Inside Out Cheesecake, or, Thick-Crust, Perfect Cheesecake

If you're just tuning in, the Cheesecake Saga is an ongoing monthly project here on the blog, and in my kitchen. When I emptied out Eleanor's recipe box to sort through her recipes, it became immediately apparent that she had over a dozen recipes for plain cheesecake.

Thinking that was far too many recipes for plain boring cheesecake, I did some research and found that, unanimously, those who knew Eleanor best told me that cheesecake was her favourite dessert. In honour of Eleanor's favourites (and to avoid getting stuck making a dozen cheesecakes at the end of the Recipe Box Project), I decided I'd make one cheesecake each month. This cheesecake is number 8, and so far we've had some major flops as well as a few resounding successes.

I know you wouldn't think it based on the recipes I post here, but we honestly don't eat that many sweets in this house. I make a lot of desserts, but they usually go to friends or work or straight into the freezer after I have enough tastes to write a post about them. But the cheesecakes? Well, you can't freeze a cheesecake, you can't cut a cheesecake recipe in half (though that hasn't stopped me from trying), and try as you might, you can't preserve a cheesecake for more than a week in the fridge.

So what you need is a cheesecake test panel. Friends (like the Golden Girls), co-workers, or really anyone you can find who is willing to eat a slice of cheesecake as often as you make them. Lately all of mine have been going into work with Judson, who has an easier commute (and hungrier coworkers) than I do. This has an unexpected bonus in that they've tasted almost all of the cheesecakes I've made lately, so not only do they know which ones are intrinsically delicious, but they've also made up a scale for the best ones. (I don't think any of them would tell me if one of them was terrible, but I do enjoy the 'BEST ONE YET!' commentary I occasionally get).

Let's be honest. You could bake this crust up by itself and i'd happily eat it.

Over the last few months I've been afraid that I was so burned out on cheesecakes that I wouldn't be able to enjoy one more single slice for the rest of my life... but then this one came along, and I was devastated that I hadn't saved more than one slice for myself. You have to make this cheesecake. Even if you're on the fence about cheesecake in general, this will change your mind. The filling is custardy and sweet without being overly heavy, and the extra thick crust (on the top AND bottom!) makes it more like a crumble than a cheesecake. Plus, the inclusion of crushed pecans in the crust makes it more complex than just a simple graham cracker number, and the crispness perfectly complements the with the soft, melt-in-your-mouth filling. If you've been waiting for a cheesecake to make from this saga, this is it. It's even overshadowed my previous favourite, the slightly easier but much less interesting July cheesecake. Plus, the top crust covers up any bubbles or cracks that the top of your cheesecake acquires in the baking/cooling process, so it even looks nice if you take it somewhere (and, let's be real, you're not going to eat that entire thing yourself!).

There's a couple of substitutions included in the recipe as written below, because I don't think pot cheese still exists (though I would love to try to strain some cheese through a sieve), and I can't find zweiback anywhere in this country (and when I asked, I got crazy looks at the regular grocery store AND the Polish grocery store).

You can find the first seven (!) cheesecakes in the Index here, and you can find my very favourite one here.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. If you've been waiting for a foolproof, delicious, unique cheesecake to make from this project, bake this one, stat. Eleanor wouldn't steer you wrong, and neither, obviously, would I.

The recipe:

Thick-Crust, Perfect Cheesecake

the directions:
crust:

Beat egg white until stiff and set aside.
Whiz cookie crumbs in the food processor until mostly smooth.
Add nuts and pulse twice more just until broken up.
In a medium bowl, mix cookie/nut mixture with sugar and melted butter.
Separate half of the crust mixture and reserve for the upper crust.
To the remaining half, add the beaten egg white and spread in the bottom of a springform pan.

filling:

Preheat oven to 176C/350F.
Beat egg whites until very stiff.
Set aside and beat all other ingredients until very smooth.
Add egg whites and fold together gently (mixture will be very bubbly and airy).
Pour into prepared crust, sprinkle the other half of the crust mixture over the filling gently (some will sink, so just sprinkle evenly and gently).
Bake 45 minutes until the middle is just set, then turn off oven, leave the door cracked and allow to cool for 60 minutes in the oven.

the ingredients:
the crust:

1 ½ c rich tea or zwieback crumbs
½ c pecans, coarsely chopped
½ c sugar
½ c butter, melted
1 egg white

 

the filling:

1 ½ c sugar
16 oz mascarpone
16 oz cream cheese
1 c heavy cream
2 ½ tbsp flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
7 eggs, separated

Zucchini Nut Bread, or, Courgette Walnut Tea Cake

I found Eleanor's wartime ration books recently while looking through some old family photos. I'm fascinated by the way her young adulthood was completely transformed by the onset of World War II-- she dealt with rationing, a fiance at war, a manufacturing job... all things I will never face, and she did it with aplomb. The ration books, especially, are completely foreign objects to me: I don't understand how they work or how they were used, and most of all I don't understand why she was able to save two mostly-full books. Didn't she need the coupons inside? These were the conditions under which Eleanor learned to cook when she was in her early 20s. Eleanor was 18 when World War II began, and nearly 25 when it ended. That means that her formative cooking years were characterised by rations, Victory Gardens, and the complete lack of many 'luxury' ingredients that I consider staples. I think her style adapted accordingly: if you learn to cook during times of hardship, then maybe that becomes a skill you'll always have.

This recipe for Zucchini Bread (or, as it would be known here in Scotland, Courgette Tea Cake) has made it through three generations in my family: Eleanor made it for her family, my mom made it for me, and now I make it for us. It's easy to see why this recipe persists across generational boundaries: it's simple, affordable, and the ingredients are nearly always in season. Even during World War II, this recipe would have been more straightforward than many others because it contains no butter and no milk, and the courgettes included can easily be grown in most climates, so they wouldn't need to be transported very far. Plus, even though there's a large amount of sugar contained in this recipe, it also makes a huge amount of bread, so the payoff is definitely worth it.

Judging by the stains on this recipe, Eleanor must have made this bread many times, and I'm glad she did, because it was one of my favourite treats when I was growing up. (Right up there with my mom's pound cake and her macaroni and cheese... both of which she also nicked from Eleanor's collection). This bread is the kind of thing you can make on a Sunday and enjoy all week as a quick breakfast before you go to work. Or the kind of thing you can take to a sick friend to help them recover. It's just as good no matter whether you enjoy it with your bowling league (like Eleanor), with a cup of coffee and a crossword puzzle (like my mom), or at your desk with a latte during an early work morning (like me). I love adaptable recipes like this one, and I love that I can trace this recipe through three generations of my family. I may never have been able to make this recipe with Eleanor, but it's still special to me to know that I'm cooking the same things she did, seventy years later on a different continent.

I think that's the beauty of family recipes: they unite us across time and place, making our family history into bite-sized pieces that we can share across generations. My passion for family cooking is why I'm so glad to be participating in Project STIR, a cool new cooking project developed by fellow blogger Sarah Shotts. Project STIR is a series of documentary films launching this fall on Kickstarter. The films will follow Abuelitas, Nans & Mamaws passing down heirloom recipes in kitchens around the globe including countries like: Panama, New Zealand, Turkey, Croatia & England. Click here to learn more about how to be involved.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. This recipe is easy, versatile, and nearly foolproof. It's delicious as breakfast, a snack, or even as dessert. Best of all, it exemplifies everything I love about this project: it's a recipe passed down through the generations of my family that I'm now cooking in my Scottish kitchen under a totally different name... but still tasting just as delicious!

Check out Project STIR and all the cool stuff they are doing to make sure family recipes like this one are preserved for the future, and while you're at it, try this courgette bread-- you'll love it!

The recipe:

Courgette Walnut Tea Cake

the directions:

Grease and flour two medium loaf pans, or, like me, one large and one small loaf pan.
Preheat oven to 176C/350F.
Chop or break nuts into medium pieces.
Beat eggs, then gradually beat in sugar and oil.
In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and baking powder.
Add dry ingredients to egg mixture, alternating with zucchini/courgette.
Stir in nuts, vanilla, and raisins (if using).
Pour into loaf pans and cook on the bottom rack of the oven for 55 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in the middle comes out clean.
Remove from oven, let cool for 10 minutes, then turn onto a rack to cool.

the ingredients:

1 c walnuts
4 eggs
2 c sugar
1 c vegetable oil
3 ½ c flour
1 ½ t baking soda
1 ½ t salt
2 t cinnamon
¾ t baking powder
2 c zucchini/courgette, grated
1 t vanilla
1 c raisins (optional)

Treasure Cake

When I was a kid, we lived in Eleanor's house for awhile after my mom inherited it. I had my mom's old room, there were palm trees in the front yard, a grapefruit tree in the backyard, and a Spanish tile roof that sounded just amazing during thunderstorms. (There was also green shag carpet which devastated me when my parents removed it). The palm trees dropped tiny nuts that I loved to collect and pretend were pirate money, because clearly it took very little to amuse me. I'd collect giant buckets of them and bury them in our yard or in the playground across the street, and I thought they were awesome. I guess pirates and buried treasure are always awesome, but there's something especially awesome about them when you live in Florida where real pirates made their living and real pirate gold is still being found (at least according to every old man with a metal detector walking the beach after every tropical storm).

So obviously I was excited when I found this recipe for Treasure Cake. Surely it would have something to do with pirates, right? Even Judson got excited that it would be like a king cake and we'd get to bury toys in it. Alas, I thought, when I realised that the 'treasure' was actually just chocolate chips.

We've discussed, ad nauseum, how I, of the world's largest sweet tooth, somehow managed to marry a man who is completely indifferent to the wonders of desserts. Clearly I come by this sweet tooth legitimately, as there's nothing Eleanor loved as much as desserts...

...Which is why I was surprised to find this recipe in the box. I mean, it's a dessert, but it's kind of on the low-end of awesome desserts, since there's no frosting and barely any chocolate (or so I thought). Let not this description deceive you: this cake is a treasure

Hear me out on the list of attributes:

• It's frosting-free, which means you don't have to plan ahead in order to take it to an event (or even just to have it with dinner), because there's no cooling time to accommodate frosting it.

• This also means there are fewer dishes to wash.

• And it's significantly lower in sugar and fat than a frosted cake would be.

• Plus, maybe it's the beaten eggs or the relatively high amount of baking powder, but this cake rises in the oven to more than twice its original size... which means it somehow strikes the perfect balance between fluffy and cakey.

• And... if it's your birthday or a day for treating yourself, this cake makes a killer breakfast paired with a dark black cup of coffee.

• And last, it's stupid that it's taken me this long to realise it, so I'll just come out and say it: I'll take chocolate chips over chocolate cake any day of the week. Something about melting chocolate and then stirring it into the batter makes it lose that perfect chocolatey flavour, whereas sprinkling chocolate chips throughout a thick, buttery batter like this one leaves you with pockets of decadent melted chocolate, just bitter enough to counteract the sweetness of the cake.

Basically, if you don't like sweets, this is totally the dessert for you. And if you DO like sweets, then this is the kind of thing to make for a party where you don't know the audience very well and you don't want to alarm them by bringing something too heavy, decadent, or sweet (like the time I showed up to a party of grown-ups who didn't like sweet things with a giant platter of baked s'mores, which no one touched and I had to take home and eat all by myself, more's the pity).

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. If you're going through a cooking funk like I have been the last few days, this is the perfect, easiest recipe to get you out of it. It's simple, delicious, and versatile, plus, the recipe divides easily into two layers, or you can leave it all in one pan for an insanely high-rise cake. It's definitely best on the first day, but it last 3 days before getting dry.

The recipe:

Treasure Cake

the directions:

Preheat oven to 176C/350F.
Grease 2 round layer cake pans (or one, if you want your cake high like mine).
Cream butter, sugar, and vanilla thoroughly.
Add eggs and beat until light and fluffy.
Mix and sift together flour, baking powder, and salt.
Add to egg mixture, alternating with milk.
Beat until smooth and well-blended.
Mix in the chocolate chips with the last of the flour.
Pour into cake pan(s) and bake 30 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in the middle comes out clean.

the ingredients:

1/3 c butter
¾ c sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs, well beaten
2 ¼ c flour, sifted
3 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
2/3 c milk
¾ c chocolate chips (or 1 c if that's how you roll)