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Recipe: Pumpkin Bourbon Spice Cheesecake with Bourbon Mascarpone Whipped Cream
Another thing I believe in delaying is my annual sugar-and-spice binge. From Thanksgiving through, approximately, February, I allow myself obscene quantities of all things involving any or all of the following: cinnamon, cloves, ground ginger, allspice. However, I don't really dip into these flavors until the third week in November. I like to keep these warm fuzzy flavors to the season in which they're most needed. Every year, it's worth the wait.
This year, I'm inaugurating the Spice Season with a new-to-me recipe: Pumpkin Bourbon Spice Cheesecake with a Spiced Pecan-Graham Cracker Crust. You got that right - the word SPICE appear TWICE in the title of this dish. That's the way we like it, this time of year.
The recipe comes from Baking Illustrated, but I did tweak it a little, as I generally do. I decreased the sugar in the filling by about a tablespoon and added about a tablespoon of Maple Syrup at the same time as the Heavy Cream. (Maple's another exclusively Winter taste, as is pumpkin, obviously.) I also added almonds in an equal amount to the pecans in the crust. These things were good decisions.
It turns out, this dessert is perhaps the greatest baked good ever known to man. It's creamy, spicy, sweet, and yet almost light (as light as cheesecake can be) and its crust is nutty and spicy and crunchy. The cream that I whipped up to serve with it is a dense, sweet, bourbony rich addition and every bit good enough to eat on its own. This cheesecake is kind of the sweet, supple, beautiful dessert answer to my lovely jacket. If I could slip into this cheesecake and wear it around, I would. It's truly spectacular. Make this for your holiday crowd. They'll thank you and you'll thank me.
For the Crust

A few weeks ago, Dan and I went to the Brattle Book Shop in search of cool old books and I hit the Mother Lode. (I mean, the real mother lode was upstairs in the rare book room where they had a first edition of Ulysses among many other drool-worthy items, but I liked my bargain basement find a lot.) I found the 1950 Gourmet Magazine Cookbook and the second Volume, from 1957. Since the magazine was so cruelly taken away from us, I was doubly excited to find these books intact and available to me at such a reasonable price!
Both volumes are pretty beat up, but still in good working order - I don't do a very good job of keeping my cookbooks clean, after all. This one also had a bunch of things between the pages, one magazine cutting with an apple pie recipe, a postcard with some notes on the back, and one little slip with notes about a day's worth of menus. Apparently they had oeuf au miroir for breakfast (p. 503 in Volume II) and Chinese fried rice (with either chicken or ham) for lunch. I'm also kind of obsessed with the handwriting on these notes. Relics of a kind. Was it some fifties-style optimistic and ambitious newlywed, planning menus for each menu? A man teaching himself to cook? Who owned these books before? I'm especially intrigued because there's no inscription! (This is why I always write my name in my books.)
These books are full of all sorts of old school images and recipes that I think (it's safe to say) have fallen somewhat out of favor. The chapter titles are charming and hilarious. My favorite (above) is Man's Meat. The Scottish poem just below the meaty illustration also makes me smile. More lovely chapter titles below.
And then there are the full color illustrations. Some look good (Black Bean Soup, Crêpes Suzette, Chocolate Cake Florence) and others are, well, glazed meat. In this most disgusting example, Cold Glazed Ox Tongue. It has flower shapes cut out of, I believe, ham.
In any case, expect to hear more about this book. At some point, I'm going to start cooking out of it - none of the more exotic meats and certainly no aspic in the near future - but I do want to try some of these recipes! I'll keep you posted. (More images of the books here.)
I'll leave you with a favorite cookbook-reading guilty pleasure: biscuits (the kind from a can) with honey and butter.

I'm realizing that a lot of the cooking I do is motivated by a desire to return (at least gastronomically) home, to an earlier time. Most of the recipes that have excited me lately are ones from my childhood, things my mom cooked when we were little and the weather was turning cold.
Or maybe I'm just being pessimistic and short-sighted. Maybe the only difference is that we just have less time and it's less convenient, since we don't all live under one roof together. Maybe it's just that I spend all of my time at home just hanging out with my husband. Maybe we just need to clear our schedules every once in a while and just make time to be in the same place as the people we love, doing nothing.
My memories of these cupcakes (many childhood birthdays, random winter days, special occasions that warranted cupcakes) are densely layered on top of one another and now I'm happy to think that I've added another Black-Bottom-Cup memory to the pile. Now these are the cupcakes that I grew up on, but also the cupcakes I grew back down with. They were there as I was lunging toward adulthood, but they also accompanied me and my friend on a little trip back in time to the days when we lived together, boys took up less of our time, and just killing time was the sweetest thing we could do.
This little baking afternoon helped me reconnect with one of my dear friends and also with an earlier version of myself, but I'm dedicating this post and the recipe (thanks as ever, mom!) to all the friends I used to sit around with, go on long Mill River walks with, nap with, do homework with, and grow up with. I miss you all desperately and hope that one day we can kill time and shoot the breeze together soon. Meanwhile, bake these and think of me.
When it rains, they say, it pours. One raindrop opens a crack and suddenly everything rushes in and you find yourself suddenly inundated. This is true with the Good, but is at least equally as true with the Bad. When you find yourself up to your ankles and sinking fast in late work, missed deadlines, debts piling up, and emails that have long gone unanswered, it's easy to get mired down in self-pity and despair.
I pulled out the big yellow baking book and found their recipe for oatmeal cookies. This book is amazing not only because the recipes are really quite delicious, but because they explain how they arrived at the recipe through their testing process. Of course, you all know me well enough by now to know that I just don't follow recipes to the letter. So, I added a spice or two here an there, threw in some vanilla and chopped almonds and ended with a cookie with a delicate flavor balance and crazy texture. I think I over-baked them. Either that or I needed a little extra butter to compensate for the extra dryness of the almonds or something. They were a little dry, a little crunchy, but awfully tasty. Best served warm and without bitterness. Bake these and set your worries aside.
