Honestly, I never thought I could feel the pressure of another persons request. Until. The call came in to make a cheesecake for someone whose fiancee had tried cheesecake everywhere, yes, around the globe, and had never been able to recreate 'the' taste she had experienced from one particular cheesecake. Armed and ready with the very best neufchatel cheese, creme fraiche and eggs, I whipped and beat and stirred and poured the filling in my wonderful aluminum 8 inch cheesecake pans (yes, I made more than 1, what if one cracked or fell or was uneven!?). The results were....well...great. I whipped up a little blueberry lemon sauce on the side not knowing what she might like. Keep it plain. real. simple.
A call came in to ask if we could write on the cake...they said no. I waited for our customer to arrive because I had a feeling. He came in, his face a little swollen on one side, shy but expectant. I asked what he might have liked on the cake..her name..Happy Birthday? He answered, actually I was hoping it would say....pause...breath intake....
Will You Marry Me? How could I say no to that. Could I be responsible for breaking his dream? No. period.
I put Will You Marry Me in raspberry coulis and as I spelled out Marry the 'y' turned into a heart. awwwwww.
We packed the cake in it's clear shell, stuffed it in a box lined with blues and purple tissue and sent him on his way. Did he get a YES? Don't know yet. Did I explain the swollen jaw? He had an abcess. Ouch!
Will You Marry Me? A Cheesecake Story needs a happy ending....
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