NS November 9th, 2008
Anyone who knows me well knows that my favourite dessert is cheesecake of the rich, creamy, New York style. No sauces, coulis, cream or fruit on top, just cheesecake by itself in all its delicious glory.
I try to only buy it occasionally, as a rare treat, but whenever someone comes for dinner and brings dessert they usually bring cheesecake, knowing how much I love it. When I went out to lunch with a few friends for my birthday this year, I ordered cheesecake for dessert. When I passed my driving test back in July, my best friend brought over — you guessed it — cheesecake. You could say it’s a well-known fact that I’m a sucker for a buttery, graham-crackery crust and a filling so ridiculously creamy and sweet that it strikes fear into the hearts of every nutritionist and dentist in the land. So it was a no-brainer when in a local grocery store last week I was offered a sample of their new range of cheesecakes. “Of course I want to try your new cheesecakes, lady! You are in the presence of a cheesecake connoisseur” I proudly informed her. I grabbed the miniature dish and spork proffered and prepared to chow down.
But wait. The samples on offer were not New York-style, they were caramel and chocolate. CARAMEL and CHOCOLATE. Oh, no no no. This would not do. The Noble Savage does not eat cheesecake that has been adorned with false embellishments not native to the original variety. I am far too suspicious of what they are trying to cover up. Is the crust not buttery enough? Is the filling made with an inferior cream cheese? Why am I being manipulated and distracted by fudge swirls, raspberry coulis and white chocolate shavings? What kind of sick, twisted plot is this?!?!
I narrowed my eyes at the lone bite of cheesecake that quivered before me, balanced precariously on that most wondrous of utensils, (whoever invented the spork is a GENIUS, by the way), contemplated its possible imperfections and calculated the likelihood of it disappointing my taste buds. Being in Britain (a land renowned for its unbelievably dry, tasteless, crappy cakes), my internal statistical analysis returned poor results and indicated that I was 86% likely to be left disillusioned by the experience and in need of a drink to wash down the dry, hardened crumbs. But it was Halloween and I was in high spirits, feeling adventurous and full of debauchery, so I took a gamble and took a bite of each.
HOLY FANTASTIC FUCKING CHEESECAKE, BATMAN!! It was so good my eyes rolled back into my head a little. I thought there might be a When Harry Met Sally moment, even. I was instantly converted to Cheesecakes With Stuff On Or In Them. I marched right over to where they were selling the actual cakes and bought one (caramel). That disappeared in a matter of two or three days. Then on Friday I picked up the chocolate one. There are only three slices left as of today and only one other person has had a (small) piece. I think I had two or three slices yesterday alone.
This morning I told myself it had to stop, this cheesecake madness, and vowed not to have any today. Lo and behold, while at my in-laws’ house for lunch, they served for dessert…cheesecake! I had two pieces of that one as well. I actually felt a little sick for awhile and thought I might be greeting it again on my knees in front of the toilet. It stayed down, thank goodness, but now I’m feeling like the lardiest lard-o lardass that has ever walked the planet. It was so worth it though.
I think my plan of action is going to be to finish off the chocolate one still in my fridge tomorrow and then call a moratorium on cheesecake-eating. I may have to enlist TNH’s help with this, though he won’t likely be with me in my moments of weakness at the store. I think a ‘Do not sell this woman cake’ poster with an incriminating picture of me stuffing my face might be in order.
