The cherries were already incredibly soft at the time of picking. Without their stems, they would ooze a dark red-purple liquid after washing and (attempted) drying. A good portion were washed, loosely covered with paper towel, and transferred to the fridge in hopes of prolonging their effective period of use. Interestingly, the fruit indeed firmed up significantly after being exposed to the dry, cool climate of the fridge. That said, they were also more susceptible to moulding given their rotting flesh. White spores began to form at the exposed stems in less than a day.
Since one can only consume so many cherries in one sitting, I worked quickly to formulate my first ever cherry jam. The pitting process was tedious, given that the cherries were on the smaller side of the spectrum, in addition to being on their way to mush. Many bleeding bulbs were discarded in this step, confirming once again that long distance cherry picking was not worth the trip.
Ingredients:
- 615 g (2 cups) cherries, pitted
- 67 g lemon juice
- 173 g granulated sugar
- 1 tbsp gelatin
That said, large chunks of fruit did not overcome the upwards travel by straw. Pitting also caused a ring of red to persist on my wooden cutting board. I discourage not the act of making jam, but definitely don't believe in using fresh cherries for the application.
Based on previous success, I had direly wished to execute a second basque cheesecake using Smooth Biscoff spread. The Crunchy edition had been wonderful for eating straight from the jar, but its sublime texture was lost when incorporated into a moisture-heavy mixture. The trial at hand would stem from my earlier variation, adapted from none other than the fabulous Sunday Baking.
- 360 g cream cheese
- 100 g granulated sugar
- 3 eggs
- 1 egg yolk
- 1 tsp vanilla extract
- ̶1̶8̶0̶ ̶g̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶v̶y̶ ̶c̶r̶e̶a̶m̶
- 1 tsp lemon juice
- 130 g Biscoff Smooth spread
At the twenty-two-minute mark, I conducted a cautious check. The edges had set, yet the centre was wobbly. This was a good sign! Not all hope was lost!
To combat the pale surface, I turned to my new convection oven's Broil function. In just under one minute, the interior reached a blazing 450 F. Two more minutes and I'd achieve the coveted blackened surface. Any more though, and the result would be unpalatable.
The centremost section oozed slightly, but the perimeter had set. Although heavy cream had been forgotten, the creation remained formidable - delectable and indulgent. Creaminess had been maintained not withstanding my blunder, much to my shock.
Chilling overnight allowed the centre to set, the overall consistency to improve, and flavour complexity to develop. The inclusion of Biscoff was far more prominent the morning after.
The trial was an unexpected success, rapidly vanishing in the subsequent days. Next time, I must remember the heavy cream for a proper outcome comparison.
It wasn't until well into baking the aforementioned Biscoff Basque Cheesecake that I realized I had forgotten the heavy cream entirely. I panicked, of course, though little could be done. I resolved to make a second basque cheesecake with the cream included, but soon realized that I didn't have enough cream cheese for the project. The eventual solution was to halve Just One Cookbook's recipe for a Japanese Soufflé Cheesecake.
I whisked in one whole egg before recalling that soufflé cheesecakes call for aeration of egg whites to form a meringue. I opted to increase the volume by using one additional egg white - the one that been left over from Sunday's recipe. In beating the whites with a few unmeasured tablespoons of sugar, the foam emerged frothy. The meringue had been formed with ease, nut unfortunately not rendered stable enough for successful execution.
Results were later learned when the cake collapsed after being removed from oven. Again, in hindsight, I could have simply read the directions. But I didn't, and, so, here we were.
Leaving the cake to reside at room temperature for several hours had dried out considerably. On the first day of sampling, it was crumbly with a mild hint of black sesame. Covering the cake reinstated moisture, drastically improving texture in the second-day sampling.
In spite of its signature grey hue, the presence of black sesame was rather muted. While ideal for those looking to venture beyond the standard roster of cake flavours, the cake failed to summon any "Mmmmhs" from lovers of the intense, nutty profile.




















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