Nutella Cheesecake

Valentine's Day. The eleventh Valentine's Day with Jessica, the eleventh year of loving the woman from Minnesota who cried at a taco truck and who has since become the most indispensable person in my life and in the life of a restaurant that does not yet officially exist but which exists in every spreadsheet, every contract, every email, and every carefully annotated clause that Jessica has produced over the last year. I made her dinner at home — not at Rivera's, not at the altar, at home. At our kitchen table. Because the kitchen table is where it started and where it lives and where it will always live, even after the restaurant opens and the altar becomes the outdoor kitchen of a restaurateur rather than a firefighter.

The menu: seared scallops with a mango-habanero butter (the Valentine's Day tradition, elevated this year because I have spent nine months in a professional kitchen and the skills have sharpened), a mesclun salad with a citrus vinaigrette, and for dessert, the crème brûlée that I attempted two years ago and burned and which this year I executed with the torch control of a man who has been playing with fire for thirty-eight years. The crème brûlée was perfect. The sugar cracked under the spoon. Jessica said, "You've been practicing." I said, "I have a professional kitchen now. I practice everything." She said, "I wasn't talking about the crème brûlée." She was talking about our marriage. The marriage that has survived 48-hour shifts and two kids and a restaurant dream and a business plan that Jessica calculated down to the penny. The practice is showing up. The practice is making dinner on Valentine's Day. The practice is never stopping.

A food blogger from Phoenix New Times contacted us this week — she wants to do a pre-opening feature on Rivera's. An interview with me, photographs of the kitchen, the story of the firefighter-turned-pitmaster. Jessica managed the communication (because Jessica manages all communication, because Jessica is better at communication than I am, because I would have responded to the email with "sure, come by" and Jessica responded with a three-paragraph pitch that positioned Rivera's as a story about family, fire, and the American dream). The interview is scheduled for next week. The story will run two weeks before the soft opening. The timing is Jessica's design. Everything is Jessica's design.

The countdown: five weeks. The spreadsheet is down to forty-one items. The kitchen is ready. The staff is ready. The food is ready. The story is ready. The only thing that is not ready is my heartbeat, which accelerates every time I think about March 15th and the door opening and the first customer walking in and the first plate of brisket leaving the kitchen. Five weeks. The fire is patient. I am not.

The crème brûlée was mine this year — really mine, for the first time — but the dessert that lives in my head as the one I want to make for Jessica again and again is something richer, something that requires no torch and no drama, something that lets the Nutella do the talking the way she always lets the numbers do hers. This cheesecake is what I’d make on the twelfth Valentine’s Day, and the thirteenth: deep, unapologetic, built on a foundation that holds. After eleven years of practice, I know a good foundation when I see one.

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes (plus 6 hours chilling) | Total Time: 6 hours 25 minutes | Servings: 10

Ingredients

For the crust:
24 Oreo cookies (about 2 1/2 cups crushed)
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
For the filling:
16 oz (2 blocks) full-fat cream cheese, softened to room temperature
1 1/4 cups Nutella, divided
1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream, cold
For the topping:
1/4 cup Nutella, warmed until pourable
1/4 cup chopped toasted hazelnuts (optional)
Shaved dark chocolate, for garnish

Instructions

Make the crust. Pulse Oreo cookies in a food processor until fine crumbs form. Add melted butter and sugar and pulse until the mixture resembles wet sand. Press firmly and evenly into the bottom and 1 inch up the sides of a 9-inch springform pan. Refrigerate while you prepare the filling.
Whip the cream. In a large chilled bowl, beat the cold heavy whipping cream with a hand mixer on medium-high speed until stiff peaks form, about 3—4 minutes. Set aside.
Beat the cream cheese base. In a separate large bowl, beat the softened cream cheese on medium speed until completely smooth and no lumps remain, about 2 minutes. Add 1 cup of the Nutella, the powdered sugar, and vanilla extract. Beat until fully combined and silky, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.
Fold and combine. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold the whipped cream into the Nutella–cream cheese mixture in two additions, folding just until no white streaks remain. Do not overmix — you want to keep the filling light and airy.
Fill the pan. Pour the filling over the chilled crust and spread into an even layer with an offset spatula or the back of a spoon. Tap the pan gently on the counter to release any air bubbles.
Chill. Cover the pan loosely with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 6 hours, or overnight. The cheesecake must be fully set before slicing.
Top and serve. When ready to serve, drizzle the warmed Nutella over the top in a circular pattern. Sprinkle with toasted hazelnuts and shaved dark chocolate. Run a thin knife around the inside edge of the springform ring before releasing it. Slice with a clean, sharp knife, wiping between cuts for clean edges.

Nutrition (per serving)

Nutella Cheesecake — The Dessert That Proved the Practice Is Showing Up