The fruit markets are selling what looks like miniature oval oranges. Kumquats, my neighbour tells me. And they are grown here in Cyprus. I once had a teenage book called ‘Kumquat May, I Still Love You.’ I loved that title. So for the sake of an old teenage book, I bought a bag.
Eating a Kumquat is a unique experience because there’s a weird mix of sweet and sour. The inside is bitter, like a lemon, but the peel is sweet. I popped a whole one in my mouth and it tasted too bitter. However, when I ate slices I could taste more of the sweetness and enjoyed them.
It’s my aim this year to Discover New Foods – which means learning how to use them, not just scoffing a bag of raw ones. After an extensive 1am Google search of kumquat recipes, I decided to make a Kumquat Cheesecake. Here’s what makes this a bit daunting:
However, I found this simple-ish looking recipe at the lovely Cuisinovia blog:
“Anari” Cheesecake with Almond Crust and Candied Kumquats
Before I could start, I needed a ‘Spring Form Cake Pan’ – I hadn’t a clue what one of those was so I sent out an email to my neighbours. Within half an hour the guy opposite had lent me his cake pan.
I can Begin.
I spent an inordinate amount of time cutting up baking paper and greasing the cake pan. Then I began bashing up digestive biscuits while the butter was gently melting on the hob.
PING!
I sneaked a quick look at my iPad. A message from a friend at Supper Club.
‘Is Supper Club this Thursday or next? I have it written on my calendar for the 10th . . .’
PING! PING! PING! PING! came the replies.
It was next Thursday.
Bugger.
………………………………………………………….
So, a week later, I begin again.
Line cake pan, check. Bash up digestives and almonds, check. Chuck ricotta, Philedelphia, sour cream, lemon zest, sugar and eggs in the blender – check. This is EASY. Not sure what to do with the honey so I chuck that in too. Pour white mixture on the digestive base, check.
‘You will bake this cheesecake in a water bath.’
WTF???!!!!!
This could only end in tears.
I re-read the recipe directions and did copious amounts of YouTubing. Then I wrapped the cake pan in lots of foil and put it in a big roasting tray. I then filled the tray with water while it was in the oven. Yes, a lot of water went on the floor.
An hour later I took it out and . . . well, I had what looked like a baked cheesecake. Who knew how much water had seeped in? There’s no way I was taking the cheesecake out of the pan until I got to Supper Club. In case it disintegrated.
I moved on to making the Candied Kumquats for putting on top of the cheesecake. It was surprisingly easy. 10 minutes before leaving for Supper Club, I decorated the cheesecake with the kumquats. It was only then that I noticed that the gap between the edge of the cheesecake and the cake pan was filled with water. I came out in a cold sweat. The water bath must have gone wrong.
It was too late to do anything, so I dashed off to Supper Club with the cheesecake still in the cake pan. When I arrived I retreated to the kitchen and tentatively loosened the spring catch on cake pan so that the sides lifted off.
Liquid ran EVERYWHERE.
But once the flood dissipated, I could see that what remained was a rather handsome, very intact, kumquat cheesecake. The liquid must have been some of the syrup that had run down the sides.
When the time came to serve my dessert, my fellow Supper Club ladies were suitably impressed. I had warned them that it may have ended in disaster. And, if I do say so myself, it was DELICIOUS! As I ate it, this surreal feeling came over me – I had succeeded in making something that Other People Do. The kind of thing that I would readily eat at parties, knowing that there wasn’t a chance in hell that I could produce something like that.
Until now.
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