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Has anyone ever paused, say in a subway, and wondered, Where and who
exactly did the cheesecake come from? A noble and profound question that is and
thus, I shall enlighten you today with the story of how the cheesecake was made
It all started with two Italian brothers in the famed Bartolomeo Cheese Shop
in London, England. The two brothers ran there quaint little shop with pride for they
were voted the number one purveyor of cheese in London for five years running.
They sold every manner of cheese also. From humble cheddar and cottage cheese
to the expensive Camembert and pule.
But as in all stories misfortune befell the two. There vast stores of cheeses
were plundered one night by bandits under the cover of night and when the poor
brothers saw this they broke down in tears. Not a single piece of cheese was left!
Except for one small pack of mozzarella lying forgotten in the corner.
Confronted with this disaster, the two Italian brothers puzzled over what to do
next. They had to remake their cheese, of course, but it would take too long! The
customers would be angry! They owned the best cheese shop in London for
Heavens sake!
They pondered day and night as to what to do; staring all the while at the
meager portion of mozzarella left with them. But suddenly, one early summer
morning, the eldest of the two, Enzo he was called, had a brilliant idea!
Giovanni! he called. Mio fratello! I have the-a perfect solution to our-a
problem!
The younger merely gave him long-suffering sigh. As-a long as you can get
us the-a money I accept. But-a you better do it soon. A wealthy French patron is-a
coming to our shop soon!
The elder immediately set out to their shop where he made what he called
the cheesecake with the mozzarella. You ask, how did he make that work? All I can
say my friend is that he is an Italian and Italians are very good cooks.
And so with his cheeks still rosy from his hard morning baking, the shops
front bell gave a ring-a-ling-a-ling. He poked his head out and found the
distinguished French patron his brother was talking about! He was not only wealthy
though, he was a French diplomat! A diplomat!
Hurriedly, he greeted the diplomat. Hello signor! How may I-a help you?
The lavishly dressed gentleman inclined his head. Bonjour. I ave eard of
your cheeses shop and ave come to see for myself if zhis little shop iz as
merveilleux as zhey say. What do you recommend, monsieur?
Now the poor Italian really didnt expect the Frenchman to come so soon and
he had been hoping to try out his new creation first before selling. But he really
doesnt have a choice now. Well, signor, we have-a the most delicious cheesecake
in all of-a London! In fact, we have only-a one left!
Well then! cried the diplomat. I must ave it! I will pay you two thousand
silly English pounds for it!
The Italian quickly accepted the payment. The money would be able to
support his brother and him until the next batch of cheese was ready! And the
Frenchman was soon on his way, venturing back to France.
Meanwhile, under the advice of Giovanni, the two Italians relocated their shop
to Italy just in case the Frenchman was not satisfied with their creation. London
mourned the loss of the famous little cheese shop, and rightly so too, England
would not have another cheese shop of their caliber for another five hundred years.
And now back to the Frenchman. He arrived back at his manoir and
immediately called all of his close Frenchie friends to a dinner. He had just procured
the rare cheesecake, from the Bartolomeo brothers no less! And so they found
themselves hurrying through their appetizers, soups, salads, steaks, bread, and
other courses until finally they were presented with the Cheesecake.
The diners immediately dug in as they say over there in America and found
instead of the taste fantastique they were searching for they found a cake so
disgusting on the tongue it could hardly be called a cake. They retched and coughed
and one even fainted! They called the Frenchman a liar and a scoundrel and angrily
left the poor diplomat in his now empty home.
And he was furious! And rightly so! He had been duped by the Bartolomeo
brothers and he will have their heads for making a fool of him! But alas, the
brothers had already left their shop in London and was nowhere to be found. (It was
later found, however, that they moved to the fair town of Verona)
With no way to avenge his pride the Frenchie turned on his head chef and
demanded that he somehow fix the atrocity of a cheesecake. Make it better than
what the Bartolomeo brothers could ever concoct and he will regain his honor!
The poor chef quickly set to work trying all types of cheeses until he found
two that were quite good. The cream cheese and the cottage cheese. He presented
these before his master and was delighted when the diplomats eyes lit up and
exclaimed, Zhis iz gnial, magnifique!
The diplomat opened a bakery in Paris to sell his delicious cheesecakes and
he made millions. Even the Bartolomeo brothers all the way in Italy were a little
jealous.
And this, my friend, is how the cheesecake we know today came to be.