"Piper Jaffray is adjusting its rating on shares of the Cheesecake Factory (NASDAQ: CAKE) to Neutral. It credits the company with being one of the industry's best-in-class operators and believes the company is in a much stronger position going into 2011.
"With no debt, a new revolver, and 6-9 new units expected for FY11, Piper is incrementally encouraged by the company's improved position. That said, it believes the bias towards the limited service and fine dining segments and their favorable strategic/demographic exposure vs. casual dining ultimately wins out....
"Piper raises CAKE's PT from $25 to $30."
It didn't hit me until about an hour ago. I'm supposed to write something today. Although I don't have time to write a daily post, my brain has almost frothed with potential subject matter this week. I know - major excitement, huh?!
I've nearly created all manner of fantastic, potential topics for today. Emphasis on the word "nearly." As expected, the week went its way through a treacherous to-do list and prep for a week of travel to company headquarters next week. Louisville, Kentucky - 40202. The Pink Palace. The Tower.
I always used to work at someone's headquarters. "Corporate." Since we moved to Colorado in 2002, I've been in "The Field." When "The Field" goes to "Corporate" in this instance, the preparatory instructions duly note that the dress code is different "there." We're advised that some of us may work in "Business Casual" environments. You know who you are. (Well, do you? I submit that some folks might not know.) You're coming to a Fortune 73 company, so you'd better act like it. I mean, dress like it. Dress in "Business Formal."
What in the world is "Business Formal?" My two-day orientation at "Corporate" at the beginning of my tenure in 2009 was filled with images of women in too-long skirts. Some of them teetered on heels so high, I could not even create a space between my thumb and forefinger to measure the distance. One of them hobbled to the ladies' room for a Noon teeth brushing appointment, and I thought she would soon be headed to the ER for a broken ankle instead.
What's formal about that?!
So, this matter is of some concern. Modest concern; but, concern, nonetheless. I won't be taking any seven-inch heels with me. You can all exhale now.
Of course, I have no intention of revealing my Business Formal packing list. Let's just say that it's heavy on black, leather, and metal objects. Sounds more like Business Torture, doesn't it?! (Yuck, yuck.) I promise, I'm leaving my whip at home.
No, the real topic for today's musing has nothing to do with clothing choices and everything to do with the health care industry. It necessarily flies directly in the face of recent government hand-wringing about dessert and the role dessert -- dare I add - chocolate dessert -- plays in our obesity epidemic and rising healthcare costs.
I could be in serious trouble for revealing to you that the best thing I made in 2010 was.................Triple Chocolate Cheesecake.
This confession likely marks the beginning of another potential tradition - you are probably already setting your watch and noting on your 2012 calendars that you can expect a post about "The Best Thing I Made in 2011" on the second Saturday of next year. Quite right. I could begin to schedule certain topics now, given my penchant for forward planning. It would eliminate all that messiness about searching for a subject, trying to be witty about it extemporaneously (I could be funny upfront), and set everyone's teeth on fire in anticipation.
I didn't start out to make this dessert for Thanksgiving - it was foisted upon me by a daughter who decided in 2010 (or sometime earlier when I wasn't paying attention) that she now likes cheesecake. From the Cheesecake Factory. Six or seven dollars a slice, I think. Sometimes, I open the refrigerator for morning orange juice and find about $3.72 worth in a doggy box. Before I jolt to reality, I sometimes ask myself if I'm supposed to eat it. No, it wasn't put there for me.
But, when queried about the dessert wish list (not with the intent to buck tradition, but to entertain new possibilities), I was not prepared for chocolate cheesecake.
Not because I don't know how to make it. I've made it with all manner of chocolate - bittersweet, semisweet, milk, "dark," (this label has created undue confusion in the world of cocoa bean labeling), "white" (all of you already know, there is no such thing as "white" chocolate, right?), and Godiva chocolate liqueur, etc., etc.
Along with pie crust and yeast bread, I had more than conquered cheesecake at sea level a couple of decades ago. Living at about 6200 feet above sea level now creates new horrors of baking that have yet to be chronicled on WFP, simply because I'm not sure the audience needs to hear about failure. I'm all about success.
So, although the internet likely harbors a trillion chocolate cheesecake recipes, I went to an old-fashioned paper file folder stuffed with recipes that have been triaged from magazines (yes, the kind you hold in your hands) over the years; but, not yet used.
Enter "Chocolate Bliss Cheesecake." Kraft Foods will be delighted to know that I still have this recipe, published in a full-page ad from a 2001 issue of Martha Stewart Living. You know this thing is old when you flip over the page and see an entry in a program guide for a Martha series that hasn't been on the air since, well, just after 2001. An entry entitled "Cooking with Rocco Dispirito" further ages the ad. And, frankly, probably should have rendered it useless. :) (I confess that I count one of his cookbooks among my collection. Mostly for the pictures :)
But, baking at altitude requires more than an adjustment of ingredients, ratios, baking times, baking equipment...truthfully, it's a long list. It demands a different way of thinking and a managing of expectations the likes of which I never thought I could absorb.
I now look for fewer ingredients. Fewer things to go wrong or be out of proportion.
I look for a smaller yield. Less cheesecake to throw down the garbage disposal, in the event of an aborted landing.
I look for less investment of time. Less time wasted on something headed for the garbage disposal equals more time for tasks that are not altitude-sensitive. Like laundry.
Yes, this recipe yields a nine-inch cheesecake, which seems like a lot. But, if you only make it when you have people around you to help eat it, you'll see it cuts down to size nicely.
Cheesecake also freezes well. We still have five slices of this one downstairs today. It won't stay there much longer, but we did have seven slices the day before Christmas. You get the idea...
One dastardly dilemma with cheesecake at altitude remains.
Crack. And, I do mean CRACK. (Not the drug. Duh!)
At sea level, we all demurely and slowly removed our cheesecake from the low-heat oven, resting it firmly on the countertop. We then used the thin, straight knife already waiting to take a twirl or two around the rim. This nifty technique dislodged the cake from the side of the springform pan before the thing even had time to realize it was out of the oven.
Nothing doing at altitude.
The very millisecond that cake comes out of the oven and hits the cooler air, along with the change in air pressure, it begins to tug and snatch itself with great velocity from the rim. It looks like the bottom of a dry desert bed before you've even traversed the 26 inches from the oven door to the counter.
Ah, you cheesecake bakers say. But, after it cools and you store it in the refrigerator for the requisite time, those cracks close up again. All is well.
I guess you don't understand what I'm trying to tell you. These cracks are deep, wide, and vast.
The only prescription is cosmetic surgery. Filler. I don't know, but I'm guessing that it's the culinary interpretation of collagen injections.
Otherwise known as Ganache.
I think the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services is coming up my driveway about now. But, yes, you're getting the recipe/technique for that, too.
I'm not sure how it happens. But a warm pool of ganache, carefully poured on the cooled cheesecake (before the whole thing goes into the refrigerator) closes the gashes and makes your Baker's One Bowl Recipe into a thing of presentation perfection. When sliced, no evidence or history of cracks is visible; even to those of us who are paying attention.
A thing of beauty. A tri-level, pure chocolate creation. Restaurant quality. Yes, even when compared to the one traded on NASDAQ.
The best thing I made in 2010.
Chocolate Bliss Cheesecake
Prep: 30 minutes plus refrigerating
Bake: 1 Hour
18 Oreo Chocolate Sandwich Cookies, finely crushed (1-1/2 cups)
2 Tbsp. butter, melted
3 pkg. (8 oz. each) Philadelphia Cream Cheese, softened
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp. vanilla (2 tsp. at altitude - you know who you are)
3 eggs
1 pkg. (8 squares) Baker's Semi-Sweet Baking Chocolate, melted; cooled slightly
Heat oven to 325 F. Mix crushed cookies and butter; press onto bottom of 9-inch springform pan. Bake 10 minutes.
Mix cream cheese, sugar and vanilla with electric mixer on medium speed until well blended. Add eggs (one at a time at altitude), mixing on low speed just until blended. Blend in melted chocolate. Pour over crust.
Bake 55 to 60 minutes or until center is almost set. Run knife or metal spatula around rim of pan to loosen cake (HA! Do it at altitude anyway); cool before removing rim of pan.
Refrigerate four hours or overnight. Makes 12 servings.
Altitude Crack Repair Ganache
3/4 cup heavy whipping cream
6 oz. dark chocolate (bittersweet), chopped
1 Tbsp. sugar
Stir cream, 6 ounces chocolate and sugar in heavy medium saucepan over low heat until smooth. Cool slightly. Pour over center of cheesecake, spreading to within 1/2 inch of edge and filling any cracks (HA!). Chill until topping is set, about one hour. (Well, ignore the one hour. The whole thing is best when chilled overnight.)
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