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Dear Cotton Blues Cheesecake,
I don’t really know how to say this because we’ve only known each other for a short period of time, but I think I’m in love with you. No, I have to be honest: I am in love with you.
We first met back in October when your makers took it upon themselves to send all 4 pounds of you in a large, dry ice-filled package from Mississippi to my apartment in Brooklyn. You were freezing cold inside of your little box, covered in ice crystals. You had a light brown swirl strewn about your cheesy countenance, which let me know you were more than just a cheesecake. You were a salted caramel swirl cheesecake.
Cotton Blues Cheesecake Sea-Salted Caramel Swirl Cheesecake
I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight given that fact I throw you directly in my freezer until it was time to thaw on Thanksgiving Day, and for that, I apologize. But you know what they say, good things take time. (Do you know that? You’re a cheesecake. A beautiful, sexy cheesecake.)
On Thanksgiving Day after two negative COVID tests, it was time for the two of us to drive to New Jersey and meet my parents. I was quick to introduce you to them, even though you and I barely knew each other. We were so young, then.
You kept to yourself in the kitchen the entire day.
“She’s pretty,” my mother said.
“I know,” I replied, as you stared at us from across the room.
Mashed potatoes were covered in thick gravy, turkey was swallowed, wine was guzzled and stomachs were filled, but around 45 minutes after we finished cleaning plates, it was finally your time to shine. Coffee was hot in the pot, the cookies were oozing hot and gooey chocolate chips and the family had just finished our second “walk.” You sat at the table, alone and waiting. It was time to dig in.
When I say you outdid yourself, I can’t even express how much of a hit you were with my family. Every single person sitting at the table fell in love with you that day. Tears of joy fell from everyone’s eyes without question.
“New York cheesecake is no match for this Mississippi-made beauty,” my father said with cheesecake in his stomach and tears in his eyes.
“She is truly so sweet, so thick, so fluffy. She is everything to me,” my brother said, smiling for the first time in six years.
Although you’re made with only seven ingredients, your texture was so rich that everyone at the table assumed you were made with at least twenty. You brought such a light to our post-holiday meal, and now my family is begging you to come back for Christmas.
Yes, you’re $65, and that is a lot of money for a cheesecake, but when I express that I have never been more sure about having anybody else at my Christmas dinner in my life, I mean it. You changed the holiday season in a way I never could have expected and for that, I thank you. You are invited to each and every holiday until the day I die. Even past that. I don’t care. I just need you by my side.
I hope the feeling is mutual. I cannot wait to see you in just a couple of days. I will be counting down each and every moment until we meet again.