There is a reason my thighs and I are at war. It doesn't matter how much I work out lately, I can not regain control of my sweet tooth. The whole situation has gotten completely out of hand. And in an effort to improve my culinary skills I've been cooking up a storm lately (okay, maybe not a storm but an afternoon shower). This is not helping my weight loss goals.
Recently I've had a craving for my mom's Oreo cheesecake. There is no good reason I've been craving this decadent dessert. I know it's the opposite of nutritious. I know it's not remotely good for me. But that is what cravings are all about, right?
Every year for my birthday I request an Oreo cheesecake for my family birthday dinner. It is such a tradition that my mom was known to shuttle the cake to me in college, three hours away from home. That is how much I love this cheesecake. It's my favorite dessert. And I don't use those words lightly.
I went out and bought myself a spring form pan and obtained the recipe from my mother in hopes of making The Canadian a little slice of heaven this weekend. I'm not sure where it all went wrong, but it was an epic failure.
I won't bore you with the gory details but I started by making the crust.
And followed the instructions perfectly.
I moved onto the filling - making a terrible mess.
I put in an ungodly amount of cream cheese.
I even figured out how to add two yolks. It only took me three eggs.
I stepped on the black dog no less than 80 times before banishing her to the living room.
I stole a dozen Oreo's from the grips of The Canadian and set out to crush them.
I tried a rolling pin first.
When that didn't work I tried the handle of the rolling pin.
When that still didn't work I resorted to a measuring cup.
Then it dawned on me how my mom crushes cookies - worked like a charm.
Finally, I managed to layer the filling with the crushed Oreo's and was feeling pretty good about myself.
All that remained was the baking and making the sauce.
While the cheesecake baked for the required hour and fifteen minutes I set about cleaning up. Maple couldn't restrain herself and insisted on helping. Isn't that nice of her?
But when the oven timer beeped the cake wasn't done. Not even close. So I let it keep cooking. After about 3 hours it finally morphed into this disaster. What is it? It's exploding out of the pan!
Needless to say, I didn't bother making the chocolate sauce.
Even the Oreo layer sank into nothingness.
Shockingly, it tastes just fine. It would be even better with the chocolate sauce, but I probably don't need the extra calories anyway.
I could never in a million years serve this to anyone besides my understanding and supportive husband. But being the great guy that he is, he ate it right up and loved every second of it.
But seriously, what the heck went wrong? What did I screw up so bad that I ended up with the bride of Frankenstein's cake? I don't get it. But don't you worry. This isn't the end of it. I will get this cake right, if it's the last thing I do.