I found impossibly cute pink savoiardi at my local Italian supermarket and, of course, couldn’t resist. They resurfaced later, right as I was planning dessert for Christmas Eve. Since yuzu sake had already slipped into the menu via yuzu-sake–cured gravlax, it felt only polite to invite it to dessert too. A gentle splash brought floral lift to a citrusy tiramisu: lemon curd, mascarpone, no coffee, no cocoa. Just winter sunshine, layered and softly festive.

Paprika isn’t background seasoning—it’s a system. In Hungary, it’s the backbone of cooking, dissolving into fat and building flavour quietly while stews take the credit. Elsewhere it changes accents: Spanish pimentón brings smoke and swagger. I built a three-course menu around Hungarian paprika—some dishes traditional, some happily not—to show how one red powder can anchor a meal, bend the rules, and still hold everything together. Cheers.

Swiss meringues with Gruyère double cream are pure indulgence: crisp, airy sugar clouds meeting rich, velvety cream and bright berries. This dessert is so Swiss it practically yodels, effortlessly turning simple ingredients into something magical. Pair it with Champagne or a sweet late-harvest wine, and suddenly you’ve got a tiny, glorious celebration on a plate. Sugar, cream, berries… wine. Repeat. Happiness guaranteed.

This sweet Italian liqueur is like a cozy hug in a glass, with its delightful almond flavor that makes it perfect for sipping solo or jazzing up your favorite cocktails and desserts. Now, before you start imagining orchards of almond trees, let me spill the beans: many brands craft their amaretto from apricot pits, peach stones, or other stone fruit kernels. Yes, it's a nutty little riddle wrapped in a sweet package!

One of our favourite holiday recipes is the rich and decadent Port Poached Pear Chocolate Cake with Blue Cheese. The combination may sound unusual to some, but trust me—it’s a match made in holiday heaven. It is also easy to make and so impressive!

Chartreuse is a legendary French liqueur dreamed up by Carthusian monks who somehow wrangle 130 mysterious plants into one bottle. Only two monks know the recipe (probably sworn to magical secrecy). From drying herbs in a medieval-looking room to aging the liquid in giant oak casks, everything feels delightfully dramatic. Chartreuse isn’t just a drink- it’s a full-on herbal epic. Then add this to an already dramatic Italian tiramisu, and the drama multiplies!