Japanese Cheesecake

January 2020. A new decade. The word "decade" carries weight — ten years, the length of my time in Portland, the length of a marriage, the span of a life phase. I was twenty-three when I moved here. I am thirty-four now. In the last decade I met Brian, married Brian, had Miya, lost Fumiko, started a blog, had two essays published, outlined a book, and cooked approximately ten thousand meals. The decade is a container. The container is full.

I made ozoni on New Year's morning. This year it was good. Not close — good. The dashi smelled like the ocean. The miso dissolved smoothly. The mochi puffed and browned. Miya ate hers and said, "This is Obaachan soup but Mama style," and the description was so perfect — the soup is Fumiko's and also mine, the inheritance is also an invention — that I wrote it on a napkin and pinned it above the stove next to Lin's comment. The wall above my stove is becoming a manifesto, written on napkins, in the handwriting of the women who see me clearly.

The blog enters the new decade with seven thousand readers. The book outline sits in a drawer, waiting. The second essay is scheduled for publication. The writing career — because it is a career now, I am saying the word, I am claiming it — is building itself brick by brick, post by post, essay by essay. I am a writer. I say it in the kitchen, out loud, to the chipped bowl: I am a writer. The bowl does not respond. The bowl holds the soup. The soup holds the meaning. The meaning holds me.

Brian made a New Year's resolution to "be more present." He announced this over breakfast with the sincerity of a man who means it and the track record of a man who has made this resolution before. I did not make a resolution. I am done with resolutions. I am making decisions instead. Resolutions are wishes. Decisions are actions. The difference is the difference between wanting to change and changing. I am almost ready to change. The word "almost" is getting smaller. The word "ready" is getting larger. Eventually one will overtake the other, and the sentence will read: I am ready.

The ozoni was Fumiko’s recipe made mine, and that got me thinking about every Japanese dish that lives in that same in-between space — inherited, then reinvented. Japanese cheesecake is exactly that: a Western form transformed by Japanese technique into something lighter, more trembling, more honest. I made one the afternoon of New Year’s Day, after the soup, after Miya’s napkin quote, while the wall above the stove was still fresh in my mind. If the ozoni is the inheritance, this is the decision — the one I made on purpose, with both hands.

TRANSITION_START

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 10 min | Total Time: 1 hr 35 min (plus cooling) | Servings: 10

Ingredients

8 oz (225g) cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup whole milk
1/4 cup unsalted butter
6 large eggs, separated, room temperature
2/3 cup granulated sugar, divided
1/4 cup cake flour, sifted
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
Powdered sugar, for dusting (optional)

Instructions

Prepare the pan. Preheat oven to 325°F (160°C). Grease an 8-inch round cake pan, line the bottom with parchment paper, and wrap the outside of the pan in two layers of foil to prepare for a water bath.
Melt the base. In a small saucepan over low heat, combine cream cheese, milk, and butter. Stir gently until fully melted and smooth. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
Add yolks and flavorings. Whisk egg yolks and 1/3 cup of the sugar into the cream cheese mixture until combined. Stir in lemon juice and vanilla extract. Sift in the cake flour and cornstarch and fold until just incorporated, no lumps remain.
Whip the meringue. In a large clean bowl, beat egg whites with cream of tartar on medium speed until foamy. Gradually add the remaining 1/3 cup sugar and continue beating until stiff, glossy peaks form — do not overbeat.
Fold gently. Add one-third of the meringue to the cream cheese batter and fold to lighten. Add the remaining meringue in two additions, folding very gently with a spatula to keep the batter airy. A few streaks are fine.
Bake in a water bath. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Place the pan inside a larger roasting pan and add hot water to come 1 inch up the side. Bake for 55–65 minutes, until the top is golden and the center has just a slight jiggle.
Cool slowly. Turn the oven off, crack the door open, and let the cheesecake rest inside for 15 minutes. Remove and cool completely on a rack. Refrigerate at least 2 hours before unmolding.
Serve. Run a thin knife around the edge, invert onto a plate, peel away parchment, then flip right-side up onto a serving plate. Dust lightly with powdered sugar if desired. Slice with a clean, warm knife.

Nutrition (per serving)

Japanese Cheesecake — Obaachan Style, Mama Style