15 graham crackers, crushed
2 tablespoons butter, melted
4 (8 ounce) packages cream cheese
1 1/2 cups white sugar
3/4 cup milk
4 eggs
1 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
Ruben Lilit grumbled to himself as he finished fluffing out and measuring the flour to exactly one forth of a cup, painstakingly leveling off the excess with the back of a knife. This was the President's third try, and he was sure he would get it right this time. There he was, hunched over the kitchen sink, sleeves rolled up, latex gloves over hands, and black hair pulled back into a mini-ponytail. Rubenās masked face was inches away from the metal deviceās flat rim, his blue eyes narrowing in concentration. This was it. Closer... closer.... There. Perfect. Finally.
The nineteen year old straightened. With all of the ingredients prepared, the prepping was done, and now the real baking could be started. Ruben knew it was a little unconventional for all of the ingredients to be measured beforehand, but he knew from experience that such delicate procedures were best done in advance. Thus, the Student Councilās kitchen was well-equipt with multiple measuring devices. Ruben retrieved the graham cracker crumbs and melted butter, beginning the process of mixing and pressing for the creation of the perfect crust.
Hands busy, Rubenās mind began to wander as the stress melted away. It was the start of the new school year, and he knew what that meant. Gone, were the peaceful days of reading and relaxation, undisturbed baking, and Morpheo wandering into the picture every so often. It was time to get to work. Or, at least, it shouldāve been. Today being Aalamās birthday, Ruben seriously doubted the likelihood of anything productive getting done during the first meeting of the year. Destructive was the better word.
But a birthday was a birthday, and while Ruben predictably didnāt see any point in the act of congratulating someone for an accomplishment they had little part in, the occasion did offer an opportunity to bake.
Behind his medical mask, Ruben gave a wistful smile. At this point, he had already moved on to the heart of the process and was loving every second of it. Taking the recipient into consideration, Ruben had decided settle with simple; your basic New York Cheesecake. Less crumbs, and no frosting to throw all over the place. The President glanced down, noticing a change in texture. Perfectly smooth. Without rush, Ruben poured the filling into the prepared crust, and slid the springboard pan into the preheated oven, hands lingering almost regretfully. He retrieved the magnetic timer from the fridge, and after setting it to alert him ten minutes in advance, set it to go off in an hour; clipping it to the inside of his pantsā pocket. Ruben glanced at the clock. 5:30 AM.
Even after he turned off the oven, the cake would still require about seven hours to cool inside. Until then, Ruben intended to spend his time locked in the seclusion of his room on the forth floor.