• Recipe's origins: Abbey's Infamous Cheesecake • Recipe's orginator: Abbey T. • Our hostess: Jenny of Jenny Bakes
The April 2009 challenge is hosted by Jenny from Jenny Bakes. She has chosen Abbey's Infamous Cheesecake as the challenge.
One of the lovely things about being a Daring Baker is I normally have at least one "real" reason to bake. It could be a friend's birthday or a fancy dinner party. This month is was my work anniversary.
Eight years. Good gravy.
I've developed a bit of a reputation of bringing in foods people would actually eat. Funny how there's a correlation between edibility and (as I deem it) "real" cooking/baking--as opposed to boxed cake mixes and Timbits from our office Timmy's. I don't know if this is the norm for the rest of you, but in our office, if it's your day you have to bring in the treats.
Totally unfair.
When I found out this month's challenge was cheesecake, I knew it would do well. When I found out we could play with the flavours I was torn. Do I do something "normal" -- fruity or boozey -- or do I do something that's a bit beyond normal?
Why be normal? It is my day after all, is it not?
After some thought and a bit of a consult with a colleague who's got a fairly good palate, I decided upon vanilla-lavender.
A bit daring, given many people don't think of lavender as a flavour, or if they do their only exposure was Thrills (aka: the gum that tastes like soap...and yes...I know it's supposed to taste like rose, but all the ones I had tasted like lavender) and they'd run screaming.
The cheesecake itself was easy to put together, but I felt some of the weight measurements were a titch off--for example, I thought the crust was far too oily so I added a couple of handfuls extra graham wafer crumbs, which helped to build "walls" of crust. The cheesecake itself was 2/3 vanilla and 1/3 lavender and I decided to not do a topping because I didn't want to overwhelm the delicate flavours. The flowers didn't impart much colour, so I added some hydrangea food colouring.
I've made many, many cheesecakes and most haven't cracked. I don't do a water bath normally--the one time I did it, it was...bad and it cracke. I didn't go back. But this challenge involved a water bath and well...I had do it. I swaddled the pan in tin foil, put it in my lasagne dish and poured in the boiling water. And hoped for a good result.
I am quite happy to say that the cheesecake turned out lovely. It was creamy and light and the flavour was so very, very good. Well...it must have been good. It disappeared within 40 minutes.
Here's the recipe, as I prepared it Abbey's Infamous Cheesecake: crust: 225g graham cracker crumbs 125ml melted butter 25g sugar
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (Gas Mark 4 = 180C = Moderate heat). Begin to boil a large pot of water for the water bath.
Mix together the crust ingredients and press into a high-sided 20cm (8") springform pan. Press the crust just into the bottom and up the sides of the pan too. Set crust aside.
Cream together 500g cream cheese and 140g sugar until smooth. Add two of the eggs, one of a time, scraping down the bowl in between each addition. Add 160 ml heavy cream, vanilla and 1 dspn lemon juice, and blend until smooth. Set aside.
Steep the lavender buds with the remaining 90ml cream for five minutes. Decant the to a bowl, keeping the buds in the cream for another five minutes; strain out the buds (or you can do what I did and put the buds in a tea ball at the very beginning...much easier). Set aside.
Cream together 250g cream cheese and 70g sugar until smooth. Add the remaining egg and scrape down the bowl's sides. Blend in the lavender-flavoured cream and 1tsp lemon juice.
Pour the vanilla batter in the prepared crust and then dollop in the lavender batter. Take a skewer or a teaspoon's handle and swirl together the two batters. Tap the filled pan on the counter a few times to bring all air bubbles to the surface. Place pan into a larger pan and pour boiling water into the larger pan until halfway up the side of the cheesecake pan. If cheesecake pan is not airtight, cover bottom securely with foil before adding water.
Bake 45 to 55 minutes, or until the sides are set but the centre is very jiggly. Close the oven door, turn the heat off, and let rest in the cooling oven for one hour. After one hour, remove cheesecake from oven and lift carefully out of water bath. Let it finish cooling on the counter, and then cover and put in the fridge to chill. Once fully chilled, it is ready to serve.
To see what the other Daring Bakers did, please visit our blogroll.
Being ill--not really, really ill, but the kind of ill that leaves one prone to whining and snuffling through days and and raspily breathing and used tissue-piling nights--makes me crave comfort. I want flannelette pyjama bottoms, fleece tops and thick, warm socks. I want layers of blankets and comforters piled on the couch. I want (but rarely get at such times) a purring cat withing petting reach...I really want a manly set of arms and legs at my beck and call for glasses of juice, the latest WFI and to summon the strength to change the channel (not even close to happening). Yup, I'm one of those people who is only still when she's bubbling snot, setting decibel records for sneezing and quite undecided if her vocal chords have taken a turn towards Demi Moore, Joss Stone or Bonnie Tyler. Heck, I've been known to put in more than a full day's work while bubbling snot, setting decibel records for sneezing while her vocal chords have taken turns at mimicking Demi Moore, Joss Stone and Bonnie Tyler.
I gravitate towards garlicky and peppery soups (tomato or cream of mushroom) and buttered toast. Easy, quick and pretty much instafood that still gives me the illusion of "cooking"--which is good, because I generally don't feel like eating. For the most part colds and flus leave me devoid of useful tastebuds. The only ones that seem to function are those that tell me everything tastes like the underside of a soap dish.
But I know I must eat, so whenever possible I gravitate towards the non-cooking option and order in. Chinese food, usually--hot and sour soup, pan-fried dumplings, General Tsao chicken, extra spicy kung po broccoli and beef, thick noodles with veggies, and mushu veggies...Vast quantities of food--far too much for one person who has no interest in eating--prepared in a not so far off kitchen are temporarily stored in the fridge, steadily consumed over the course of a week.
I'm a firm believer that food is healing. Garlic, pepper, ginger--all good and good for you. When I'm snuffling, the hotter, the better. Which is probably the basis of one of my foodish superstitions: I won't begin to feel better until I have one of my special sandwiches, Death Rain potato chips, a bottle of Jones Blue Bubble Gum soda and a Nanaimo bar.
This combination evolved over time--Death Rain and Jones sodas weren't around when I started this little ritual--but the sandwich and the Nanaimo bar remain.
The sandwich, which has been referred to by friends as "Jasmine's special sandwich" is, by most accounts, inedible. The ideal sandwich was first perfected at a now defunct local build-your-own sandwichery. I think my most successful version was roast beef, turkey, cheddar, lettuce, onions, hot peppers, spicy mustard, horseradish, onions, dill pickles and butter on an onion bun. Now I have a version made at the swankyfoodery: shaved rare or Angus roast beef, cheddar, lettuce, onions, pickles, horseradish, "the bomb" (a house blend of predominantly red, hot and oily things), roasted peppers, aubergines and sundried tomatoes on the bread of the day. It's not quite as good but it usually works.
But I think the key is having a Nanaimo bar as my sweet. More often than not, if it's missing the cold will drag on...and on...and on.
So when I endured the never-ending cold I went in search of the sandwich, the chips, the soda and the sweet. The iconic Canadian bar cookie was nowhere to be found. Not at the swankyfoodery, the mediumscarymegamart, any of the Tims on my way from the swankyfooderie to the mediumscary megamart (four), nor the sub shop that used to sell Nanaimos as big as my face. So I didn't have the Nanaimo bar. And the cold took up residence for nearly two months.
When I felt well enough to face pulling ingredients together, I made a batch. It's easy and mostly no-cook. Within a day or two I was less snotty, emitting the daintiest of lady-like sneezes and my voice...well, my voice has alwasy elicited certain comments from men...
Nanaimo bars: the miracle cure for the uncommon cold.
Melt butter, sugar and cocoa in a bain marie. Add the egg and stir until the mixture coats the back of a wooden spoon. Remove from heat. Stir in crumbs, coconut, and nuts. Press firmly into an ungreased brownie pan (20cmx20cm/8"x 8").
Second Layer 110g unsalted butter 4dspn (40ml) heavy cream 2 Tbsp vanilla custard powder 250g icing sugar Cream all the above together. Spread over the cocoa layer.
Third Layer 100g semi-sweet chocolate 2 Tbsp. unsalted butter Melt chocolate and butter overlow heat. Cool. Once cool (but still liquid) pour over second layer and chill in refrigerator. Once set, cut into as many pieces as you wish.
A few weeks ago I mentioned how I...umm...encouraged my cold to return. Some of you asked me how one does that (the reasons, I hope, are so you won't do the same...as opposed to taking glee in my...well, "stupidity" is an awfully harsh word for it).
As some of you know, I've dipped my toe back into fetid waters known as "dating."
I've never been "good" at it and really didn't know what to expect. Which is why, as incredulous as it sounds, in September I actually met a very dear, sweet man who not only interested me, but he seems to have taken an interest in me. We had a lovely time together, but long story short, his life imploded a few weeks ago and he asked for time to deal with what The Fates dropped on him. We have left each other messages and spoken to one another in these few weeks, but still...it's a little bruising...at times it feels more than a little bruising.
Of my many wonderful friends is a phenomenal woman. I've mentioned her family before--remember Baby Bella's ice cream extravaganza? This is mummy of Baby Bella. The family was in what turned out to be the first couple weeks of an extraordinary six week boiling season, and she invited me up to her sugar shack to have a tramp through the woods, take in the heady aromas of boiling maple sap, clear my head and have a good think about life, the universe and everything.
The sugarbush is about an hour north-ish of here, and although she suggested I wear my woolies...Well, I didn't wear enough of them and my cold revisited for (thankfully) a short duration.
Really, it's a magical little place--a virgin maple bush where the summer sees it carpeted with green, including ramps and wild trilliums. That day there were no wildflowers or onions, but the remnants of winter were still on the ground, but you could smell the cedar smoke in the air and see the plumes of steam and smoke ascend above the tree tops. It's quiet--far enough from larger towns to remind you of what tranquility really is.
Inside the sugar shack are whorls of maple and cedar-scented steam. Above a three-channel evaporator, heated by cedar wood fresh sap is poured into the beast at one end, and boils, bubbles and makes patterns vaguely reminiscent of satellite images of great water-born storms. I was able to capture a very short (five-ish second) video of it...really, it was quite like those dances where lasers illuminated the swirling wind currents evidenced by dry ice fog (gosh...am I dating myself with that reference)?
I helped bottle about two gallons of syrup (and I have a quart of the special Jasmine bottling, as I'm calling it--yes, it's the bestest syrup ever), we sat in the little cabin next to the sugar shack (no: no hydro or water their either, but there is a wood stove which kept things mighty warm) sipping warm, fresh syrup from china teacups while discussing the recent turn in my life. Baby Bella's grandfather believes maple syrup can cure anything...and for a few hours that day, I certainly felt a lot better.
The sugar shack was built in the late 1800s by one my friend's ancestors and the property has stayed in the family throughout (except for a few years). Back in its family's hands, it took a few years to recover from the logging its temporary owners indulged in, with last year being the first year the remaining trees started giving sap. This year they truly made a go of it.
The nights have to be below freezing and the days just above to get the sap flowing from spiles into buckets. She and her family then collect the clear, sweet liquid by hand (none of that intravenous-like rubber tubing you see at some larger sugar bushes) and then is poured into a century's old evaporator. The sugar shack itself is quite rustic--no electricity, phone or running water (there's an outdoor privvy, when needs must)--when they are in the throes of "midnight boils", they work by candlelight wrapped in old quilts. Thus far, she and her family have produced more than 40 gallons of syrup. (update: by season's end they produced more than 50 gallons of syrup)
What I think makes it special--well, apart from it being made by friends are a couple of things. The first is how they fire the evaporator. Instead fuelling the fires with maple or old tires (as some producers do), they use cedar which imparts a bit of its flavour in the syrup. The other thing is, this is a way of life which is slowly disappearing from the area. These small family sugar bushes are dwindling, making way for what someone somewhere designated as "progress," leaving larger, more corporate producers to streamline procedures and do what corporate types do to things that are just simply...good. You can read more about sustainability and maple syrup production here.
My friend's family is continuing to make maple syrup in the way it was done more than a century ago, as part of the farm enterprise. Back then sugar was an imported expense and maple syrup, in its various strenghts was a local and affordable natural sweetner that could last a year or longer.
They've decided to bottle syrups highlighting the seasonal variances of the sap, including an unusual "Sharp Frost Amber": an especially caramelly syrup which followed a sharp freeze. Rather than homogenizing syrup in vats (by mixing sap harvests from several days) - to reduce the daily and seasonal variations - they've specially preserved the individual characteristics of the batches as the season progressed.
If you're interested in getting some syrup, let me know (the email address is on the side) and I'll pass on your request, they are selling it at reasonable prices ($10 for 500ml).
Each bottle comes with one of four family recipes--I've selected one to prepare and share with you.
Grandpa's Johnnycake recipe courtesy Kim Love 1 egg 7/8c (220ml) milk 1tsp vanilla 5Tbps (75ml) melted butter 1/3c (65g) brown sugar 1c (130g flour 1 Tbsp (heaping) baking powder 1/2 tsp salt 1c (160g) cornmeal
Preheat oven to 200C/400F. Butter a brownie pan (20cmx20cm/8"x8") or a cast iron pan of a similar proportion.
Lightly whisk together the egg, milk, vanilla and melted butter. Stir in the brown sugar.
Sift together the remaining ingredients. Form a well, so you have a hollow that's protected by a mountain range of the cornmeal-flour mixture. pour in the wet mixture and mix until just combined. uyour wet ingredients well.
Pour into prepared pan and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until an inserted skewer comes out clean and the top is slightly dappled with brown.
Serve hot with butter and maple syrup.
"This is Grandpa Love’s favourite way to enjoy fresh maple syrup."
• Recipe's origins: Abbey's Infamous Cheesecake
