Cheesecake: Epic Fail

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.

Geography Lesson.

Canadians are pretty much clueless about American geography. 50 States is just to many to memorize if you don't live in them. They know the basics; Florida, Texas, California, New York, Hawaii, and of course Alaska, but that's about all. I don't hold it against them. It amuses me more than anything.

Case in point. I was talking with a ummm...colleague yesterday when the following conversation ensued.


Other Person (OP): If you could live anywhere in the US, what state would it be?

Me: Hmmm. Probably Tennessee or North Carolina.

OP: Well, if you had to live north of the Mississippi Delta Line, where would you live?

(Let's see. The Mississippi River runs North and South which means you must live East or West of the river. The delta is way down south, last I checked, so pretty much every state is northern in that case.)

Me: Do you mean the Mason Dixon Line?

OP: Yeah, that's what I meant.

Me: The Mason Dixon Line implies the East coast. 

OP: Yup.

Me: Well, I guess Vermont or New Hampshire. Where would you live?

OP: You know, Arizona or Utah. Somewhere with mountains...and the ocean.

There you have it. I hope we have all learned something about American geography today. Go forth and conquer.

Cross Country Skiing: 1st Attempt.

After shoveling for an hour today, and after falling down the icy stairs and dropping my gorceries, and after sliding all over the roads, I need to focus on the positives of living in a winter wonderland. I don't have to think too hard. Really, just back to this past Saturday. It's not too hard to remember, mainly because my quadriceps are still sore from the winter adventure. But I must say, it is by far my favorite winter activity yet.

Saturday afternoon I attended a girls only cross country expedition. And by expedition I mean one hour jaunt. It was my first time donning cross country skis - that much was obvious to everyone.

Fortunately, the girls were great about it and explained the concept and equipment in detail.

They didn't even judge my awesome 80's ski shoes.

Carla simply explained that the square toe piece is for clipping into the skis.

She said it wouldn't matter that they were broken either. Duct tape was our back up plan.

Once my shoe slid in to the metal clip and the hook latched, it was all good.

Jana's shoes were much cooler than mine. But she didn't judge me.

Even when I realized my ski pole was rotted through and broken...

They didn't laugh too hard.

Fortunately, the nice man in charge of the trails lent me an extra pole. It didn't matter that the borrowed pole was broken - didn't matter one bit.

Once we finally got going I tried to find my stride - my groove, if you will.

I started off well and was feeling pretty good about myself.

It took a minute to realize that my heel wasn't attached to the ski - makes gliding much easier that way.

But the further we went, the further back I fell. I'm not complaining though. I was loving it.

I caught up to the girls when we hit a hill. Apparently cross country trails do not typically have hills. They're mainly flat and have ski tracks the entire way. The hills we encountered were so steep that we had to take our skis off and walk!

Walking up the hills was more work than the skiing itself. And skiing isn't easy. In below freezing temperatures I had my hat off, my gloves off, my jacket unzipped and I was still sweating. Cross country skiing equates to the intensity of running.

Look how long these suckers are. It's a good thing the skis are so light.

Anyway, three days later I can still feel the workout in my legs. It hurt so good.

Word on the street is we're going night skiing later this week. Details to come...