Ode to a Cheesecake

We all of us have an edible weakness - whether it be steak, Cadbury’s chocolate or caviar.  We all enjoy a specific foodstuff that makes one’s taste buds tingle with eager anticipation when one glimpses it on a menu.

My weakspot is cheesecake.

And I warn you, Mum, this letter is a dedication to the delicacy rather than a usual ‘Dear Mum’ epistle.

I can fully appreciate why some individuals are not a fan of the creamy dessert. It does seem perverse that a dessert’s chief ingredient is something that one previously enjoyed in a sandwhich, or on toast, or in a pasta dish.

But on a thick biscuit base, perhaps with a coulis or a few slices of fruit, that creamy cheese mixture is simply splendid.

It doesn’t matter how many calories I’ve eaten that day, or what the cost, if I spot a cheesecake on a menu or shop shelf my decision is already made for me.

Passion fruit, strawberry and champagne, fig and caramel, raspberry and white chocolate, New York vanilla with blueberry compote...

I’ll look at it with a yearning that can otherwise be equated to romantic desire.

Similarly when relishing the dessert it is me and that cake alone in the room. All other chatter is irrelevant, all other desserts are inferior, and I will end our sweet rendezvous with an analysis for the benefit of my fellow diners.

Points of discussion include ratio of cheese to biscuit base (the best cheesecake has a thick biscuit foundation); texture of cheese topping (not too wet, dry or stodgy, of course); the success of other ingredients (such as sauces, added textures etc.) and, crucially, the size of slice.

Pippa nails it by serving me two slices of cheesecake rather than one single large one, knowing that no matter how beautiful the cheesecake, the larger and more representative of a door stop the more likely I feel sheer terror. Needless to say I will still eat the cheesecake slice but will progress to feel distinctly nauseous.  

And on those rare occasions when I can’t manage a full slice (the only memorable occasion being at the Hard Rock Café, when a vat of nachos and burger weighing that of a discus inhabited my stomach) an hour later I am guaranteed to experience intense feelings of shame, regret and bafflement.

There is, however, one other memorable occasion...

I cooked a meal for Nat at uni and she (wisely) provided a cheesecake (strawberry) for dessert.

At this stage I had a housemate who was infamously tight with money; she willingly paid fistfuls of cash for sailing lessons but did not identify the need to reimburse her friends for luxuries like toilet paper and hot water. Upon recognising a give-away she was nothing but free, friendly and totally famished.

Nat and I ate a third of the cheesecake between us and arranged another night in to finish it.

Plans fell through, however, and when the outer edges of the cheesecake began to turn a transparent colour, I rang to ask “Do you mind if I go ahead and finish it?”

“My God!” she replied “You’ve gone a good three days without touching it? Very restrained!” (My thoughts exactly) “You go ahead.”

Upon removing the cheesecake from the fridge my housemate appeared from nowhere and nonchantly trailed after me - and the cheesecake.

“Watch and weep” I thought as I scooped chunks of creamy deliciousness from the dish, ensuring I ‘hmmed’ and ‘ahhed’ lots (not difficult).

I sat balancing the cheesecake on my chest so as to catch any crumbs and provide a stretched surface area of the stomach to improve digestion.

Green eyes weighted with greed flickered at me.

My housemate channel hopped, distracting herself I thought. But in a tactful move she settled upon 'Embarrassing Bodies.'

This was a well judged manoeuvre.

I had a quarter more to go.

It played to her strength that this particular episode was about genitalia and the word ‘cheese’ was used in discussion. I battled forth but upon meeting Scott and his eighteen month problem I pushed the cake across the coffee table.

“I give in, its yours,” I groaned, defeated.

Delighted, she threw the remote at me.

Very well played...