Fiadone is not your New York cheesecake. There’s no biscuit base, no towering height, no sticky swirl. What it has is brocciu — Corsica’s beloved sheep’s milk cheese — and just enough lemon to recall the orchards near Patrimonio.

 

It’s a cake that feels more like a custard. Golden on top, trembling within. Traditionally baked for Easter, but now a quiet presence in Corsican homes year-round, usually served cold and in slivers — because even something simple deserves ceremony.

 

We first tasted it at a farmhouse lunch near Corte, under fig trees and drying laundry. The hostess sliced it without fuss and poured a small glass of liqueur de myrte to go with it. “Pas trop sucré, hein?” she asked. Not too sweet, right? She was right.

 

🍋 The Recipe: Fiadone

 

Serves 6–8

Time: 15 min prep + 45 min bake

 

Ingredients

 

• 500 g brocciu (or substitute with well-drained ricotta)

• 4 eggs

• 100 g (½ cup) sugar

• Zest of 1 large lemon (untreated)

• 1 tbsp liqueur (optional: myrtle, limoncello, or pastis)

• Butter and flour for the baking dish

• Optional: icing sugar or lemon zest to garnish

 

Method

 

Preheat your oven to 180°C (350°F).

Butter a 20 cm (8-inch) round cake tin and dust it lightly with flour.

 

In a large bowl, whisk the eggs and sugar until pale and slightly foamy. Add the brocciu and beat gently until smooth. Stir in the lemon zest and liqueur, if using.

 

Pour the mixture into the prepared tin and smooth the top. Bake for 40–45 minutes until puffed and golden, with a slight jiggle in the center.

 

Let cool completely in the tin, then refrigerate. Serve chilled, sliced into rustic wedges. It’s even better the next day.

 

🍷 Wine Pairing

 

A chilled glass of Muscat du Cap Corse is the island’s most natural match — floral, lightly sweet, and just enough acidity to brighten the creamy texture of the fiadone.

Alternatively, a spoon of liqueur de cédrat or a herbal Corsican digestif will carry you to the terrace under the stars.

 

🌿 A Note from the Table

 

Fiadone is a whisper, not a shout.

It doesn’t pretend to be anything more than what it is: local cheese, fresh eggs, a little citrus, and the warmth of a kitchen you’ve never left, even if you’ve never been.

 

And if you’re ever in Piana, after a hike through Les Calanche, and a café window smells like lemon and baked milk — follow it. Someone’s made a fiadone. Knock softly.