There’s an old proverb that says:

Try not to cook based on fear and guilt.

or:

Neuroses and cheesecake don’t mix.

This is the story of Momsie and the cheesecake. Don’t worry, it’s a short story, without much of a point, but there’s a great cliffhanger at the end.

The hubs called.  He will be late home tonight due to some unfortunate driving on my part:  we have a flat and my sweet hubs will be changing a tire at ten pm in ten degree weather.  That, my friends, is true love.

You know what else is true love?  When he mentions that he was supposed to bring a cheesecake to work tomorrow for a bake sale, and could I make it?  His dad emailed him the recipe – it’s on the computer.  (This is when I start to get a bit nervous – why did his DAD have to email a recipe?  What’s the big deal? Isn’t that what allrecipes is for?) And… a fundraiser.  Huh.  Just people scrutinizing my baked goods and, well, PAYING MONEY FOR THEM.  Plus, his company is a bunch of engineers (gasp!).  They have scrutiny down to a T charted art form.  So, no pressure.

Here’s the deal.  It’s his mom’s recipe.  She’s famous for it.

Which means I have to tell you this:  She is deceased.  And so, I have to make my husband’s dear sweet passed on’s mother’s very famous cheesecake recipe for a bunch of picky eaters who employ said husband.

Oh holy night, what have I gotten myself into? All his work friends will all be surveying it and, you know, judging his future at the company on it–so goodbye Christmas bonus and we might as well just start thinking about future real estate in a van down by the river.

I can’t bake!  I can’t!  And it’s CHEESECAKE…which can very easily end up like this:

Or, if undercooked, you can end up with a plate full of something with the consistency of this:

Ok.  Deep breath.   I VERY carefully followed the instructions, with the precision of a surgeon I tell you.  This is so not my style.  Generally, I have a sort of rebel streak when it comes to baking.  I like to think of myself as a bit of a rogue agent in the kitchen.  Sorta like this:

I don’t much like to measure.  I get all “pinch of this” and “eyeball that” and heck who has time for nesting measuring cups?  Call it good with a coffee mug of sugar and stop taunting me, recipe card.

But this time?  I followed the recipe like a good girl and prayed all throughout that the good Lord would bless the cheesecake.

I mixed it all up, put it in my carefully grahamed spring form pan, and then placed it oh so gently in my oven .

And that, dear reader, is where I leave you.

Wait!  You say, that’s the END?  No resolution?  No “and they all lived happily ever after with a perfect cheesecake?”  I know.  So not fair.

You know in The Empire Strikes Back where Leia says, “I love you!” and Han says (gulp) “I know.” (He is so cool, even when he’s gonna get zapped and frozen all up in a big black ice cube thing that makes him look not quite so hot as when he’s the live version, but I still cried) and then the MOVIE JUST ENDS and we’re all like, wait WHAT?  THAT’S IT?  YOU KILLED HAN?  NOOOOOO!

That is the cheesecake story.  It has left the building with the hubster, neatly packaged up in cardboard and tin foil.  Kinda like Han.  Only creamier.

So I leave you with this:  (Try to imagine these scrolling slowly across the screen like in the beginning of Star Wars.  I tried to actually do this but heck, the technology issue made my head hurt a bit. Ain’t nobody got time for that craziness. As if this post wasn’t nut ball enough.)

WILL HUBSTERS’  COLLEAGUES ACTUALLY BE ABLE TO EAT IT WITHOUT AWKWARD COMPLIMENTS WHEN REALLY THEY ARE WISHING IT WAS NOT A BRICK OF DESPAIR?

WILL HE GET A CHRISTMAS BONUS OR JUST ONE OF THOSE OVER-SALTED HAMS?

WILL MY EGO REMAIN BASICALLY INTACT?  (I don’t really think there’s any fear of that not occurring.)

WILL I EVER BE ABLE TO SHOW MY FACE IN THE HUBS’ FACILITY AGAIN?  (not that I ever go there…  he works in a mysterious building that needs a badge.  I don’t visit much.)

WILL THE OVEN EVER STOP TAUNTING ME WITH ITS DISDAIN AND MOODINESS?

WILL I EVER STOP TYPING IN ALL CAPS?

WILL GEORGE LUCAS EVER APOLOGIZE FOR OVER CGI-ING THE NEW STAR WARS MOVIES, AND WHAT WAS HE THINKING WITH JAR JAR BINKS?  REALLY?

The End.

Don’t worry.  There’s always a sequel:

My lawyer wants me to clarify:  the sweet mother in law was not offended by this post.  She would have chuckled and just told me to use allrecipes.com.  Or, Miss Sara Lee.

Also:  the lawyers says I used too many images in today’s post. It’s possible.  I am hyped up on cold meds and need sleep so ’tis the season for sketchy writing and overly CGI-ed blogging!!!