatey bits. raspberry bits. there are candied olives! this is a great cake. g r e a t.

the one i had most recently — o-live life — i had on a sweltering day. by the time i got it home, the olive oil mousse, though still holding its shape, was almost liquid in texture. at this temperature, the fruity olive oil was quite commanding, a big, round flavour that filled my mouth and then vanished down my throat slippery quick. the tart raspberries sequestered within were a cunning — and perfect — foil. the rice pudding creme? well, you know how i feel about rice pudding. i must warn you though: the berries only go round halfway.

and thassit. a modest roundup by all accounts, to which i may only add one or two more before the end of the run. there is one i have had my eye on from the beginning: the tanzanie, whose components are flourless chocolate biscuit, chocolate jelly, chocolate ganache, vanilla brulee, chocolate mousse and chocolate meringue. it is crowned with a magnificent wave of dark chocolate. i don’t know how i have not had it yet. but soon, my pet, soon.