Basque Cheesecake Recipe -- Because at Sixty-Two, You Bake What You Want

I turn sixty-two on Saturday. Sixty-two. The number doesn't scare me — no number scares me anymore, because the alternative to getting older is not getting older, and I have seen that alternative up close and I do not prefer it. Sixty-two means my knees are worse and my eyesight is weaker and the iPad screen keeps getting smaller even though Denise says it hasn't changed. But sixty-two also means I have cooked approximately 21,000 meals in my lifetime and I remember most of them, and that is a wealth no bank can hold.

Hurricane Harvey hit Texas this week. I watched the news and I cried in my kitchen, which is where I do most of my crying and most of my praying and most of my living. Those people in Houston, standing in water up to their waists, carrying children, losing everything. I thought about what I would take if the water came for my house. Hattie Pearl's skillet. Earl's recipe box. The journals. Willie James's photo. The things I would carry are the things that carry me.

First African took up a collection for Harvey relief. I baked: four dozen cookies, three pans of cornbread, and a coconut cake. The church shipped a trailer of supplies to Houston and I put my baked goods in it, which I know is not as useful as diapers and water bottles, but I believe that people who have lost everything need to eat something that tastes like someone cared, and cookies do that. Cookies say "I am three states away and I cannot carry your furniture out of the flood but I can make sure you eat something sweet tonight." It's not enough. It's something.

For my birthday, Denise took me to the farmers market Saturday morning. We walked through the stalls — the peach man, the tomato lady, the bread vendor with the sourdough that costs too much and is worth every penny. I bought late-season peaches and a jar of honey from a beekeeper on Skidaway Island. We got coffee and sat on a bench and watched people, which is my favorite sport and always has been. Denise said, "Happy birthday, Mama." I said, "Thank you, baby. Now take me home. I have a cake to bake." She said, "You're not supposed to bake your own birthday cake." I said, "And yet."

Earl gave me a new apron. Blue with white polka dots. Simple and perfect, like the man who bought it. I put it on over my pajamas that evening and wore it while I ate my own birthday cake — lemon pound cake, because that's what I wanted, and at sixty-two you eat what you want on your birthday and you don't explain it to anyone.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I mentioned lemon pound cake, and that’s what I made — but when Denise asked me later to write it all down, I thought about the deeper truth of that evening: standing in Earl’s blue polka-dot apron, eating cake I made for myself, not explaining it to a soul. That feeling — rustic, honest, a little imperfect on the outside and completely right on the inside — is exactly what a Basque cheesecake is. No water bath, no fussy crust, no apologies for the dark top. You put it in the oven, you trust it, and it comes out exactly as it should. On a birthday like this one, after a week of watching Houston flood and filling boxes for strangers and crying in my kitchen, that kind of uncomplicated grace felt like exactly the right thing to bake.

Basque Cheesecake

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 10

Ingredients

• 2 lbs (32 oz) full-fat cream cheese, room temperature
• 1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
• 4 large eggs, room temperature
• 1 1/2 cups heavy cream
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
• 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

Instructions

1. Heat the oven. Preheat your oven to 425°F (220°C). Line a 9-inch springform pan with two sheets of overlapping parchment paper, pressing it into the corners and letting it rise at least 2 inches above the rim. Don’t worry about making it neat — the wrinkles are part of the charm.
2. Beat the cream cheese. In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (or using a hand mixer), beat the cream cheese on medium speed for 2 to 3 minutes until completely smooth, scraping down the sides as needed. No lumps.
3. Add the sugar. Add the granulated sugar and beat on medium for another 2 minutes until the mixture is light and creamy.
4. Add the eggs. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Scrape down the bowl between each egg to keep things smooth.
5. Add cream and flavorings. Pour in the heavy cream, vanilla extract, and salt. Mix on low until fully combined, then increase to medium and beat for 1 minute.
6. Add the flour. Sift the flour over the batter and fold it in gently with a spatula, or mix on the lowest speed just until incorporated. Do not overmix.
7. Bake. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until the top is deep golden brown — nearly burnt-looking — and the center still has a significant wobble when you shake the pan gently. It will look underdone. That’s correct.
8. Cool completely. Remove from the oven and let cool in the pan at room temperature for at least 1 hour. The cheesecake will deflate as it cools; this is expected and correct. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or overnight, before slicing.
9. Serve. Remove the springform ring, peel back the parchment, and slice with a warm knife. Serve cold or at room temperature, plain. It needs nothing else.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 38g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 310mg