I think I had my first cheesecake on my honeymoon. As far back as I can go in time, I think that was when I sunk my teeth into the softest cheesecake possible. Yes, it was then. I had just married my girlfriend and we were honeymoon-ing in Malaysia. This restaurant was on Bukit Bintang in Kuala Lumpur that served award-winning cheesecakes. I do not remember the name and Google didn’t throw up anything that could ring a bell.
I didn’t care much for cheesecakes. My wife, however, was quite the enthusiast. As I manoeuvred my knife into the cloud-soft marble cheesecake, I was completely unprepared for the experience that would erupt in my mouth. Soft, creamy, like a welcome wintry duck-feather quilt, rich, satin-smooth, like clouds, the even sweetness spreading like a sheet of rain, crumbly biscuit bed adding the crunch and then – no, it cannot be – a hint of salt!!!
My exterior was calm. I didn’t want my wife to think that I didn’t know they used a hint of salt in cheesecake. I felt like a late-bloomer. I was thinking of all the moments in life where I might have given that impression. As my tongue swirled like honey dripping from a honey-sceptre, I couldn’t get over the fact that there was salt in a sweet dish!
We ‘umm’-ed and coo-ed. Said good things about the cheesecake. The missus decided to ask for another one with a different flavour. I thought it opportune to mention the salt. And so, like somebody who knew cheesecake from history, I mentioned the salt.
Wife with incredulity, “You didn’t know?”
Me, sheepishly, “No, no, I did, just mentioning how beautifully it has been incorporated.” (I suck at lying!)
Wife just smiled.
I didn’t ask her why she smiled. I don’t want to. Keeps the magic in the marriage alive!