Woolworth Cheesecake

December and the semester ending and another set of good grades and the year nearly done. I am in my apartment on a cold December evening and I have been writing this entry and thinking about what 2019 has been: the full year at UAB, the research, the second author paper, the daycare job in Birmingham, turning twenty-one, Thanksgiving dressing.

I made the fudge again, dark chocolate and peanut butter, the December tradition now three years old. The peanut butter batch is faster than the chocolate because peanut butter helps it set. Both batches came out perfect on the first attempt this year, which means I have mastered this candy. I am keeping track of what I have mastered and what I am still learning and the list of mastered things is getting long in a way that surprises me every time I look at it.

On Sunday I drove to Prattville for what turned out to be a long afternoon. James was having a hard knee day and he spent most of it in his chair, but he was his full self otherwise: curious, warm, telling a story about something that happened in 1993 that I did not fully follow but listened to completely. Gloria and I made dinner together in the kitchen and when we brought it to the table James said: look at these two women. Just that. Look at these two women. I thought about the fourteen-year-old girl who arrived at that house with one trash bag of belongings and no idea that this was possible. Look at these two women. Yes. Look at us.

That year I kept a running list of things I had mastered, and the fudge was on it—but so was knowing how to be present in a room full of love without shrinking from it. The Woolworth Cheesecake is on that list too now: a no-bake classic that rewards patience and care, the kind of recipe you make once imperfectly and then, if you pay attention, never imperfectly again. After a Sunday like the one in Prattville—after James saying look at these two women and meaning every word—I wanted to share a dessert that feels as reliable and as quietly extraordinary as the people who keep showing up for you.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 4 hours 20 minutes (includes chilling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

1 package (3 oz) lemon-flavored gelatin
1 cup boiling water
1 package (8 oz) cream cheese, softened to room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 can (12 oz) evaporated milk, chilled overnight
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs (about 12 full crackers)
1/4 cup granulated sugar (for crust)
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted

Instructions

Dissolve the gelatin. In a small bowl, stir the lemon gelatin into 1 cup of boiling water until fully dissolved. Set aside and let cool to room temperature, about 20–25 minutes. Do not let it set.
Make the crust. In a medium bowl, combine the graham cracker crumbs, 1/4 cup sugar, and melted butter. Stir until the mixture resembles wet sand. Press firmly and evenly into the bottom of a 9×13-inch baking dish. Place in the refrigerator while you prepare the filling.
Beat the cream cheese. In a large bowl, beat the softened cream cheese and 1 cup sugar together with a hand mixer on medium speed until completely smooth and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes. Add the vanilla extract and beat to combine.
Whip the evaporated milk. Pour the chilled evaporated milk into a separate large, cold bowl. Beat on high speed with a hand mixer until it forms stiff peaks, about 3–4 minutes. Add the lemon juice and beat for 30 seconds more to combine.
Combine the filling. Add the cooled (but still liquid) gelatin to the cream cheese mixture and beat on low speed until fully incorporated. Gently fold in the whipped evaporated milk using a rubber spatula, working in large sweeping motions to keep the mixture light and airy.
Fill and chill. Pour the filling evenly over the prepared graham cracker crust, smoothing the top with a spatula. Cover the pan with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or until fully set. Overnight chilling yields the best, cleanest slices.
Serve. Cut into 12 squares and serve cold. Optionally garnish each piece with a small dollop of whipped cream or a thin lemon slice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Woolworth Cheesecake — The Sweet Taste of a Year Well Lived