Tahini Coconut Tendercake with Tahini Mascarpone Frosting to celebrate a birthday...
Let me tell you about the man this cake is for
I don’t think my dad ever tasted tahini—much less in a cake. It wasn’t exactly the kind of ingredient you could stumble upon in the middle of the Amazon. I wonder how many days traveling by boat it would have taken for tahini to even reach there. My guest? At least 10.
But my dad tasted so many amazing things in his life, I bet. He only lived to 44, which feels absurd now that I’m 32 and doing the math. How much life can you pack into 44 years? Very little, it seems obvious. And yet, I like to think my dad managed to make the most of what he was given.
Like many who lose loved ones early, I often find myself wondering what they would think of the world today, as time is constantly reshaping the world as we know it: air fryers, the ever-shrinking airplane seats, TikTokers publishing questionable cookbooks... well, the rise of tahini on this side of the world, and somehow, Grey’s Anatomy still going strong.
Time passes, inevitably. So, in an attempt to keep even the tiniest piece of connection alive, I’ve created certain rituals, like baking my dad a birthday cake once a year. The flavors have changed drastically since he's been gone. At first, I’d make his favorite mocha cake, with a buttery Brazil nut sponge soaked in coffee and rum—a success! Then I started getting more adventurous, like the year I baked a somewhat odd beetroot red velvet with oolong tea cream cheese frosting—not a hit (no photos, either).
Now, I’m trying flavors I suspect he never got to taste, hoping to, I don’t know, tease him somehow. Like this tahini and coconut tender cake with mascarpone and tahini frosting + a date syrup glaze, which I'm convinced wouldn’t have been, let's say, his favorite.
Such an elegant cake, with its nutty richness, slightly savory depth, and unrefined caramel-like finish, would have been deemed too fancy for his simple, humble palate. But I know he’d eat way too many slices, hug me as tightly as ever, and, to encourage my baking dreams, tell me he’d never tasted anything better. He was a kind, kind human being.
It’s a really strange concept—baking for someone who has already left. Don't you think? But it’s my way of keeping the channel open. Sometimes I'm ashamed of even thinking about that, but a part of me is deeply scared that one day I might forget him.
So, I also talk to my dad in this peculiar, confidential way. I report to him the news from the future—what he’s missed and, more importantly, what he hasn’t. Given how often I repeat myself, he’s well aware of the political chaos we’re living through. Although I’ve never gotten an answer from him during these one-sided conversations (thank goodness, let’s keep it that way), I’m sure, knowing about my immigration struggles, he’s on edge for me.
While I’m confiding, I also think about what he would do, as if he were giving me real advice. That’s been my way of learning—by aging and by example—how to be a decent individual, how to strive to do good.
Even more so when I feel completely lost, like today.
I'm not only lost. I'm wounded, scared, and impossibly sad. But I have a refuge: when things get as ugly as this, I think about my dad.
He was humble, honest, resourceful, funny as hell. Incredibly creative, hardworking, a big dreamer, intelligent, and dedicated. A delightful companion. A fierce fighter for his beliefs and a protector of his people. He wasn’t the most romantic or dramatic person, but he always knew how to show just the right amount of emotion when it mattered.
Well, he cried a lot, both from sadness and happiness (and I certainly got that gene), but he was never ashamed of either. He wasn’t cheap with his love. He didn’t care for expensive things, and I never saw him showing off.
He loved and cared for children and had unwavering protection for animals, especially the abandoned ones. He was a man of faith, but he never imposed that on me—or on anyone. He never imposed anything on anyone. What he valued most about life was freedom, and he believed everyone should experience it.
He was an immigrant, and with that came a great deal of bravery. He fought poverty, hunger, endless tropical diseases, and dictatorship. Yet, what I learned most from him wasn’t about survival—it was about looking at others with kind eyes, offering generosity, and showing compassion, even when you are the one in need.
He fell in love with nature in the Amazon and, carefully—never disturbing the natural course of things—made our home there. He was a loyal friend to the people of the forest until his last days, and to our community: the quilombolas, the poor, the needy, the queer. This was at a time when most people preferred to pretend these people were invisible where I lived.
I grew up under the shadow of a giant—yet such humble—man who infused my being with transformative ideas of revolution and belief in oneself, quietly shaping the little village we built our community in—through kindness.
To this day, it's nearly impossible for me to return to my home state without someone approaching to say they knew my dad back in the day and how much he positively impacted their lives. Whether he cooked for them, drove them, or tended to someone's pain, he was the friend who, no matter what showed up.
So when he left us, as you might imagine, I felt a strong urge to leave my home for a while, to escape the constant reminders of who he was, because I couldn’t bear how much it hurt. And then I had to find a new home, rebuilding from scratch—wounded, scared, and impossibly sad.
Luckily, and because I truly believe I gained a guardian angel the day I lost my dad, I found my place—right here, right now. I plant my dreams, and I am blessed to have so many people around me who help water them all.
Today, when I hear that I don't belong and feel the pain of injustice toward those who aren’t as privileged as I am, I once again seek refuge in the best place I know. And I do my best to look at the other with kind eyes, offering generosity and showing compassion—even when I am the one in need.
No discourse in this world is enough to convince me to stop fighting for what I believe in or defending my people. I have all it takes to be just like my dad!
Te amo, Pai! Feliz aniversário!
Tahini Coconut Tendercake with Tahini Mascarpone Frosting and Date Syrup Glaze
Makes 12 slices
For the batter
200g (1 cup) turbinado sugar (or regular white sugar)
200g (1 cup) coconut sugar
120g (½ cup) coconut oil (melted)
180g (¾ cup) tahini
2 tablespoons vanilla extract
3 large eggs
Zest of 1 orange
240ml (1 cup) whole milk
180g (1 ½ cups) coconut flour
120g (1 cup) all-purpose flour
8g (2 tsp) baking powder
3g (½ tsp) salt
For the frosting
227g/8oz (1 cup) mascarpone cheese
60g (¼ cup) tahini
45g (3 tbsp) room temperature water to bloom the tahini (more to adjust)
45g (3 tbsp) date syrup or 45g (3 tbsp) coconut sugar
Date syrup to drizzle (as desired)
Preheat the oven to 325°F (165°C). Coat and flour a 9-inch round cake pan using coconut oil and flour.
In a large bowl, whisk together the turbinado sugar, coconut sugar, melted coconut oil (make sure it’s melted), vanilla extract, and tahini until smooth and creamy. Once fully incorporated, add the eggs one at a time and whisk until the mixture becomes relatively fluffy and light.
Add the orange zest and whole milk to the bowl. Whisk well to loosen up the mix.
In a medium bowl, mix the coconut flour, all-purpose flour, baking powder, and salt. Whisk gently, just to make sure there are no flour lumps.
Gradually add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, whisking continuously until the batter is smooth and fully combined.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan, smoothing the top with a spatula.
Bake for 45-50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean and your kitchen smells heavenly. Allow the cake to cool in the pan for 10 minutes before releasing it.
To make the frosting:
In a medium bowl, bloom the tahini by adding 1 tablespoon of room temperature water at a time, whisking constantly. The tahini may initially split, but as you add more water and continue to whisk, it will come together into a smooth, luscious, beautifully delicate texture. You might need more or less water, depending on the tahini you're using.
Now, to the bloomed tahini add the mascarpone, and date syrup or coconut sugar. Whisk gently until the mixture is just combined—be careful not to overwhip, as it may cause the frosting to split. If you're afraid, use a spatula.
Top the cake with the frosting once the cake has completely cooled to avoid melting. Drizzle the cake, making a circular pattern with date syrup.
Serving Tip: This cake actually tastes even better the next day, as it benefits from the moisture and flavors settling in.
At room temp: If you plan to enjoy the cake within 1-2 days, you can store it at room temperature. Place it in an airtight container or wrap it well in plastic wrap to prevent it from drying out.
In the refrigerator: If you need to store it for longer (up to a week), place it in the refrigerator. Keep it in an airtight container or wrap it tightly in plastic wrap to maintain moisture. The frosting may firm up a bit in the fridge, but it will still be delicious.
Freezing: Wrap it tightly in plastic wrap, followed by a layer of aluminum foil. Store in a freezer-safe container or bag for up to 2-3 months. Thaw at room temperature before serving.
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Beautiful and so heartfelt. Sending you my love. Thank you for sharing such a special part of yourself.
This is a lovely piece, and your annual ritual of baking a cake for your late father the sweetest of tributes.