My Take on Basque Cheesecake: Creamy Chaos, Controlled

_{(The picture is from La Vasca, for me the best I’ve ever tried, the recipe is a take on AMA’s Cheesecake. Both are inspired by a crossover of La Viña’s style and Hilario Arbelaitz’s legendary recipe.)}

Check out our cheesecake podcasts episode 1 and episode 2

The first thing you should know about Basque cheesecake is that it’s not some centuries-old recipe passed down through generations—it’s barely over 25 years old. And yet, in that short time, it’s gone from a humble restaurant dessert to a global phenomenon. Somewhere along the way, the name “Basque cheesecake” (yes, in English) took over, replacing what used to be called “tarta al estilo de La Viña.” That shift alone says a lot about how new food traditions are born. By the time The New York Times named it the “flavor of the year” in December 2020, the cake had already outgrown its origins—and its success hasn’t slowed down since.

My favourite version sticks to the core of what makes it special: texture, balance, and a quiet little secret.

Here’s my formula:

• 550 g heavy cream
• 820 g cream cheese
• 270 g sugar
• 5 whole eggs
• 5 egg yolks
• 25 g strong cheese (a light blue cheese or Parmesan, even Cheddar is a thing)
• 1 tbsp flour or corn flour (Optional)

Everything gets weighed. No eyeballing. You can blend the batter using a regular or immersion blender—both work just fine. If you’re adding flour or an alternative like corn flour, make sure to dissolve it first in the cream to avoid lumps. You can also skip the flour altogether for an even creamier result. No need to whip the cream or fold anything gently; this isn’t a soufflé. Just blend everything until smooth and you’re good to go. The Batter is then poured into a round cake mold lined with baking paper. Into a preheated oven at 210°C (410°F), it bakes for 30 to 35 minutes. It should be dark brown, never black(for me).And then you wait—because the real texture doesn’t show up until the cheesecake rests.

Now, the trick: the cheese within the cheese. I add a small dose—just 25 grams—of something funky. Blue cheese or finely grated Parmesan. It’s not there to be noticed, but to be missed if it’s gone. That hint of umami adds depth you can’t quite name, but you feel it.

A pinch of salt rounds it out. It’s not as sweet as a New York cheesecake, and that’s the point. It’s about balance. Soft, savory, just enough sugar to keep things luxurious.

One more thing: timing is everything. I let the batter rest overnight, bake it the next day, and then let it cool down completely before slicing. At home, resting it for 40 minutes at room temp after baking does the trick—just long enough to settle but still warm and jiggly.

A good Basque cheesecake, in my opinion, needs no sauces, no coulis, no chocolate—nothing. Just the pure flavor of dairy at its fullest expression. That’s what the blue cheese is for. And here’s a fun fact: in the Basque Country and in Spain, no one calls it “burnt cheesecake.” So if someone tells you it has to be burnt black, that it can’t ever have a crust, or that the center must be firm—run. Run fast. Those are false prophets.