Peach Cheesecake

October. The trees are turning and the mountains to the east are catching fire with color and the drive to Evarts this weekend was the annual pilgrimage through the cathedral — red maples, gold poplars, bronze oaks, the whole palette of Kentucky autumn applied to three hundred miles of mountain road. Clay drove. He's been driving again since April, when his suspended license was restored. He drives carefully, which is the driving of a man who's been in an accident (the DUI, metaphorical) and knows that the road requires attention and the attention is not optional.

Betty's garden was put to bed last week by Dale. The beds are bare, the vines are composted, the bean poles are stacked for next year. Betty stood at the edge and surveyed the empty beds with the expression of a general reviewing a battlefield after the campaign: satisfied, tired, aware that the fight will resume in March. She said "The soil needs lime." She can barely see the soil but she knows it needs lime because she's been reading that soil for sixty years and the reading doesn't require sight. It requires the specific knowledge that comes from being in conversation with the same patch of ground for six decades. Betty and the soil have an understanding. The understanding is: you give, I give. You rest, I rest. We start again in spring.

I made pawpaw pudding. It's October and Betty had frozen pawpaw pulp from last year and she gave me a jar and I drove it home and made the pudding the way she makes it: custard-like, dense, sweet, tropical in that specifically Appalachian way. Clay tasted it and said "What is this?" He'd never had pawpaw. My son, who grew up hearing about Evarts and the mountains and Betty's kitchen, had never tasted a pawpaw. I said "This is what Harlan County tastes like in October." He ate two servings and said "I need to find a pawpaw tree." The search begins. The connection to the land deepens. Another link in the chain from Betty to Craig to Clay: pawpaw pudding, the flavor of a place that doesn't exist on any map except the one drawn by taste.

Betty’s frozen pawpaw pulp isn’t something I can hand you through the screen, and a pawpaw tree isn’t something most of us can find before October runs out — but the feeling of that pudding, that dense, tropical-sweet custard that made Clay stop and ask where he’d been all his life, that feeling lives in this peach cheesecake too. It’s the same logic: fruit that tastes like a specific place, suspended in something creamy and rich, served to someone who needed to taste it. If you’re still looking for your pawpaw tree, start here.

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 20 minutes (plus chilling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
1/4 cup granulated sugar (for crust)
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
3 packages (8 oz each) cream cheese, softened
3/4 cup granulated sugar (for filling)
3 large eggs
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup sour cream
2 cups fresh or thawed frozen peaches, peeled and diced
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

Instructions

Prepare the crust. Preheat oven to 325°F. Combine graham cracker crumbs, 1/4 cup granulated sugar, and melted butter in a bowl and stir until the crumbs are evenly moistened. Press firmly into the bottom and 1 inch up the sides of a 9-inch springform pan. Bake for 10 minutes, then set aside to cool.
Prepare the peach topping. In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine diced peaches, brown sugar, lemon juice, and cinnamon. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5–7 minutes until peaches are softened and juices thicken slightly. Remove from heat and let cool to room temperature.
Make the filling. Beat softened cream cheese and 3/4 cup granulated sugar together on medium speed until smooth and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in vanilla extract and sour cream until just combined. Do not overbeat.
Layer and bake. Spoon half the peach mixture over the cooled crust. Pour the cream cheese filling evenly over the peaches. Bake at 325°F for 50–55 minutes, until the edges are set and the center has only a slight jiggle. Turn off the oven, crack the door, and let the cheesecake cool inside for 1 hour to prevent cracking.
Chill and finish. Remove from the oven and run a thin knife around the edge of the pan to loosen the cheesecake. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or overnight. Before serving, spoon the remaining peach mixture over the top. Release the springform ring and slice to serve.

Nutrition (per serving)

Peach Cheesecake — The Creamy, Fruit-Sweet Dessert That Carries a Place in Every Bite