Cheesecake to celebrate: Cool, creamy concoction is a sweet way to say ‘I love you’

My birthday is coming up next month. No, you may not ask how old I am because I’ll preempt your question by simply telling you: I’ll be 50. Five-oh. Not 49 any more, but not 51 yet, either. A good, round number, a number to be proud of, a number to celebrate – but not with regular cake. For my birthday, I’m making what my mom always made for me: her luscious, lemon-laced, cherry-topped cheesecake.

This is one of my favorite desserts of all time, and that’s saying something because I’ve tried a lot of desserts. There’s something about this cheesecake’s creaminess, its tanginess, its coolness on the tongue; it drips with tart-sweet cherries that burst in your mouth with every bite. (Pardon me a moment while I mop up this drool.)

Don’t misunderstand me: I love a sky-high slice of New York-style cheesecake as much as anyone, but that’s not the kind of cheesecake that my mom made specifically for me. My mom’s cheesecake is special because it said, in no uncertain terms, “I love you, my daughter, and I therefore invite you to partake of this sacred mixture of sugar and full-fat dairy products.”

The cheesecake, which never sees the inside of an oven, has the added benefit of being easier than spotting a fir tree in the Pacific Northwest. Well, maybe not that easy, but still extremely quick to throw together, with only four ingredients, plus the pie crust. So get in your car because we’re going straight to Yumtown via the shortest route possible.

Start with one 8-ounce package of cream cheese. The important thing is to let it sit on the counter for a while and allow it to come to room temperature. When it’s nice and soft, get your hand mixer and blend the cream cheese with one 14-ounce can of sweetened condensed milk. This may take a few minutes but keep going until it’s smooth. Next, add ^1/3 cup lemon juice and 1 teaspoon vanilla, and blend again until fully incorporated. There you go! Done!

Pour into a prepared crust. You’ll think, as you’re spooning it into the dish, that it’s never going to firm up properly, but it really will. Chill in the fridge for two to three hours. Just before serving, pull it out of the fridge and top with cherry pie filling. Dollop fruit in the middle or use the whole can, as you wish. If you don’t like cherries, you can keep company with my husband, who maintains a strict, cherry-free zone around himself at all times.

If you’re firmly in the “cherries, schmerries” camp, then get experimental! Top the pie with any fruit pie filling – try blueberry, apple or strawberry. Glazed fruit or fruit preserved in heavy syrup works best here; sliced fresh fruit has a tendency to leak into the pie. But if you’re going to serve the pie immediately, sure, throw on some fresh berries, fresh peaches or ripe apricots. Slice up a banana and saute it briefly in butter and brown sugar, then spoon over the chilled pie for a thrilling hot-cold contrast. Top it with strawberry jam, chocolate chips, praline pecans or crushed cookies. If you’re a purist, forgo the topping altogether and savor your unsullied slab of sweet, creamy scrumptiousness.

Now, for the Graham cracker crust: Crush 18 whole Graham crackers (two sleeves) to end up with about 1 1/2 cups of fine crumbs. Mix them with 1/4 cup sugar, 1/2 cup melted butter (a whole stick) and 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon. Press firmly into a buttered 9-inch pie pan or springform cake pan to await your filling. A note on the crust: this recipe makes rather a lot of crust, so the crust-to-filling ratio ends up being about 1 part crust to 2 parts pie. That was a bit thick for my adult tastes. The crust can be scaled back to 10 crackers, 1/4 cup sugar, and 5 tablespoons butter – but don’t forget the cinnamon!

If you want something nuttier (and gluten free), try a pecan, walnut or hazelnut crust. Crush 1 1/2 cups of nuts by putting them in a plastic baggie and bashing repeatedly with a rolling pin (it’s my cardio) or take the easy route and grind the nuts in a food processor. Add 3 tablespoons sugar and 1/2 cup softened butter and blend until combined. Press into the bottom of a pie plate and lick the buttery nut-crumbs off the palms of your hands. Now who’s 50 years old? Not me. At least not quite yet.