RSS Feed

My Sister’s Cheesecake

Posted on

You know what this is??… No, I’m not going to quote Kaye West’s ‘Celebration’ lyrics, although it is in a way celebration time b****s….

It’s this time of year again, when you watch ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’ and listen to the soundtrack while cooking or baking. Easter time.

It was my sister’s and mine tradition to always do that every year. My sister always used to make for Easter the most delicious and moist cheesecake, total indulgence and no apologies…

And we have to keep the tradition going, even when we are parted by the English Channel (called by French and Poles La Manche). So there it is, put your apron on, and ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’ soundtrack on and get baking.

And by the way, ‘Superstar’ is the one of five musicals I can watch, I’m allergic to musicals otherwise….



My Sister’s Cheesecake

1 kg quark

6 eggs

60g unsalted butter

1/2 cup xylitol

1 vanilla budyn (Polish thing, you can replace it with 3 spoons of potato starch or cornstarch)

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 vanilla pod

1 cup raisins

1 cup almonds

1. You have to start by soaking almonds in hot water for 3-4 hrs, then peeling the skin off and chopping them.

2. Quark needs to be smooth. I have got handy small mincer which people use to mince meat and I use for mincing pulses and quark. Twice. If you can’t buy quark or don’t have a mincer, you can replace it with 1/2 kg ricotta and 1/2 kg mascarpone (but don’t kid yourself, it won’t be the same).


3. Melt butter and let it cool. Mix eggs with xylitol, vanilla extract and vanilla seeds scrapped from the pod. Add quark, and butter to egg mixture. Add budyn or starch, raisins and almonds. Mix well.

4. Bake in 170 C until golden brown. Let it cool. Enjoy.










About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: