Oh, you tease. You bloody tease of a cocoa-based cake bar. Oh yes I want to eat you. I want to eat the living shit out of you…
Oh sorry, I was in the middle of a transcribing the conversation I’m having with a Trancetto, with a view to pitching an erotic cake-based novella to Penguin.
But what is a Trancetto? Well there are some questions that science can’t answer. Is it even a thing at all? Yes, yes it is. It is a spongy cake, in plastic, with the vague suggestion of Tiramisu without any liquor content. The Trancetto is often available in bulky packs on special offer in ex-pat Southern European-owned newsagents. These are not establishments that like to ask existential questions.
99p for something stupid like 12 are the necessary stats in this case, my first multi-Trancetto experience. I could get up to check whether it’s 12 or 16 but I’m trying to type and eat Trancetto here; how hard-working do you wish you Average Food scribe to be? Do not answer this question, reader.
It is soft, smooth, sweet and sensuous. The lightness of the cake implies a machine process to rival the world’s finest artisan master bakers. Trancetto-makers Balconi are clearly a company with an enlightened philosophy for the post-industrial age (as proven by the fact there’s one on its website).
Trancetto may be faintly erotic, but it is also honest – a fine combination, I find. Trancetto both sounds like it would be made in Italy and is made in Italy. It tastes like it would contain hazelnut paste and powdered skimmed milk, and…well, you get the picture.
The naysayers may say Trancetto will always be a fringe average dessert snack. I disagree. Although the sponge is literally pale, this jumps beyond the pale and challenges the heights of cultural experience. I, however, feel a bit queasy.