When I was a young, single woman just out of college, my roommate received a springform pan as a gift, and she asked me, “Haven’t you always wanted one of these?” The answer was a definite NO, because I didn’t even know what this thing was. For those of you who share my ignorance, a springform pan is a type of cake pan with removable sides. Mostly, these are used to make cheesecakes, but they’re useful in other types of baking scenarios as well.
The thing is, I’ve always been a really crappy baker. I don’t like directions and recipes and measuring things. The terminology always seemed confusing and pretentious. What’s the difference between ‘fold’ and ‘gently stir?’ When you’re told to mix, do you need a mixer, or might a spoon be sufficient? Why do things need to be ‘sifted together?’ Would the whole thing be ruined if I sifted them apart, out of spite?
So back when I was a youthful, tequila-shooting, pool playing, waitressing 24 year old, I decided that I would never need a springform pan. And for the most part, I haven’t.
Granted, I’ve changed a bit since then. Now I’m more of a middle-aged, coffee chugging, story reading, boo-boo kisser. The thing is, I am still decidedly NOT a baker. It’s a joke in my house. If it requires measurement or a recipe or any sort of ‘leavening agent,’ I’m out. I can mess up a cake mix from a box, and if a recipe requires me to sift anything, I will inevitably ruin it.
But, I need to make a confession. My husband will attest to this. At least twice a year, I come across an online recipe that I get excited about. Most often it’s a form of cheesecake topped with some sort of decadent chocolate. I swoon and salivate, and click on the recipe… only to find that it requires (you guessed it) a springform pan. Which (of course) I DO NOT OWN. I mourn the loss of possibility. I consider buying a turtle cheesecake from the local supermarket. I keep scrolling, with the goal of finding a cheesecake recipe more suited to my own limited abilities. These recipes are often sad substitutions, mixed into pre-made graham cracker crusts and lacking the luscious appeal of a treat created in a spring form pan.
“But,” I remind myself, “You are NOT a baker. You do not NEED a springform pan. You KNOW YOURSELF. Why would you spend money on a kitchen tool that is so obviously out of your league?” I’ve been having variations of this conversation in my head and also with my husband for approximately ten years. You do not need to point out how pathetic this is. I’m aware.
So the last time I encountered such a recipe (apple cheesecake with a pumpkin crust), it was the night before Thanksgiving. And I shushed that little voice in my head. I told her that I was going to check Home Goods for a springform pan while I was shopping that night. I wasn’t sure I’d find one, and I had no idea how much it would cost, but I committed to checking it out. So I did.
My inner monologue sounded like this: “They probably don’t even have one. They’re probably like 50 bucks. Oh, shush. Just look. It can’t hurt to look. Yep. Just as I thought, they don’t have…. Oh, wait. There’s one. No, there’s like ten. Wait, there’s a whole SHELF of these damned things?”
Ladies and Gentlemen, do you know how much a springform pan costs? I’ll spare you the suspense- $5.99. LESS than SIX DOLLARS.
I bought me a springform pan. I almost bought two. After ten years of agonizing over this purchase, I practically skipped out of the store. I called the hubs. “Guess what I bought?” I didn’t even wait for him to guess. “A spring form pan!”
“It’s about damned time,” he replied. Because I know him so well, I could hear the enthusiasm straining behind his exasperation. He wanted cheesecake, too.
I brought home my brand new pan. I set it in the cabinet, excited to put it to use the very next day. I stocked the pantry with the necessary ingredients and dreamt of cheesecake.
That was twenty-three days ago. The pan is still in the cabinet, and the ingredients are still in the pantry.
It turns out, I do know myself. I haven’t yet used my new purchase. I like cheesecake in the abstract, and I love the idea of making my own. It just hasn’t reached the top of my to-do list just yet.
But something beautiful has happened. I learned to shush that Negative Nelly whispering in my ear about all that I cannot do. I have now become the kind of person who believes in my own potential. Watch out world. I’m going to turn all that doubt into something delicious.
And I could make a cheesecake AT ANY MOMENT.