So it’s official: the secret of happiness is not love, beauty, or a tax-free jurisdiction.

It’s having a signature dessert.

Just imagine: never again will you be left peering into the oven, running an hour late and covered in flour, while your newly-attempted gateau fails to rise to the (special) occasion. Or your panna cotta doesn’t quite make it to cotta, and you’re left with plain old panna in a ramekin.

With a killer signature dessert, pot-luck parties and ‘you don’t have to bring anything, really’ occasions become a walkover. Soon the host is begging you to make your ‘usual’, as after several months of Pavlovian (or rather strawberry pavlova) training, it just doesn’t feel like a party without it. While other guests wrap up their half-dissected blackberry tarts and untouched supermarket sponge rolls, you’re scouring the room in search of your missing cake stand and the miscreant who’s proceeding to lick it clean of all crumbs.

A few years ago, at a party far far away, a friend of a friend brought along a dessert that changed my life. It was a cake fashioned by angels – the lightest, softest, most transcendental cake I’d ever inhaled. I’d met my future signature dessert.

 

Life being life, it took two years before I finally procured the recipe. Cotton-soft Japanese cheesecake, it said. Not a problem. I mean, how hard could this be? Tiny hitch no.1: I don’t bake. Apart from the odd apple crumble, and some seriously questionable macaroons in Food Tech, this was the first time in I’d knowingly attempted to bake a cake from scratch. Not-so-tiny hitch no. 2: It may have tasted of harps and halos, but the recipe was pure devil: double-boiling, ‘folding in’ flour, whisking into ‘soft peaks’ (like, Everest but more fluffy?), separating (but still legally married) eggs, and the pièce-de-résistance, a bain-marie.As a neonate baker, however, I took this all in my stride. If it had asked me to beat the eggs with a pitchfork, while hopping on one leg whistling Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies, I’d have been none the wiser.

Fast-forward much egg-wrangling, kitchen-equipment improvisation, and sitting on hands to avoid opening the oven to ‘have a peek’ (which is death to rising cakes, apparently), finally, steaming and more than just a little soggy from the bain-marie, I had my cake. And ate it too.

 

Hint: If you’re not a swell baker, enlist a more competent cake-maker to help you. Really, you need them.

 

 

Recipe: Japanese Cheesecake
Based on recipe from Dianna’s Desserts

Prep time: around 1 hour (faster if you’re a seasoned baker)
Cooking time: 1 hour 10 mins

Equipment

  • Double boiler, or similar – I use a Pyrex bowl sitting on a smaller pot of boiling water, with the base of the bowl ideally not touching the water
  • 8” round baking-tin, with high sides (say 3”) and a sealed base – if the base is removable, use tinfoil to wrap the entire outside of the cake-tin to seal it
  • Bain-marie – I use a large pot (with the plastic handles removed) or a high-sided roasting tin
  • Electric whisk – or a normal whisk and arms of steel

Ingredients

  • 250g cream cheese
  • 50g butter, unsalted
  • 100ml milk
  • 6 eggs, large – separate into whites and yolks
  • 60g plain cake flour
  • 20g cornflour(cornstarch)
  • 140g white granulated sugar
  • 1 tbsp lemon juice
  • 1/4 tsp cream of tartar
  • 1/4 tsp salt

Melt the cream cheese, butter, and milk together in the double boiler, until there are no lumps. Cool this cream mixture, e.g. by put the bowl/pot into a larger bowl of cold water.

Add the cream of tartar to the egg whites, and whisk until foamy. Add the sugar, and whisk until you get “soft peaks”.

Returning to the cooled cream mixture: mix in the egg yolks and salt, then the lemon juice. Gently fold in the flour and cornflour, sieving the flour/cornflour as you add it.

Add the cream-flour mixture to the egg white mixture bit by bit. Mix together very gently, to not loose the “airiness”.

Line the sides and base of baking tin with grease-proof/baking paper, and pour in the combined mixture. Put the baking tin into a bain-marie – fill the bain-marie with enough water that the tin starts to float and then add some more (as it will evaporate off).

Place bain-marie into preheated oven (160°C, on fan-assisted, adjust as necessary), and bake for 1 hour 10 minutes. Don’t open the oven before you think the cake is ready.

To cool, tip the cake out, upside-down, onto a plate (if you leave it to cool in tin, the top surface will crumple as the cake subsides). Leave to cool in fridge (e.g. overnight).

To serve, remove baking paper and tip cake back to brown-side-up. Serve cold.