New York Cheesecake

Marvin turned sixty-eight this week. July twenty-first. The annual cheesecake. The annual quiet dinner. The annual reminder that birthdays, for all their celebration of continuation, are also a counting — each one an addition to the total and a subtraction from the remainder. I do not think about the remainder. I think about the cheesecake, which is cream cheese and sour cream and eggs and vanilla and a graham cracker crust that is more butter than cracker, and the thinking about the cheesecake is sufficient. It is always sufficient.

David brought the children for a brief visit. Ethan, three, presented Marvin with a birthday card that consisted of a piece of construction paper with a blue scribble and the word "PAPA" in Jennifer's handwriting. Ethan believes he wrote it. Everyone lets him believe this. The illusion of authorship is a gift that costs nothing and gives everything. Marvin held the card and said, "This is beautiful, buddy," and the word "beautiful" was aimed at the card and at the boy and at the life that produced both, and the word was true.

Sophie, sixteen months, ate a piece of cheesecake and wore most of it on her face and dress and the tablecloth and, somehow, the dog next door. She is a maximalist eater. Sylvia would have approved of the appetite, if not the distribution.

I wrote about birthdays on the blog — about the specific joy of baking for someone who does not need the cake but needs the baking, who does not need the sugar but needs the sweetness, who does not need the occasion but needs the attention that the occasion provides. Marvin does not need cheesecake. Marvin needs to sit at a table and have his wife put something in front of him that she made with her hands, for him, because of him, in the shape of love that happens to taste like New York cheesecake. The cheesecake is the language. The language says: you are sixty-eight. I have known you for thirty-eight of those years. I have been baking for you for thirty-five. Every cake is a sentence. Every sentence says the same thing: I am here. I am making this. For you. Still.

After dinner we sat on the back porch. Fireflies. The warm Long Island evening. Marvin's hand in mine. "Another year," he said. "Another year," I said. We sat. The fireflies blinked. The cheesecake waited in the kitchen, half eaten, patient as a book on a shelf, ready for tomorrow. Tomorrow he will have another slice. Tomorrow the birthday will continue. Every day with Marvin is a birthday, in the sense that every day he is here is a gift. I count them all.

This is the cheesecake. The one I set in front of Marvin on July twenty-first, the one Sophie wore on her face and dress, the one that waited on the counter while we watched the fireflies. It is not complicated — cream cheese, sour cream, eggs, vanilla, a crust that is mostly butter — but thirty-five years of making it have taught me that the simplest recipes carry the most weight when you bake them for someone you love. Here is how I make it, every year, for him.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Total Time: 6 hours (includes chilling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

Graham Cracker Crust:

2 cups graham cracker crumbs (about 16 full sheets)
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

Cheesecake Filling:

4 packages (8 ounces each) cream cheese, softened to room temperature
1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
1 cup sour cream, room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
4 large eggs, room temperature
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Prepare the crust. Preheat oven to 325°F. Wrap the outside of a 9-inch springform pan with two layers of aluminum foil. Stir together the graham cracker crumbs, sugar, and melted butter until evenly moistened. Press firmly into the bottom and about 1 1/2 inches up the sides of the pan. Bake for 10 minutes, then set aside to cool while you make the filling.
Beat the cream cheese. Using a stand mixer or hand mixer on medium speed, beat the cream cheese until completely smooth and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl frequently — lumps now mean lumps forever.
Add sugar and sour cream. Add the sugar and beat on medium for 2 minutes until well combined. Add the sour cream and vanilla extract and beat until smooth, about 1 minute.
Add the eggs. Add the eggs one at a time, beating on low speed after each addition just until incorporated. Stir in the flour and salt by hand with a spatula. Do not overmix — excess air causes cracking.
Fill and bake. Pour the filling over the cooled crust. Place 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 1 hour and 5 minutes, until the edges are set but the center still jiggles slightly when gently shaken.
Cool slowly. Turn off the oven. Crack the oven door open and let the cheesecake cool inside for 1 hour. This slow cooling helps prevent cracks. Remove from the water bath, peel off the foil, and run a thin knife around the edge of the pan.
Chill. Refrigerate uncovered for at least 4 hours, or overnight for best results. Release the springform ring just before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

New York Cheesecake — Every Cake Is a Sentence