“Baked Lemon Basque Cheesecake"
It all began with a wildly ambitious plan, as most camping disasters—I mean adventures—do. “Let’s go into the woods for the weekend for cooking and camping” I thought assuming it was a good idea....which it obviously was.
Thinking what can I cook...I've not really done pudding camping yet so let's see if I can bake a lemon basque cheesecake from scratch while I'm out there!.
But instead of asking, “Why would you bake a cheesecake in the wilderness?” I said. "Let's do this shizzle" 😄. So, cheesecake was on the menu.
Setting my gear and getting comfortable on my chair I sorted my Helinox Field Office ready. the super shiny, gloriously compact Coop Trangia 27 stove—the crown jewel of cooperative camping cookware I'm now finding. I also brought my Victorinox serated Knife, because we are men of class and many blades.
Sat in the woods in what was a perfect spot, the trees rustling and the sun just peaking in-between giving some wonderful warmth complete with chirping birds and a squirrel (only joking, no squirrels present this time).
And it began with all items set out including eggs, while lemon, mascarpone, sugar, digestive biscuits, butter and a pinch of vanilla and I set about working. Breaking the digestives by hand and then crushing with the end of the spoon, because I’m not a barbarian. Surprisingly effective though. The woodlands echoed with the sweet, crunchy promise of victory. Adding what turned out to be a little to much butter, it was mixed and pressed forming into the buttered (more butter 🙄) tin untill compact and firm.
Following a quick science experiment cooking carried on.
Remaining items all mixed and whisked vigorously until light and creamy and it was added to the tin and then with a fancy little grater some lemon zest that added both flavour and poshness to boot.
I turned on the Coop Trangia like a professional arsonist—I mean, outdoor chef, added a metal ring trivet to the bowl, dash of water and in the cheesecake went followed by the lid.
“You’re in the presence of art.” I thought of saying out loud but Chris looked heavily involved in his own masterpiece cooking. So I kept that to myself which is probably for the best.
With the Coop Trangia gently heating the pot I sat there like a patient little hobbit round a glorious stove adding a little water every now and again to ensure the moisture was kept in the baking.
Then we waited. And waited. And tried to listen to the cheesecake setting which was not easy.
What felt like hours passed but finally, with lamps and lanterns on and the smell of sweet lemon in the air, I lifted the cheesecake off the heat. Checked it and it looked great.
It was glorious. Slightly browned on top, firm but jiggly, smelling like lemony dreams and sugar-induced comas. It was left to cool and set over the next hour.
Then came the moment.
Grabbing my Victorinox knife, blade gleaming in the moonlight like Excalibur forged in a Swiss factory. With delicate precision I sliced into the cheesecake. Mmmm. A little longer disappointingly it needed so back on the heat it went, only to slightly over cook the base thanks to metric ton of butter used.
But after that...
perfection.
Sweet and smooth, with just enough lemon to cut through the creaminess. The crust held firm (well it would as the bottom was definitely on the well done side), the filling was light yet rich, and ready to be rammed into my belly after tea.
Later, full of lemon cheesecake and hubris, I sat back and admired my coop camping skills at work.
Room for improvement, definitely but would I class it as a success, definitely.
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