I know you’ve been foaming at the mouth all weekend, anxiously waiting to read about the fate of my inaugural lemon mascarpone cheesecake. I, being the kind, benevolent blogger that I am shall keep you in suspense no more: It was only a mild disaster.
I say mild disaster because, while it wasn’t inedible, it certainly couldn’t have been called a success either. The reason it went so wrong is that I messed with the crust recipe. It called for ginger snaps and I substituted graham crackers. Apparently, just because two ingredients are next to each other in the grocery aisle, it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re suitable substitutes that will not explode crust all over your kitchen.
The graham crackers drank up the melted butter like sailors drinking beer after being at sea for three months and I had to keep adding butter until the texture finally approximated something similar to crust. Well, it was all fun and games until I removed the springform pan and watched with dismay as my carefully crumbled graham crackers dispersed like shrapnel. My previously shining, freshly mopped floor was quickly hidden and the puppy was quick to take advantage.
So, that was the first half of the disaster. The second half was that mascarpone was too expensive (I couldn’t justify spending $15 on cheese) so I substituted ricotta. The recipe said I could use ricotta as a sub but the consistency was a little too soft to be a proper cheesecake. It was more like a sweet souffle or, well, just a weirdly soft cheesecake.
All told, the cake was edible (the crust was too as long as we were handy with our utensils) but I’m anxious to try my hand at cheesecake with a recipe that needs no altering. I have one ready to go (it’s called “Deluxe Cheesecake”) and I hope it’ll be a deluxe success. If nothing else it’ll be a deluxe failure and will hopefully be fun to write about.
Other than the cheesecake our weekend was fairly uneventful. I had the opportunity to hang out with two of my nieces on Saturday and we had a lovely time. They are into hula hoops and jump-ropes now and they had quite the laugh at my expense when I tried to take part in their reindeer games. I can’t say I blame them, I imagine watching a grown woman jumping up and down while swinging a rope and rapidly turning pink in the face would be quite the sight. I did manage to avoid a heart attack, at least, so we can all be thankful for that. While they are under the impression that I am a living, breathing jungle gym, they might get a tad alarmed if I failed to rise after three successive cannonballs from the couch to my tummy.