With the release of Scentsual I have spent alot of time talking about scents and smell, well now I think it’s time that the other senses got a mention and what better way to start than with the sense of taste.
Yesterday I promised you a recipe for Cheesecake and here it is! It’ basically a scaled down version of This recipe by the crock pot lady. Oh, and it is good, very good. I am glad I scaled mine down by half as it’s so good I would have made myself very sick eating it all if I’d have cooked a bigger one!
So this is my recipe which fitted nicely in a 0.75 litre pyrex dish. And would give 6 measly portions and 4 decent sized portions depending on your needs.
In a large bowl combine soft cheese, cream, vanilla, sugar, egg and flour and whip ’til combined and fluffy.
Sit the cream cheese mix on top of the base and smooth out.
Now I cooked mine in my slow cooker (crock pot) and put about 1 cup of water in the bottom and put the cheesecake in it’s dish in the middle of it. I put a piece of baking paper over the top of ther cheesecake then put the lid on my slow cooker and cooked it on high for 1 hour 15 minutes until the topping was firm to my touch. I then turned off the heat and left the cheesecake in the slow cooker for another hour for it to cool. then I took it out and put it in my fridge for a further 2 hours before I served it.
I am sure you could cook this in a water bath in your oven on a fairly low temperature. Refridgerating it for a few hours after it has cooked the same as I did.
I served mine with Strawberries, mmmm, yummy.
This was very easy to put together and will be a dessert I will do again and again and again. Thanks muchly to the crock pot lady for her inspiration and the original recipe that inspired me.
And here’s a little cheesecaketastic excerpt for you!
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“No, a promise is a promise. Any cake you like. Choose.”
“Oh, well, can I have a slice of the cheesecake? I’ve been fantasising about your cheesecake for so long. I’ll take it home, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay, but watching you eat it is my favourite bit, you know. I don’t get to see people enjoying my cakes enough. Especially if you’ve been fantasising about it.”
My stomach was too full of butterflies to swallow even a mouthful, though I really did want to please him.
“Not today I’m afraid, Jack. My stomach couldn’t take it.”
“All right, I’ll box you up a slice. Take a seat, do. Would you like a drink?” I shook my head, and his brow crinkled a little.
“How’s business been today?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Oh, not bad, not bad,” he replied, “I had a good morning anyway. It’s been dead this afternoon. Here, let me take your coat.”
I undid the buttons on my sensible, woollen coat. It looked a bit past its best, though it had been expensive when I bought it all that time ago. It still kept me warm, and as autumn was rolling in, I needed it against the bitter cold wind and the freezing rain that came in unexpected bursts through the end of summer.
I did have a cat, though it spent most of its time outside, and I was pretty sure it had two or more homes, and it hadn’t puked up at all. I’d just taken a very long time deciding what to wear.
It was too cold to wear anything particularly revealing, not that I owned anything particularly revealing. As a teacher, I had learnt to dress conservatively, especially with seventeen year old boys in the mix. I did find a deep, dark orange top with a long floaty hem and a deep V of cleavage that covered up my tummy nicely and brought attention to my abundant breasts. I’d paired it with a long, heavy brown corduroy skirt that came down to my ankles and covered the tops of my boots. I felt pretty sexy, especially as I wore my favourite red lace underwear underneath.
“Orange is a good colour on you,” he said, as he walked back into the shop, and I blushed.
“Compliments the creamy colour of your skin.”
I almost felt the words caressing the exposed flesh at the V of my top. I bit my lip and surreptitiously rubbed my thighs together. This man drove me crazy with lust, and he’d not even said anything that intimate.
“I don’t know how you manage to work here day in and day out. I’d be eating all the stock,” I said. “Just the delicious smell is enough to make my mouth water.”
The air was dense with vanilla, cream and chocolate with that special light air of sweet baking that any baker will tell you lingers long after the cake in question has been cooked.
“I do my fair share of tasting,” he replied, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. He smiled. “But I enjoy profit far more.”
“It seems a crime to eat these. They’re all such works of art.”
“You flatter me.” I was rewarded by the light flush to his cheeks. “I’m not that good.”
“Oh, stop with the false modesty. You could display these in an art gallery, and people would pay just to look at them and smell them.”
“Ah, but if you do not touch them or taste them you are missing out on most of the sensation.”
His eyes seemed to have darkened to the colour of cooked spinach and instead of being focused on his cakes they were fixed firmly on the pale mounds of my breasts.
“Oh, well, yes, they taste divine,” I replied, in a fluster.
“I bet they do,” he quipped and cocked an eyebrow. I blushed not just on my cheeks. It leaked down and suffused my chest, too.
And now, now I wish I still had a slice of that cheesecake to eat! Suddenly I’m hungry for it, I don’t know why! ;)