In Italy, this time of year comes with a very specific problem.
Panettone everywhere. Pandoro everywhere. Boxes half open, slices slowly drying, good intentions fading day after day.
At some point, no matter how good they are, eating them just like that stops being exciting.
So instead of forcing another slice, we do what cooks have always done: we transform.
This dessert was born exactly there, somewhere between leftovers and curiosity. Inspired by a cross between French toast and the Spanish torrija — two beautiful examples of how stale bread, eggs, fat and sugar can turn into comfort at its finest.
French toast is soft, golden, familiar. Torrija is richer, soaked, often perfumed with cinnamon and citrus. Both are about rescue. About care. About not wasting something that still has plenty to give.
We took pandoro and turned it into a frittella.
The pandoro pieces were gently soaked in whipped egg, cream and cinnamon, then fried until golden and crisp on the outside, soft and custardy inside. Already good. But we didn’t stop there.
To serve it, we built everything around cedro — intensely aromatic, generous, slightly wild.
The peel was cut into fine julienne and slowly cooked in water and sugar, then finished with a touch of honey. The syrup became glossy, deeply citrusy, almost hypnotic. That warm, fragrant syrup was poured over the freshly fried pandoro.
For the curd, we used the white part of the cedro — slightly bitter, often overlooked. First blanched to soften it, then slowly cooked with syrup and cream until tender. Once blended, it turned into a surprisingly smooth, deeply satisfying curd. Complex, balanced, comforting.
Whipped cream on the side. Everything served together only when all the elements were soft, warm, ready.
Is this the dessert to prevent diabetes?
Absolutely not.
But sometimes it’s nice to exceed — with control. And then maybe add an extra half hour at the gym. That’s the price of guilty pleasures, and honestly, we’re fine with that.
As a restaurant takeaway in Stockholm, we know most places don’t really bother with homemade desserts anymore. And we get it — they’re time-consuming, delicate, not always convenient. But for us, they’re part of the same philosophy as everything else: cooking from scratch, giving value to what already exists, and treating leftovers with respect.
Because comfort food doesn’t always start from perfection.
