By Rachel Hergett EBS COLUMNIST
Have you ever come across a dish so delicious that you mourn it after the last bite? Once gone, though it still lingers on your tongue, you may even regret trying it. Who knows when (or if) you get the pleasure of another taste?
I came across such a food on Memorial Day weekend, while on a quick overnight to Salt Lake City for a Qveen Herby concert. This means another taste of said food is, according to Google Maps, currently a six-hour and 23-minute drive away from Bozeman. Not ideal. But damn if I can’t stop thinking about it.
It’s possible a part of me is writing this now so you may share in my pain. But this column also serves as a reminder to take a look around you. There are adventures in food to be had if you only slow down long enough to discover them.
This food adventure started on a Sunday afternoon, when my friend Amy and I checked into our Airbnb near our SLC concert venue, The Depot. We unpacked, decompressed and settled into the space a bit before I started getting my bearings on the world around us. Maybe I would walk to the temple or check out the coffee place down the street that the Airbnb host recommended. I went to Google Maps to check out the area and found that there was one business even closer than the coffee shop. It was directly across the street and obviously repping a dessert I love: cheesecake. Plus, it had a perfect five-star rating.
But when I looked across the street, all I saw was an apartment block. What and where was this Turkish Bliss Cheesecake? The listed website was only an Instagram page, @burntbliss_slc.
“A Turkish guy who fell in love with burnt cheesecake and now sharing my homemade creations with you,” the Instagram bio read.
We’re talking the smallest of small businesses, I thought. This is a dude making cheesecake out of his apartment. And I love supporting the little guys. Reading through info on the Google listing and Instagram page, I learned that he asked for a 24-hour lead time. I didn’t have that, with plans to leave by 10 the next morning. But I sent him a message on Instagram anyway. Did he possibly have a cheesecake on hand? Or could I get my hands on one before our departure?
The person on the other end of the messages replied almost immediately to the affirmative. Sure, he could have a cheesecake ready for me by the morning. He even consented to finish earlier when I messaged him late night post concert with a desire to hit the road back to Montana a little earlier. I suspect he stayed up all night to make it for me.
“I’m here, where can I find you?” I message at 9 a.m. on Memorial Day, waiting outside the apartment block with cash in hand to make what could be described as a shady cheesecake deal. A few minutes later, a smiling, dark-haired twenty-something man emerges, carrying a large white box. That’s got to be him.
Anil, it turns out, is the sweetest young man. He shyly consented to having his picture taken then balked at the idea I would tip him, even though he only charged $30 for a nine-and-a-half-inch cheesecake.
Anil’s “Turkish cheesecake” is also known as a San Sebastian cheesecake or Basque cheesecake. It’s crustless and baked in parchment with the top exposed so that it “burns.” The result is a cheesecake with a creamy, custard-like center that solidifies toward the edges and creates its own sort of crust as it bakes at a fairly high heat. I’ve had a Basque cheesecake before. This one, however, was on a different level.
I had cheesecake for breakfast that day, marveling at the caramelization Anil achieved and how much it added to the cheesecake. My only negative is I didn’t love the included chocolate sauce. It was maybe too watery and sugary, like a slightly thicker version of Hershey’s chocolate syrup. The cheesecake didn’t need it anyway. Eating it plain only highlighted the complexity that the burnt caramelization added to a seemingly simple dish.
I ate on the thing all week, only sharing a few slices when I had company. Admittedly, I even spent a solid half hour scraping the burnt bits off the parchment paper after I ate the last piece. It was that good.
Now, Anil is sitting at 4.8 stars thanks to a single negative review that was posted between my Salt Lake City trip and writing this column. The reviewer gave three stars, but never even tried the cheesecake.
“I was really looking forward to some yummy cheesecake, but the location is a private residence and therefore we were not able to pick up anything and we could not figure out how to order it online,” wrote one Benjamin Eaton.
Well, Benjamin. You have no sense of adventure, patience, or internet sleuthing skills. Yet the cheesecake is still there for you, if you wish to seek it out.
As for the rest of you, if you happen to be passing through or staying in Salt Lake City, message Anil, who still has every bit of a five-star rating in my book. Or look around, and you may end up on your own cheesecake adventure.
Rachel Hergett is a foodie and cook from Montana. She is arts editor emeritus at the Bozeman Daily Chronicle and has written for publications such as Food Network Magazine and Montana Quarterly. Rachel is also the host of the Magic Monday Show on KGLT-FM and teaches at Montana State University.
