The Great Cheescake Failure of '10

A few years ago, on a whim, I baked a Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake from an autumn Gourmet (Gourmet, how I miss you!). Nick loved it, and I've made it once a year ever since, to his great glee.

Once a year because 1) it's a lot of work, and 2) it's a huge cheesecake, and unless I get other people over to help us eat it, Nick and I will devour the entire thing ourselves.

As my loyal readers know, I held a BBQ last weekend to celebrate the gorgeous weather, and for that occasion I made a pretty fine roast. What I didn't mention was that I also baked a cheesecake. The Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake.

It failed completely.

The recipe instructs you to "Invert bottom of a 9-inch springform pan (to create flat bottom, which will make it easier to remove cake from pan), then lock on side and butter pan." Because I only bake the cheesecake once a year, I forget that the inverted bottom will mean that a sugary goo will drip out. I have vague memories of frantically wrapping the oozing pan in tin foil, or putting foil on the bottom of the oven to catch the stuff before it could burn on.

This year, the ooze was particularly virulent. The fire alarm went off. Piercingly. We got it silenced, opened all the windows, turned on some fans.

The alarm went off again. Now the kitchen, the living room, the entire apartment were rapidly filling up with smoke. I looked in the oven. There was a pool of smoking, sugary mess on the oven floor below the cake. I closed the oven, and started fanning smoke out the window.

The fire alarm went off a third time. It's really loud. The ooze had caught fire and was merrily burning. I could see it through the oven window. I paused. Picked up the silicon potholder, and removed the cheesecake from the oven. We were discussing the best way to put out the fire when it went out on its own.

Well. The cheesecake clearly wasn't going back in the oven.

Later, after our guests had left, I cleaned the oven. Thank you baking soda, the greatest cleaning product ever (Non-toxic, cheap, and effective. Yay!). A bit of scrubbing later, the oven was clean. I turned it back on, wrapped the cheesecake pan in foil, and put it in a water bath. No ooze was getting out. But I didn't know how long the cheesecake had been in the oven before, and the top had set slightly as it cooled, so I couldn't use a visual cue to tell me when it was done.

I have a horror of overdone cheesecake. I put it in the oven for a half hour.

The next day, you guessed it -- I cut a small slice before the BBQ started, just to test, and it was woefully raw. This was truly the point at which it was all over, but I refused to accept defeat. I tried microwaving the thing on low power, and then I shoved it in the fridge to chill.

When I checked it again later, still no go. It was cheesecake soup. I don't know exactly why -- whether cheesecake could be further cooked once chilled or not. I did a bit of reading online, and I found some suggestions that had to do with its custard nature. The idea being that once cooked and cooled, the eggs in the custard have formed their shape and won't get raw and reform into a new structure no matter how much heat is applied later. This may or may not be true.

The point is -- it's okay. I baked a cheesecake and it failed. Sure, it's a drag that the cheesecake wasn't available for dessert, but then Vivian and I whipped up some brownies and Dave ran to the store for ice cream and dinner was terrific. Great conversation, great company -- and a great roast.

I believe in cooking fearlessly, even if that means occasional failure. So a cheesecake failed. That was last week. This week the question is whether a sour cherry and almond tart will be superior if made with Frangipane or almond pastry cream. I've got a half recipe of each chilling in the fridge, along with some tart dough. Tonight I bake mini-versions of each for sampling purposes. I've stolen elements from about five different tart recipes for my versions.

And I bet they're going to be delicious.

I try. I have fun. Mostly, my delicious dishes succeed. Every now and then they fail. Then I laugh and move on.

PS. I did salvage a little bit of the cheesecake for Nick. The edges were cooked through, so I cut them off before throwing the cake away. Here's what was left of the fabulous Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake.

My Best Roast Yet

It's October, and I assume that even this sweltering summer must eventually say goodbye. So when I saw that the weather report for Saturday was a gorgeous sunny 78 degrees, I invited everyone over for a final BBQ before packing the grill into the basement.

As it happened, none of my vegetarian friends could make it, and I decided to try out a recipe for grilling a huge hunk of meat that I've been eying ever since it showed up in my Cook's Illustrated last summer.

Now, I have nothing against vegetarians. I was one myself for a decade, and I still eat vegetarian at least half the time. And it's not that I think my vegetarian friends would object to me serving a roast -- but when they come over, I want to put my best energy into something for them as well as something for the meat eaters. A roast seems out of place.

But every once in a while, it's fun to pit myself against an enormous hunk of meat. There's more at stake there. That hunk of meat cost a pretty penny, usually. If I ruin it, then dinner is ruined. So there's an element of thrill is doing a big ol' roast. Or maybe I'm just easily amused.

On the way home from work on Friday, I stopped at the delightful Reading Terminal Market and wound my way to Harry G. Ochs and Sons, my favorite butcher. (They also have terrific homemade sausages, by the way.)

I consulted my print-out of the five acceptable cuts of meat, rated in order of preference, as supplied by Cook's Illustrated. I do love them so.

"I'd like a top sirloin," I said.

The butcher eyed me doubtfully. "That's a big cut of meat. How much did you want?"

"Three to four pounds?" I have no idea how big a top sirloin is. It's not visible in any of the three glass counters. I don't know if he'll agree to cut it to size, or how much it'll cost me, but I persevere.

Without a word, he goes into the back, behind the swinging door, and returns with a huge hunk of meat sealed in plastic. It's clearly way more than the measly three to four pounds I need. But without a murmur, he slices open the plastic and hacks off a chunk. Onto the scale it goes. Five and half pounds. He hacks off some more. Four and a half pounds.

"Do you want the fat?" he asks me.

I scrutinize the meat. One side is covered with a thick layer of white fat. I steal a glance down at my cheat sheet of meats: no fat layer. "No, thanks."

He slides a long knife under the fat and lops it off. Back on the scale, and now it's just a hair over four pounds.

"Perfect," I say. Then I hold my breath for the total. This recipe is explicitly supposed to be inexpensive. The name is Inexpensive Charcoal-Grill-Roasted Beef with Garlic and Rosemary. But you never know with meat. Just a couple more dollars a pound, multiplied by four, sends the price up a bundle.

"$5.99 a pound," the butcher says. Exactly as Cook's Illustrated predicted. Not too shabby for all that lovely meat.

Back home I mince garlic and rosemary, combine them with salt and pepper, and smear the mix all over the roast, then wrap it in plastic and pop it in the fridge, as instructed. It'll wait there, getting more and more flavorful, until the next afternoon.

What else can I say? The cooking went exactly as described in the recipe. My instant-read thermometer suddenly died, but we somehow managed to take the beef off the grill at exactly the right moment for a gorgeous rare center anyway.

My god, did it taste good. The herbs burned off for the most part during the initial sear, but they'd already done their good work overnight. Plus the lovely grill smoke and the tender beefiness of the meat. It was easily the best roast I've ever made, and I've done some pretty tasty roasts in the past.

Now the only difficulty is going to be grilling all winter long. Can I really put the grill in the basement after that performance?

Inexpensive Charcoal-Grill-Roasted Beef
with thanks to Cook's Illustrated

4	teaspoons kosher salt
6	medium garlic cloves , minced or pressed through garlic press (about 2 tablespoons)
2	tablespoons minced fresh rosemary leaves
1	tablespoon ground black pepper
1	(3- to 4-pound) top sirloin roast (see note)
	Vegetable oil for cooking grate
1	(13 by 9-inch) disposable aluminum roasting pan

1. Combine salt, garlic, rosemary, and pepper in small bowl. Sprinkle all sides of roast evenly with salt mixture, wrap with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 18 to 24 hours.

2. Open bottom grill vents fully. Light large chimney starter half filled with charcoal (3 quarts, about 50 briquettes) and allow to burn until coals are fully ignited and partially covered with thin layer of ash, about 15 minutes. Arrange all coals over one-third of grill. Position cooking grate over coals, cover grill, and heat grate until hot, about 5 minutes. Scrape grate clean with grill brush. Dip wad of paper towels in vegetable oil; holding wad with tongs, wipe cooking grate.

3. Place roast over hot part of grill and cook until well browned on all sides, about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, punch fifteen 1/4-inch holes in center of aluminum roasting pan in area roughly same size as roast. Once browned, place beef in pan over holes and transfer pan to cool side of grill. Open lid vents halfway and cover grill, positioning vents over meat.

4. Cook roast, rotating pan 180 degrees halfway through cooking and removing lid as seldom as possible, until instant-read thermometer inserted into thickest part of meat registers 125 degrees for medium-rare or 130 degrees for medium, 40 to 60 minutes. Transfer meat to wire rack set on rimmed baking sheet, tent loosely with foil, and rest for 20 minutes. Transfer meat to carving board and cut across grain into thin slices. Serve immediately.

Technique

Keeping the Heat Down

Traditional recipes for grill-roasting sear the meat over the hot side of the grill, then move it to the cooler side, where it cooks at a slower, gentler pace. To ensure an evenly cooked, rosy-pink, tender interior, we adjusted that approach in two ways: First, we minimized the overall heat output by using only half a chimney’s worth of coals—just enough to give the meat a good sear. (To replicate this effect on a gas grill, we turn one burner to medium and the other burners off.) Second, we shielded the seared roast from excess heat by placing it in a disposable aluminum pan when we moved it to the grill’s cooler side. Both measures help keep the roast below 122 degrees for as long as possible; past this temperature, the enzymes that tenderize meat are inactivated. And the more time meat has to break down, the more tender the results.

Shopping

Best Cheap Roasts for Grilling

Our grill-roasting method will work with any of these inexpensive cuts; however, some produced better results than others. The options are listed in order of preference from left to right.

TOP SIRLOIN
Flavor: ***
Texture: ***
Cost: $5.99/pound
Comments: This cut was judged "buttery," with bold, beefy flavor and ample juiciness.

TOP ROUND
Flavor: **
Texture: **
Cost: $4.49/pound
Comments: Though slightly chewy, this cut boasted rich, meaty flavor.

BOTTOM ROUND
Flavor: **
Texture: **
Cost: $4.49/pound
Comments: A little tough because of its large muscle fibers, bottom round has a rich, somewhat gamy flavor.

CHUCK EYE
Flavor: **
Texture: * 1/2
Cost: $3.99/pound
Comments: This roast packs great beefy flavor; but only if it's cooked to medium so the intramuscular fat can melt.

EYE ROUND
Flavor: * 1/2
Texture: **
Cost: $4.99/pound
Comments: Though its flavor is subtle, this lean, uniform cut won fans for even cooking, tenderness, and easy slicing.