Before 2006, we usually attended a family friend’s Thanksgiving celebration or picked up an assortment of dishes from local establishments. That all changed, however, when as a soon-to-be seventh-grader, I started cooking with the aid of Food Network television shows (I credit Giada De Laurentiis with my love for Italian cuisine). Months after watching my first cooking show and fumbling around in the kitchen, I proudly declared that we would cook a Thanksgiving meal together as a family. To coordinate the effort, I researched and printed out a scattering of recipes from the internet. We taped them to the cabinets of the kitchen and allotted tasks. I assigned myself the roast chicken (we’re not huge turkey fans) and pumpkin pie, my mom prepared the mashed potatoes, my brother chopped the vegetables, and my dad designated himself to dishwasher duty. Our petite Thanksgiving posed little pressure, allowing me to chop and cook with ease and composure.  That evening, feet achy from the hours of cooking, we sat down together at the dining room table and excitedly devoured the meal. Even though I was spent,  I felt immense satisfaction. I knew then that my family had started a new Thanksgiving tradition—one we could begin to call our own.  We stuck to the classics for the first few Thanksgivings, but at some point, the menu transformed from a traditional set of dishes to one of lofty experimentation. I liked the challenge of trying out a different menu and the knowledge that accumulated from learning new techniques. One season, we swapped out pumpkin pie for pumpkin crème brulée. Another year, we put an Indian spin on each dish, from garam masala roast chicken to cardamom-spiced sweet potatoes. We tried rösti (Swiss potato cake), Korean-inspired gochujang glazed carrots, and Greek-style feta dip. But while our dishes evolved, we continued to practice the same traditions. Come November, without fault, I scour the internet, magazines, and cookbooks for new recipes to try. After the meal, my dad appends the latest recipes to a worn binder filled with dishes from years past.  This year’s menu pays homage to my wanderlust for Basque Country, a region encompassing parts of Spain and France. Basque cuisine features a diverse repertoire of dishes that’s reflective of its varied geography. Across the region, restaurants serve a mix of fish and seafood, cured and grilled meats, and cheeses. On Thanksgiving Day, I expect to see a selection of small plates, inspired by pintxos (Basque-style tapas), featuring bites of toast topped with assorted spreads and cheeses. There might be a cozy potato soup, slow-roasted chicken with peppers, and vinegared green beans with almonds.  And for dessert? I’m taking inspiration from La Viña, a restaurant in San Sebastián, Spain, that serves a famous cheesecake (tarta de queso) known as burnt Basque cheesecake. This dessert breaks all of the rules with cheesecake because it bakes at a high temperature to encourage caramelization and cracks. The result, though, is anything but an overbaked cheesecake—its dark brown, caramelized exterior forms a sort of makeshift “crust” that protects a soft and creamy interior. The recipe from the restaurant is not a secret by any means, and chef Santiago Rivera has shared the how-to publicly.  I adapted the original recipe for Thanksgiving by incorporating pumpkin purée. I also mix in ground cinnamon and ginger, so the resulting texture mirrors the flavors of pumpkin pie. Best of all, the recipe is flexible enough to achieve the consistency you like. For a creamier cheesecake, bake for less time. For a firmer texture, bake for the full 55 minutes. Serve at room temperature (or chilled ) with a glass of sherry. 

Tips for the Best Basque-style Pumpkin Cheesecake

  1. Room temperature ingredients are important: Ensure the cream cheese, eggs, and pumpkin purée are at room temperature for the smoothest consistency. Cold cream cheese yields a lumpy texture.
  2. For a creamier center, don’t overbake: Remove the cheesecake from the oven when the outside is a medium-brown color, and the edges feel set, but the center is still jiggly. It will probably seem undercooked, especially if you’ve made other cheesecakes before, but this is the key to creating a creamy center. 
  3. Work with your oven to create the perfect caramelization: Once the top of the cheesecake begins to caramelize, it will brown rapidly within 10 to 15 minutes. Work with your oven to achieve the texture and color you’d like. If the outside is not caramelizing enough, you can raise the temperature to 500°F, keeping a close eye to ensure it does not burn. Or, if you want to preserve the creamy interior, use the broiler to brown the top within a matter of seconds. The parchment will have various pleats and creases—this gives the dessert its quintessential uneven edges and caramelization. Place the parchment-lined springform pan on top of a half-sheet tray to catch any spills in the baking process. Beat the mixture at medium speed for about 3 minutes or until the cream cheese is smooth, fluffy, and doubled in size. Next, add in the pumpkin puree, vanilla extract, heavy cream, and beat until combined, about 1 minute. Stop and scrape the bowl again to ensure the mixture is homogeneous and there are no streaks of cream cheese. At this point, tiny bits of cream cheese are okay, but if you see medium to large-sized clumps, strain the mixture through a fine mesh sieve before proceeding to the next step. You can also check for doneness with a thermometer by sticking it into the center of the cake. When fully cooked, the internal temperature should read between 150°F to 155°F. For a firmer cheesecake, bake for the full 55 minutes (aim for an internal temperature no higher than 180°F). For a creamier interior, take the cheesecake out at 45 minutes. You can store it in the refrigerator under a cake dome, or carefully place the outer ring back on the cake and wrap the top with plastic wrap. Refrigerate for 3 to 4 days.