Tres Leches Cake

If you are lactose-intolerant, turn away now. This is, sadly, not for you. This triple threat of dairy desserts is Latin American in origin, though which country in Latin America is contested (there is also, incidentally, an Albanian version known as Trilece) and the Tres Leches of the title indicate the three milks you need to make it: sweetened condensed milk; evaporated milk; and either cream or milk, though I use both. On this information alone, it hardly sounds appealing, I concede, but you’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you it tastes utterly ambrosial.

In the US, where the Tres Leches Cake is much more familiarly known, differently flavoured versions abound, and I’ve played around with some myself, but the traditional iteration is the one I keep coming back to. I have tweaked it slightly though: I add finely grated lemon zest to the cake itself, and mascarpone to the cream topping. Both additions beautifully temper the sweetness, and the mascarpone also helps stabilise the cream.

I know the recipe looks forbiddingly long, but it’s not hard to make at all. It’s just that there are a number of processes, all of them straightforward: the making then baking of the sponge; the patient ladling over of the milky mixture to drench the cooled cake, followed by its long soaking time in the fridge; the whisking and application of the creamy topping. Yes, you do need to start making this two days before you plan to eat it, but a dessert that’s made in advance is a positive boon as far as I’m concerned.

You might be assuming that a cake soaked in a vatful of liquid would turn to mush. Miraculously it doesn’t. Its texture is a dream, and the cream and mascarpone topping just adds to the lusciousness. You may want to serve some sharp berries alongside and, indeed, I sometimes do, but it is simply perfection as it is.

One final note: I always make this in an oblong cake tin measuring 33 x 23 x 5 cm / 13 x 9 x 2 inches (mine’s the Rectangular USA Pan, if that helps). I know plonking a metal tin on the table when serving is not the most elegant way to go, but once your guests have had their very first bite, I can assure you no one will be fretting over anything. And nor should you.

If you are lactose-intolerant, turn away now. This is, sadly, not for you. This triple threat of dairy desserts is Latin American in origin, though which country in Latin America is contested (there is also, incidentally, an Albanian version known as Trilece) and the Tres Leches of the title indicate the three milks you need to make it: sweetened condensed milk; evaporated milk; and either cream or milk, though I use both. On this information alone, it hardly sounds appealing, I concede, but you’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you it tastes utterly ambrosial.

In the US, where the Tres Leches Cake is much more familiarly known, differently flavoured versions abound, and I’ve played around with some myself, but the traditional iteration is the one I keep coming back to. I have tweaked it slightly though: I add finely grated lemon zest to the cake itself, and mascarpone to the cream topping. Both additions beautifully temper the sweetness, and the mascarpone also helps stabilise the cream.

I know the recipe looks forbiddingly long, but it’s not hard to make at all. It’s just that there are a number of processes, all of them straightforward: the making then baking of the sponge; the patient ladling over of the milky mixture to drench the cooled cake, followed by its long soaking time in the fridge; the whisking and application of the creamy topping. Yes, you do need to start making this two days before you plan to eat it, but a dessert that’s made in advance is a positive boon as far as I’m concerned.

You might be assuming that a cake soaked in a vatful of liquid would turn to mush. Miraculously it doesn’t. Its texture is a dream, and the cream and mascarpone topping just adds to the lusciousness. You may want to serve some sharp berries alongside and, indeed, I sometimes do, but it is simply perfection as it is.

One final note: I always make this in an oblong cake tin measuring 33 x 23 x 5 cm / 13 x 9 x 2 inches (mine’s the Rectangular USA Pan, if that helps). I know plonking a metal tin on the table when serving is not the most elegant way to go, but once your guests have had their very first bite, I can assure you no one will be fretting over anything. And nor should you.