Cranberry Orange Cheesecake

Week 479, and the garden being planted, the asparagus arriving at the farm stand, the light returning. I am 68 years old and the days have a rhythm now — the morning writing, the afternoon visits to Cedarhurst, the evening cooking, the weekly blog post — and the rhythm is the structure, and the structure is the sanity, and the sanity is required because the rest of it, the losing and the loving and the carrying, requires a sane woman at the helm, and I am sane, mostly, except when I cry in the car in the Cedarhurst parking lot, which is not insanity but its opposite: the specific, targeted release of emotion in a contained space, which is the most rational thing I do all week.

Father's Day; three generations carving; brisket for Marvin. These are the facts of the week, the data points, the things I would put in a report if I were writing a report, which I am not — I am writing a life, and the life includes the facts but is not limited to them, because the life also includes the way the kitchen smells at six in the morning when the coffee is brewing and the challah is rising and the house is quiet and the quiet is both the grief and the peace, simultaneously, and the simultaneous is the condition, the permanent condition of a woman who is 68 and alone and not alone, who is a grandmother and a wife and a writer and a cook and a caregiver and all of these things at once, always at once, braided together like the challah.

I made brisket this week — because it was what the week needed, because the week always needs something and the something is always food, and the food is always the answer, and the answer is always the kitchen, and the kitchen is always mine, and the mine-ness of the kitchen is the one thing that has not changed in sixty-seven years of living, from Sylvia's kitchen on the Grand Concourse to this kitchen in Oceanside where I stand every morning and every evening and many of the hours in between, making the food that is the chain, that is the love, that is the thing I do when I don't know what else to do, which is always, and especially now.

I brought food to Marvin at the usual time. The visit was what visits are now — quiet, steady, the feeding by hand when necessary, the reading aloud always, the holding of the hand that may or may not know it is being held but that is warm and alive and present, which is the definition of love in this particular year: warm and alive and present. He ate what I brought. He received what I gave. The receiving is the relationship. The receiving is the vow. In sickness and in health, in recognition and in forgetting, in the recliner and in the kitchen, the receiving is the marriage, and the marriage continues, one container at a time, one visit at a time, one day at a time, at two o'clock, every day, because the chain does not break.

After the brisket came the sweetness — because that is the order of things, because the chain requires both the savory and the sweet, and because three generations around a table on Father’s Day deserves a finish that is as bright as the occasion is bittersweet. I made this Cranberry Orange Cheesecake for the same reason I make everything: the kitchen demanded it, and I listened. The cranberry is the tart, the orange is the light, and the cheesecake is the thing that sits on the counter and says: we are still here, we are still celebrating, the table is still set.

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Total Time: 5 hours (includes chilling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

For the crust:
1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
For the filling:
3 packages (8 oz each) full-fat cream cheese, room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
1/2 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons fresh orange juice
1 tablespoon orange zest
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
For the cranberry topping:
2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup fresh orange juice
1 teaspoon orange zest
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

Instructions

Prepare the oven and pan. Preheat your oven to 325°F. Wrap the outside of a 9-inch springform pan tightly in two layers of heavy-duty aluminum foil to prepare it for a water bath. Grease the inside of the pan lightly with butter.
Make the crust. Combine graham cracker crumbs, sugar, and melted butter in a bowl and stir until the mixture resembles wet sand. Press firmly into the bottom of the prepared springform pan in an even layer. Bake for 10 minutes, then remove and let cool slightly.
Make the filling. Beat cream cheese and sugar together with a hand or stand mixer on medium speed until smooth and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, beating on low after each addition just until combined — do not overbeat. Mix in sour cream, orange juice, orange zest, and vanilla until smooth.
Bake in a water bath. Pour filling over the cooled crust. Set the springform pan inside a large roasting pan and pour hot water into the roasting pan until it reaches halfway up the sides of the springform pan. Bake at 325°F for 55 to 65 minutes, until the edges are set but the center still has a slight jiggle.
Cool gradually. Turn the oven off and crack the door open. Let the cheesecake cool in the oven for 1 hour. Remove from the water bath, run a thin knife around the edge to release it from the pan, and cool completely on a wire rack. Refrigerate at least 3 hours, or overnight.
Make the cranberry topping. Combine cranberries, sugar, orange juice, orange zest, and cinnamon in a small saucepan over medium heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the cranberries burst and the sauce thickens, about 10 to 12 minutes. Remove from heat and cool completely before spooning over the chilled cheesecake.
Serve. Release the springform pan sides, spoon cranberry topping over the top, and slice with a clean sharp knife, wiping the blade between cuts for clean slices.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cranberry Orange Cheesecake — The Sweetness We Carry Forward