Easy Cheesecake — The Dessert That Holds the Table Together

Sophie texted a photo of Ingrid eating limpa bread. Ingrid is two. The bread is in both her hands. She is grinning. The line continues. The line is not metaphysical. The line is the bread, in the hands, going into the mouth, of a child whose great-great-grandmother brought the recipe across an ocean. The line is the bread. Sophie is pregnant again. Another baby. Due next year. I will be a great-grandmother of two. The cheat sheet on the refrigerator is going to need updating. I have a small piece of graph paper taped inside the pantry door with a family tree on it. I update it after every birth, every wedding, every death. The paper is folded at the corners now and slightly yellowed at the edges. The tree has many branches. The branches keep coming. Sophie's daughter Ingrid is walking now. She walked across the kitchen and grabbed my leg and looked up at me and said "Mor" — the Swedish for grandmother. Sophie is teaching her Swedish, or as much Swedish as Sophie remembers, which is enough for the basics. Ingrid said "Mor" with the perfect Swedish O, the rounded back-of-the-mouth O that only a child still learning sounds can pronounce. I cried. Sophie cried. The dog watched us with the patience of a saint. Julbord prep is in full force. The list is on the fridge. The pickled herring is ordered (three varieties — mustard, dill, onion — from Russ Kendall's, delivered next week). The meatballs are scheduled (Wednesday before Christmas Eve, sixteen pounds of beef and pork, the kind of cooking marathon that requires water breaks). The kitchen is at war with December and December is losing. The kitchen has been winning this war since 1990. The kitchen will win again. I cooked Rice pudding with hidden almond this week. Short-grain rice cooked in milk with a vanilla bean and sugar. One almond hidden inside. Whoever finds it has good luck for the year. Mamma's pudding. Now my pudding. Now Sophie's pudding, eventually. I made the soup. Fifty gallons. I served the soup. A hundred and twelve plates. I came home tired. I came home good-tired. The Thursday tired. The right tired. I sat on the couch with Sven and a glass of wine and I did not move for two hours. The body wants this kind of tired. The body has wanted this kind of tired for thirty years. I thought about Lars this week. He has been gone since 1979. The grief is old, but it is not gone. The dead do not leave. They just become quieter. Lars at twenty was funny in a particular sideways way that nobody else in the family was funny. He could make Pappa laugh, which nobody could make Pappa do. He has been gone forty-five years. I still hear his laugh sometimes, when Erik is laughing in a particular way, or when Peter accidentally tilts his head the way Lars used to. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. Mamma used to say: "En människa är vad hon ger." A person is what she gives. She said this in Swedish so often that the phrase still sounds in my head in her voice. I think about it daily. I think about what I have given, and what I have not given, and what is still to give. The accounting is mostly favorable. The accounting is, in some ways, the only accounting that matters. It is enough.

The rice pudding is Mamma’s, and it will always be Mamma’s first — the hidden almond, the vanilla bean, the short-grain rice going soft and white in warm milk. But there are weeks when the Julbord list is already full and December is already winning and what the table needs is something that can be made without the marathon, something that still says you are welcome here, sit down, there is sweetness. This cheesecake is that thing. I made it the same week I cooked for a hundred and twelve people, the good-tired week, and I put it in the refrigerator and sliced it cold the next morning with Sophie on the phone and Ingrid making noise in the background, and it was exactly enough.

Easy Cheesecake

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 4 hours 15 minutes (includes chilling) | Servings: 10

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar (for crust)
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 3 packages (8 oz each) cream cheese, softened to room temperature
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar (for filling)
• 3 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/4 cup sour cream
• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

Instructions

1. Prepare the oven and pan. Preheat oven to 325°F (163°C). Wrap the outside of a 9-inch springform pan tightly with two layers of heavy-duty aluminum foil to prevent leaking.
2. Make the crust. In a medium bowl, combine graham cracker crumbs, 1/3 cup sugar, and melted butter. Stir until the mixture resembles wet sand. Press firmly and evenly into the bottom of the prepared springform pan. Bake for 10 minutes, then remove and let cool slightly.
3. Beat the cream cheese. In a large bowl using a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed, beat the softened cream cheese until completely smooth with no lumps, about 2–3 minutes. Scrape down the sides as needed.
4. Add sugar and flour. Add 3/4 cup sugar and the flour to the cream cheese, beating on medium speed until just combined and smooth.
5. Incorporate eggs. Add eggs one at a time, beating on low speed after each addition just until the yolk disappears. Do not overbeat — excess air causes cracking.
6. Finish the filling. Add vanilla extract and sour cream, mixing on low until smooth and fully incorporated.
7. Bake. Pour the filling over the cooled crust and smooth the top with a spatula. Place the springform pan in a larger roasting pan and fill the roasting pan with about 1 inch of hot water to create a gentle water bath. Bake at 325°F for 50–55 minutes, until the edges are set and the center still has a slight jiggle.
8. Cool gradually. Turn off the oven, crack the door open about 1 inch, and let the cheesecake cool inside for 1 hour. This slow cooling helps prevent cracking.
9. Chill. Remove from the oven and water bath. Run a thin knife around the edge to loosen from the pan. Cool on a wire rack to room temperature, then refrigerate for at least 3 hours or overnight before serving.
10. Serve. Release the springform sides, slice with a sharp knife wiped clean between cuts, and serve cold. Top with fresh fruit, a dusting of powdered sugar, or simply nothing at all.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 310mg