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Cheese and Woody Allen

June 18, 2009

I am of the persuasion that Ina is a goddess at everything – she’s got the Midas touch, except instead of turning things into gold, she turns them into delicious vehicles for whipped cream.   I’m sure she makes things besides dessert, but as established in my last post, if it is not dessert, I do not care about that thing.  The reason I decided to write about this particular recipe is due to its absurdity.  It is so absurd, in fact, I’m having trouble with my witticisms, but maybe that’s due to the Dashboard Confessional I’ve got on in the background, all I want to do is cry now, great.  Thanks Pandora.  Ahhh now it’s that Goo Goo Dolls song, that sad one.  I’m changing this to Rihanna.

Moving on.  Yet another thing that Ina is amazing at is cheese.  She’s got this really gross sounding recipe for Coeur a la crème, which is fucking cream cheese, powdered sugar and cream, mixed together.  And you fucking eat this for dessert, with Gran Marnier, because Ina’s a total lush, you’ll turn around and she’s drinking straight up vodka at a gay cocktail party, and you say why did you even bother making those martinis, Ina?  You’re so fucking hardcore.

You toast, Ina.  You fucking toast.

You toast, Ina. You fucking toast.

So this cheese is foreign and strange, she makes it in like twenty different ways but pretty much she’s making a giant cheese ball, only slightly more refined than those things you see in those catalogues, not the ones from Williams Sonoma which are probably really delish (pretend I never said that), but those ones from Middle America that probably also carry those unfortunate reindeer sweaters and guides for how to appropriately style your mullet.  Those big ones people serve with Ritz crackers for football games and think, Aren’t we having fun?  Even though the height of class for me is shopping at Big Y and buying pants on sale at Sears, and my husband spends his days drinking at the dive bar and hitting on other men, and my children have that instinctive inbred look denoted by their strangely smooth, pasty faces and hooded eyelids – besides all of this, my life is not tragic.

Well, no.  Your life is pathetic but if the cheeseball makes you happy, then why the fuck not.  PS. I’m at work and we just got an email about how someone (nameless) in the office had swine flu and hey guess what?  That person totally sits right next to me, I do hate interns (excepting myself).

Anyway, as much as I’ve tried to enjoy the idea of cheese for dessert, I am only accepting of it in cheesecake form, preferably from Cheesecake Factory.  It’s a fucking factory of cheesecake, how can you go wrong?  Answer: by expecting any portion there to be an appropriate size for oh, say, one human meal.  No, no.  That one meal will feed for you for 4 days and a breakup, it’s fucking economical.  I can say though, the fact that I must only ingest sugar to properly experience dessert is not one of the great tragedies of my life, no that will be that upon the end of my existence when I fall into disrepair into old age, my children have abandoned me and cryogenics STILL HAVE NOT FUCKING PANNED OUT (plz note it has its own .gov website. thank you, tax moniez). This American Life talked about it, and you wanted to feel for the former president of the cryogenics dorks club, but then you couldn’t because he stuffed fucking 4 bodies into a cryogenics capsule because he felt so sad for the poor little French Canadian Jon-Vive or whatever and it got too hot because surprise those things aren’t supposed to be broken into until like 5000 years from now when everyone is walking around in silver like in Woody Allen’s Sleeper and getting in the Orgasmatron 3000 and now?  Everyone’s decomposed.  Great.

So here’s the cheese thing.

this is straight up cheese.

this is straight up cheese.

Let’s talk about how fucking absurd it is.

  • 12 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
  • 1 1/4 cup confectioners’ sugar
  • 2 1/2 cups cold heavy cream
  • That’s 4.5 cups of whatthefuck.  Confectioner’s sugar?  That’s just powdered sugar, which is fucking bullshit.  It’s just regular sugar, but ground up.  It’s not as sweet as regular sugar by volume, it gets all clumpy and it makes a fucking mess.  Just like a fucking baby.
  • 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
  • 1/4 teaspoon grated lemon zest
  • Seeds scraped from 1 vanilla bean
  • And then I don’t know, you mix this cheeselikestuff with flavorings and let the thing drain (DRAIN) overnight?  Like a blister after lancing.
  • Raspberry and Grand Marnier Sauce
  • 2 half-pints fresh raspberries

And then you make a raspberry sauce that is more or less alcoholic jam? Fine, I can respect that.  Anyway I made pudding last night and tofu was the main ingredient, it was yum but I think it proves that I really shouldn’t be valued as an objective judge for anything.

Calorie count: who the fuck cares, you’re eating cheese, you’ve got bigger problems.

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