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My First Cheesecake

It’s not my mom’s recipe, but it could have been

ake Photo by Amy Simpson on Unsplash

I’ve wanted to make a cheesecake all my life. Well, now, I can cross that off my imaginary bucket list.

Versatile, tangy, farmer cheese

Farmer cheese was a constant in my life growing up, a staple in our home. My mom used it to make savory pierogi and sweet blintzes, which we called nalesniki (na-lesh-nyee-kee). She used it in cakes, although I don’t recall her ever making a full-on cheesecake. I would even spread farmer cheese on toast and top it with a dollop of strawberry jam when there was no cake in the house and I craved a sweet.

Farmer cheese, wrapped in parchment paper, was sold in one-pound blocks at the Polish deli and some supermarkets. That was back when a pound was a pound and not 12 ounces disguised as a pound, like today. After my dad discovered St. Lawrence Market in the mid-1970s, which had a wholesale dairy outlet back then, he’d make the 35-mile trek once a month or so to load up on yogurt, kefir, milk, and, yes, farmer cheese. All the dairy.

We all loved dairy foods, but Dad was addicted. At one point he even made a deal with a local farmer to supply him with illegal raw milk. I say “him,” because the rest of us…