A sure sign that fall is here is the proliferation of Mont Blanc cakes in the pastry shops. Although the chestnut-flavored Mont Blanc is, like the strawberry cake, a perennial feature on any self-respecting Japanese cake display, chestnuts are as emblematic of autumn as strawberries are of spring, and the emphasis changes with the season. Some patisseries will add a special, limited-edition Mont Blanc to the lineup, alongside the one they sell all year around, and there are often a few shiny peeled chestnuts, with the spiny husks alongside, resting on the counter above the cakes for additional appeal. A popular way to shake things up is to substitute sweet potato cream for chestnut in the spaghetti-like swirl that is the classic Mont Blanc's distinguishing feature, and you'll find purple-skinned sweet potatoes, or artistic depictions of them at least, adorning those pastry counters.
Giotto is one of the fancy patisseries in the basement of Mitsukoshi that likes to have it both ways. The Mont Blanc they sell all year round is a sleek variation on the normal chestnut-cream nest, a rocketship-shaped tower of straightened piping, with a cookie jauntily sticking out the side. On the inside, the usual white cake with rum-flavored whipped cream is set atop a circle of vanilla-bean-specked custard pudding, and there's a layer of candied chestnuts between cake and cream. The outer piping of buttercream is made from two different varieties of French chestnuts, and is almost as tasty as peanut butter.
Giotto's fancy seasonal variation is the Gin-yose Mont Blanc, which employes not only chestnuts and sweet potatoes but chocolate as well. In the attempt to please every possible taste, it loses the cohesion that any pastry needs to succeed, but I must admit that each disparate element is delicious on its own. The triangles of chocolate and plain pastry are buttery and crisp, the gold-flecked candied chestnuts are moist and rich, the sweet potato cream is earthy, the whipped cream is smooth. The most memorable part of this cake, however, was the chocolate royaltine cookies sandwiching the cream at its base. Not your average butter-and-flour cookie, these are made of tiny specks of caramelized hazelnut wafers baked in a paper thin circle, then dipped in a thin coating of milk chocolate. I have never had anything like it - impossibly crisp, despite the cream, exploding with texture and nutty flavor, the royaltine is a discovery worth all the other elements of this unusual take on the Mont Blanc.
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