Why We Don't Soak Our Cashews
Every industry has a cheap version of itself. Ours runs on water.
That needs explaining, so let's start further back than you'd expect.
Nearly every raw slice starts with a cashew
If you've eaten a raw cheesecake, a no-bake slice or a dairy-free dessert bar, the creamy layer was almost certainly cashews. Ours included.
There's a good reason for it. Cashews are soft, mild and high in fat, which means they break down into something genuinely smooth and then firm up when chilled. Almonds turn grainy. Walnuts bring bitterness you can't hide. Cashews behave the way dairy behaves without being dairy, and very little else does that as well.
So that part isn't a secret. It's just not something anyone thinks to mention, because outside a commercial kitchen nobody would think to ask.
Where products split is where the cashew goes next.
There are two ways to use a cashew
The first is water. Soak raw cashews for a few hours until they soften, then blend them with more water into a paste. It's quick, it doesn't need heavy equipment, and it makes a small quantity of cashews go a long way. Water costs nothing. Cashews do. If you're making volume and watching your cost per unit, soaking is the obvious answer.
The second is nutbutter. Grind the cashews down until the nut releases its own oil and turns into a thick, smooth butter. Nothing added. It takes longer, it's harder on equipment, and you need considerably more cashews to fill the same tray.
We do the second one. We always have.
What the water actually does
Three things, and none of them are good.
It thins the flavour. Cashew is a delicate taste to begin with. Add water and you've spread the same amount of nut across more volume, so the layer tastes vaguely creamy rather than tasting of cashew. It's the difference between a coffee and the same coffee with an extra cup of hot water through it.
It softens the set. A cashew butter base sets dense. You get a layer that holds a clean edge, sits properly against a biscuit base and gives you something to bite rather than something that dissolves. Watered paste sets softer and looser, which is why so many raw slices go slumpy the moment they leave the fridge.
It shortens the life of the treat. Water is what lets things turn. A base made with added water simply doesn't hold as long as one made without it, which is why a soaked-cashew slice can taste tired well before you've finished the box.
Where you'll taste it
Our Lime & Pistachio, White Choc & Caramel, Mixed Berry and Tessamisu all start the same way: cashews, ground into butter, no water anywhere in the process.
It's why the creamy layer in a Tessamisu is dense enough to eat with a fork rather than a spoon. It's why Lime & Pistachio tastes like lime and pistachio and cashew, three distinct things, instead of one soft sweet blur. And it's why our slices are best eaten cold, straight from the fridge, where that density is at its best.
Why bother
Because the shortcut was never on the table.
We could make every one of these cheaper by soaking. The margin would be better and most people would never work out why. But we'd know, and eventually so would you, somewhere around the third slice when it didn't taste like much.
Real ingredients, no shortcuts. Nuts, cacao, dates, the good stuff. Handmade in Sydney since 2012, and made the slow way because the slow way tastes better.
Ridiculously clean. Properly indulgent.