(The Adventures of Commander Cheesecake)
My husband made a wish. He doesn’t wish out loud often so when he does, I take note.
His wish was that I could learn to make cheesecake.
Now I consider myself a very good cook. (I could give you several pages of discerning references.) But cheesecake has been an issue for me for many years now. My first attempt at cheesecake was horrendous! It was grainy and not at all tasty. It was rubbish and went straight to the garbage can after the first taste. I made a few tweaks and tried again. More garbage. I tweaked and trashed one more time. I finally gave up. That was six years ago. Now my dear husband, who asks for so little, wants me to try again.
OK, but this time I’m going at it like a military operation!
Step 1: Recipe. I’ve spent several days reading up on cheesecake. (Yes, there is reading to do.) I passed on Betty Crocker, Better Homes and Gardens and the Joy of Cooking cheesecake recipes. I decided that the people who know cheesecake best are the people who make the cheese. I went to www.Kraftfoods.com. After reviewing several cheesecake recipes, the choice was clear. You don’t give a rookie a big gun on his first day and you certainly don’t attempt a Chocolate Chunk Macaroon Pie Cheesecake on your first cheesecake try! No, my strategy called for mastering the basics first and that meant…
New York Style Cheesecake
Yes, the grand-daddy of them all. The New York Style. Made with all the fat and calories that one cake can possibly pack in. Known for its density and richness, this bad boy was going to make my husband sick one way or another. Either I’d have a loser on my hands and he’d spit it out or I’d do it right and have a confection so rich that he couldn’t stop eating and his stomach wouldn’t know what hit it.
This was it. I had faith in the recipe. It was created by Philadelphia. No, not the city, but the people that make the cream cheese. Yeah, I knew Philly wouldn’t lead me wrong. I printed the recipe and, just like a soldier’s Operations Order, I read it twice. Then I read it a third time for good measure.
Step 2: Shopping. You don’t take the time and effort involved in making a cheesecake without ensuring that you are working with the best possible ingredients. If you want the best results, you’ve got to use the best ingredients. If I just wanted to slap together a cheesecake that was cheap and easy, I’d have bought a Jello Cheesecake Mix and called it done. No. I’ve done that before, but not this time. This time I’d conquer that specter that had been taunting me for years. I got my son’s jacket and shoes and off we went to the grocery store. I knew where everything was but I had a list and I wasn’t going to miss anything. Teddy wanted his stroller to move faster but we were on a mission that couldn’t be compromised by speed.
Honey Maid Graham Crackers: The real things, not the crumbs. Sure, there would be some left over and Teddy would probably prefer the Teddy bears or the sticks, but I suspected they were trying to throw my recipe with the lure of cutey-pie gimmicks. No, stand fast, soldier! The crackers. Not the crumbs, not the bears, not the sticks.
Real Butter: Not that oil whipped up with lots of air and artificial flavors to look like butter. No, I needed the real thing.
Philadelphia Cream Cheese: Sure, the store brand was cheaper but would it have the same texture, consistency and flavor? Take no chances. What about the lower fat version? Or the non-fat version? No. Flavor, texture and consistency must not be compromised for health! The original Philadelphia Cream Cheese was the only real choice.
Vanilla: You know, vanilla is actually expensive. Most people use imitation vanilla flavoring. What’s the difference, you ask? Here it is: Did somebody in Tahiti pick a vanilla bean off a bush and force the essential oils from it for that imitation vanilla flavoring? There you go!
Sour Cream: Ooh, ick, sour cream in a cake? You bet your sweet rolls, baby! Once again, texture, flavor and consistency are at risk here. I needed Breakstone’s Sour Cream.
OK, I’ve done my shopping. Now it is time to pay up and pack Teddy back into his car seat for the ride home.
Step 3: The Tools. You need an electric mixer for this job. If you don’t have an electric mixer – or arm’s like Arnold Schwarzennegger, you have no business making cheesecake. End of story. I get my bowls and mixer out and lay them out on the counter in their respective places. I get the blender out with its chopper attachment. I make crumbs of the Graham Crackers. They didn’t stand a chance.
What’s that at my leg? Ah, Teddy wants to see what is going on. I bring his high chair into the kitchen and place it where he can see everything but is safely out of harm’s way. You’ve got to think safety when you’re so engrossed in a project. What if he touches the oven? What if he opens the broiler and stuffs a toy inside? You smoke a Gouda, not a cheesecake. Teddy is all set now. He is happily playing hockey with a piece of string cheese and a cherry tomato.
I take inventory. I have my supplies. I have my tools. Teddy is safe. I’m ready for the battle ahead.
Step 4: The Test Run.
I don’t have a springform pan. You know, the kind that has the walls that buckle onto it. No springform pan for me. I’m not worthy. Not yet. Those are for people who know how to make a cheesecake. I’m a rookie. It’s a glass 8”x13” pan for me. It’s all I deserve right now.
I make the bottom crust and bake it as instructed. While it is baking, I attack the cream cheese. No lumps. No nonsense. I’m taking no prisoners. I whip that cream cheese into submission and then add the other ingredients, slowly, as instructed.
By the time the crust and pan have cooled, I’ve got a bowl full of rich, creamy cheesecake batter that is ready for the oven. I pour it into the pan and become immediately aware that my kitchen counters are not level. What if my oven isn’t level either?! I’m taking no chances. I place a pizza stone on the oven rack and put the cheesecake on top of that. This way, if anything spills, it will likely not burn and smoke like it would on the oven floor. You smoke a Gouda, not a cheesecake. Smoky flavor could ruin everything!
Then comes the waiting. An hour and ten minutes of baking.
20 minutes pass.
Oh, the suspense! What’s going on in there? I can’t see! Turn on the light, doofus. I see. I see that I haven’t cleaned my oven and the window is all brown! I need to see the cake but I know that opening the oven could cause a terrible series of events. I restrain myself.
50 minutes pass.
I can’t stand it any more! I open the oven just a bit. Ahhh…it’s rising and getting a golden hue around the edges. All seems in order.
Finally, the timer goes off!
I gently take the cake out of the oven and place it on the counter to cool gently. I don’t cover it. The condensation could do terrible things. Like what? I don’t know! It just might! I stand there and watch the cake relax. It slowly settles back into itself. When the pan is cool enough to touch, I cover it with Glad Press’n Seal Wrap and place it carefully in the refrigerator. It still needs at least 4 hours of cooling in the refrigerator before it can be cut into.
Next day.
It looks like a cheesecake and smells like a cheesecake. My husband has been away and will return this evening. I wanted to save the first cut for him, but what if it’s a stinker? I can’t welcome my military man home with a nasty cheesecake! No, I need to test it first.
I cut carefully, mindful of the density and consistency. It feels like a cheesecake should.
I taste it. Good. Rich, but not too sweet. A little dry.
How could it be too dry? I cooked it for the proper amount of time.
AAARGH! ALTITUDE! I live in Montana! I should have taken altitude into consideration.
My husband will try it tonight and we’ll see what his verdict is, but I think it is too dry. Not so dry that I can’t serve it, just not moist enough to bring it to the Squadron Christmas Party and know that I’m knocking the socks off all the other wives.
This isn’t a battle. It is a war. I’ll live to bake another day.