Cheesecake with a Durian Reduction Sauce

Cheesecake in itself is a tiresome dessert to make, it’s likely to turn runny or somehow implode upon itself depending on the execution of its chef’s cooking skills. What is important to remember when making a cheesecake is that it’s truly a matter of life and death. There have been stories of people needing extensive therapy after making a runny cheesecake, but this does not dissuade people from trying to make this dish even more perfect. It is a perfect, entirely pure dessert, and for this reason it cannot be tainted by unskilled hands. The following recipe in itself is an especially difficult one, only reserved for master culinary experts.

The dish we are going to try and make today will have a durian reduction sauce. The durian, if none of you are aware, is the most tragic fruit in existence. Banned in several countries due to its pungent, overwhelming odor (although one can’t overlook the fruit’s arson, manslaughter, and insurance fraud charges as well), it is highly difficult to get imported into the United States. Your best chance of acquiring one would be to find a black market dealer from Malaysia on the deep web and then buying it at an inflated price. On the off chance that you manage to acquire one, instead of falling directly into the trap of a crazed cyber murderer, it’s simply a matter of preparing the durian to make the sauce.

Slice the fruit into fourths, then peel out the meaty, fleshy fruit with your hands. This may be the most upsetting part for some new chefs, as the odor of the durian as previously mentioned will no doubt smell like rotting flesh. It may feel like you’ve just hacked someone open and are harvesting their yellowed kidneys, which the edible part of the fruit is shaped like. After that, it’s only a matter of dicing them, placing them in a pot of boiling water with half a cup of granulated sugar, and leaving it on a low flame until it gets syrupy, a process that will take four hours on average.

While you are waiting for your black market durian to arrive in the mail, prepare the crust for your cheesecake. If you came into this recipe thinking you could store-buy one, one of our top test chefs from our kitchen has already been dispatched to kick down your front door and slap you repeatedly across the face, then steal the most valuable thing from your living room as you’re lying on the ground in a confused trance. And believe us, we’ve sent the tallest, beefiest guy we have. No, for this, our crust has to be perfect. We aren’t going to simply mash together some crushed graham crackers and butter into the bottom of a pan. Graham crackers are a stain on the face of all that is good and culinary. They were originally invented to be the blandest, least appetizing sort of food possible, in order to suppress young men and women’s urge to masturbate. So trust us, you’re going to want your libido completely intact upon eating this cheesecake, if you do it correctly that is. So for this, fresh-bake an entire batch of molasses cookies, and while they’re still hot from the oven, put them in a blender along with three tablespoons of softened butter and a teaspoon of cinnamon. Blend until well mixed, then press into the bottom of your cake pan until firm.

Honestly, I’m a bit afraid of sharing the steps to make the actual cheesecake here. This is the part where most people wimp out. If you want to be thorough, before any of the process of making this cake, you will have to have purchased a lactating cow in the prime of her maturity. From there, you will have to use her milk to make the cream cheese needed to give cheesecake its namesake. (Step-by-step process to follow in our next edition.) But if you cannot handle the stress and commitment of buying your very own cow to fill the void in your life that can only be taken care of through the use of dairy products and the day-to-day-lifestyle of a true dairy farmer, store bought is fine here. Pre-processed cream cheese doesn’t carry the same burden and horrendous past as graham crackers do. With a hand mixer, beat eight ounces of cream cheese, one cup powdered sugar, one tablespoon flower, one tablespoon vanilla extract (NOT imitation! Imitation vanilla flavoring is almost as big of a sin against cooking as graham crackers. But imitation vanilla hasn’t been used as part of anti-masturbatory propaganda, hence the ‘almost’.), and one cup of sour cream. After this has been mixed, add four eggs, one at a time, to the mixture until combined. Pour on top of your crust and chill in the refrigerator overnight.

However, if you want to be extra ambitious, replace the chilling process in the refrigerator by placing the cheesecake outside to be chilled. This will mean that you’ll have to make this recipe during the winter, preferably mid December-January, as by February everything starts to get slushy and won’t set a cheesecake as well as you would hope. When the cake is finished chilling, cut into pieces, drizzle some of the durian reduction on it, and serve to your friends and family. Or hoard for yourself, we won’t judge. …Too harshly.

But then again, if you’re a big enough idiot to follow through with this whole thing, we are going to judge you. Extremely. Remember that big fifth grader who pushed you down into the woodchips when you were a kindergartener, and you cried the whole time you had to get the splinters picked out of your chin with tweezers? I’ve grown up, and I’m back. I just wrote this entire recipe to trick you yet again. Oh man, you SO fell for it, didn’t you?! And that panel of test chefs I mentioned earlier? They’re all your other bullies from growing up. Every single one. Once again, we’ve dispatched the biggest, beefiest one to break into your house. Except this time you won’t get anything stolen, instead you’ll get a wedgie and then hung from a coat rack until your underwear gives out. Actually, I can’t guarantee you won’t get robbed. That’s not my business. You’ll have to figure that out on your own.

Bon appetit, loser!