Babà al Rum Napoletano

The babà is not Neapolitan by birth, but it became Neapolitan by adoption, and in Naples it found its true home. A Polish king's accident became a French pastry, and French pastry became a Neapolitan obsession. The pasticcerie of Naples have been making babà for over two centuries, and they guard their methods with the same fierce pride they bring to everything worth eating.

This is a yeasted dough, enriched with eggs and butter until it becomes almost a batter. You beat it until your arm aches, or until your stand mixer protests. The gluten must develop fully before you add the butter, and then you beat it again. There are no shortcuts. The dough should be sticky, elastic, and alive with yeast.

The soaking is everything. A dry babà is a failure. The cake must drink the rum syrup until it can hold no more, until pressing it releases a stream of sweet, boozy liquid. Neapolitans test this by squeezing: if syrup runs down your wrist, it is ready. If not, soak it longer.

What you keep out matters here as much as what you put in. No vanilla. No citrus zest in the cake. The rum speaks alone, and it speaks clearly.