This was not the cheesecake I intended to make…

This is chapter two of the cheesecake eaters.

I said, and I hold true that “when you’re married to a cheesecake eater and they call for emergency dose, it’s only fair to respond as best as you can*.”

Which means, if you’re not thinking properly, and completely bodge up an age old base-recipe, then the shoddy version goes in the fridge and you really should try again.

NB, this doesn’t often happen on food blogs. There are pretty pictures. There’s stories of culinary triumphs. But in real life things often go pear shaped.

The hilarious thing, is that as the kind of person who sometimes takes photos of what I cook, it’s easy to mount a forensic mission and trace where it all went wrong.

This is the offending photo that shows me using a third of the amount of cream cheese that’s required.

Here you can see the refuse of the four eggs which went into the mixture.

Below there’s the lovely biscuit base. And a one armed attempt at a pouring shot.

And this is what happens when you pair 275 grams of cream cheese with four eggs.

It’s the bastard child of a frittata and a cheesecake. It doesn’t stand proudly, rather; it mopes and wallows, squat and egg-tight. I took a tiny wedge from the side and confirmed to myself. Yes, it does have a texture that’s much more like a soggy bathroom sponge, rather than a fluffy cake of fat.

I couldn’t bring myself to turf it. But I couldn’t bring myself to serve it.

There’s not a lot like having to shuffle back to the shops to buy cream cheese for the second time in a morning. It’s a very different walk of shame.

Luckily the second worked out fine.

But the day after there was still the lame cheesecake, blinking at me from the fridge. It had to find a purpose in this world. I’d spent a good 20 minutes stirring the caramel. I’d watched it lovingly through the glass of the oven. It’s texture was rubbish, but the taste was sound. It had to find a home.

And so it did. Out came a big tupperware and in went a litre of softened, cheap vanilla ice cream. I cut the cheesecake in half and took great satisfaction in trampling it with my fingers.

The cheesecake chunks- a heady mix of chocolate and ginger biscuit crumbs, sticky figs and cold squishy coins of cooked dairy and fat- got muddled through the ice cream and returned to the freezer.

That night we ate it as a side dish with the final slice of the winning cheesecake.

And you know what? It was pretty amazing. After a glass of wine I decided I’m calling it “Cheese-all right after all” ice cream.


“Cheese all right after all ice cream”

(Vanilla ice cream with salted caramel and fig cheesecake chunks)

Shopping/ foraging
1 litre tub of chain brand ice cream.
A badly made salted caramel and fig cheesecake.
(NB, make the recipe as per here, but instead of 800 grams of cream cheese, just use 275 grams)

Here’s how we roll
1. Make the cheesecake. Put it in the fridge for a day so it’s nice and chilled.
2. Take the ice cream out of the freezer for 4 minutes or so so it can soften. You want it to be pliable with a spoon.
3. Cut the cheesecake in half. Wrap the other half in foil and freeze it, so you can make the ice cream again sometime.
4. Destroy half of the cheesecake so there are pieces of cheesecake and crumbly base smaller than a coke bottle top.
5. Transfer the ice cream to a big tupperware or a bowl. Fold the cheesecake rubble through the ice cream.
6. Refreeze the ice cream.

This would be pretty great with a hot chocolate or caramel sauce, or a drizzle of Pedro Ximenex over the top. Or some grilled fresh figs.  Or just some chocolate sprinkles.

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  1. 'cheese all right' AHAHAHA you crack me up!

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