Layers of sweetness and reflection: a tiramisu that honours tradition while embracing change
As the sun sets a little earlier and the air grows thick with the perfume of ripe apples, we arrive once again at the gates of a new year. Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, isn’t marked by fireworks or countdowns. It’s a time of joyous reflection, punctuated by the blast of the shofar, and tinted with a honeyed golden hue.
At the heart of this holiday, and the days of awe that follow, culminating in Yom Kippur, is the idea of teshuvah: to return. It’s often more harshly translated as ‘to repent’, but for such a deeply reflective time, I see it more as a call to return to our better selves, to our community, to our values. We take stock, set intentions and begin again with a fresh slate. It’s similar to Western New Year’s resolutions, but hopefully longer-lasting. Like so many rituals, especially in Jewish culture, this journey begins with food.
Honouring that tradition, I always employ the essential symbols of apples and honey, but never so straightforwardly. In the spirit of starting afresh, I crave something new, unexpected, but still familiar. This year, that means tiramisu, unlike any you’ve seen before.
Italian tiramisu, heavy with bracing espresso and marzipan-scented amaretto, synonymous with everyday pleasures and little luxuries, takes on an autumnal hue befitting of an orchard in early September. Replicating the classic architecture with tender homemade ladyfingers soaked in heady, lightly spiked syrup, layered with rich yet light whipped mousse, it’s a beauty to behold.
Espresso now plays second fiddle to a warm reduction of spiced apple juice, slowly simmered until deeply fragrant and lightly caramelised. Vegan cream cheese lightened with airy whipped dairy-free cream, then infused with dark, warmly spiced apple butter, replaces the old one-note mascarpone filling. The essence of apples and sweetness are woven throughout, unmistakable in every bite, yet more subtle and elegant than a basic platter of sliced fruit.
Of course, apples are more than just fruits on Rosh Hashanah. We dip them in bee-free honey, maple syrup, agave or date syrup and say, ‘May the year ahead be as sweet as this bite.’ We eat sweetness not to satisfy a craving, but to sanctify the future.
Judaism has always been inherently aligned with veganism. Veganism, at its heart, is a commitment to compassion: a refusal to cause suffering when joy can be created without it. On a holiday season that calls us to examine our actions and their ripple effects, not only on ourselves but on others, the world and the voiceless among us, this choice feels more relevant than ever.
Tiramisu, in its literal translation, means ‘pick me up’, and isn’t that what this season asks of us? To rise, to lift ourselves and others, because what good is such a dessert, and such joy, if not shared?
In Jewish tradition, the round challah we eat on Rosh Hashanah symbolises the cycle of the year, the circle of life, the unending wholeness we seek. In a way, this tiramisu mirrors that form. Each layer repeats, each flavour echoes the last but with a slightly different note. Like echoes of kindness returned, they build upon each other.
For many, the move to veganism is prompted by health, ethics or environmental concerns. During the High Holidays, it can feel spiritual, too. Rosh Hashanah teaches us that change is possible. We are not fixed in place. Then, Yom Kippur, with its gravity and call for atonement, teaches accountability and transformation. This invisible line dividing one year from the next gives us the opportunity to make a positive shift. Veganism echoes that same possibility, that we can live better with more conscious compassion and that we can taste joy without bitterness, celebrating without harm. That’s the kind of sweetness that lasts long after the taste of sugar leaves our lips.
While Rosh Hashanah calls us inward for reflection, this dessert is decidedly outward in its appeal. For maximum impact, use a glass dish to show off all the layers, or you can even build single servings in their own little glass jars.
This tiramisu also holds up beautifully in the fridge for a day or two, making it ideal for preparing ahead. In fact, the flavours deepen overnight, the spiced apple syrup mingling more intimately with the other layers. It’s not only a gift to your guests but to yourself: one less thing to worry about on a holiday already full of emotion and expectation.
You’ll likely have extra ‘apple-spresso’ syrup leftover, which can be drizzled on top of individual servings or spooned on the plate to pool around each slice. Otherwise, you can save it for yourself and lavish it over ice cream or French toast, or froth it into non-dairy milk to make lattes.
As we gather to share in the sweetness of the season, let this tiramisu be more than a dessert and ignore any naysayers stuck in the past. Honouring history and heritage doesn’t mean repeating them exactly, but carrying their essence forward with intention and with an eye towards the future.
Wishing you a new year layered with light, soaked in sweetness and built with compassion.
Shanah Tovah Umetukah. May it be a happy, sweet year for you and for all beings.
Blog written by Hannah Kaminsky, Senior Editor of Vegan Journal, recipe developer, food photographer, and cookbook author based in Austin, Texas. They focus on bold flavours, unconventional combinations, and simple techniques to make vegan food more accessible and delicious for everyone.
Find more of her work at BitterSweetBlog.com and on Instagram at @BitterSweet__
The views expressed by our bloggers are not necessarily the views of The Vegan Society.
