Martje's Royal Lemon Cheese Pie

Baronous Hodge on cheese in Frewyn: "Dairy is an institution in Frewyn. Established in the time before Gods, dairy lived on the land and Frewyns merely came afterward. This I am determined about, for while there is a God of Plenty, there is no matron of milk, and every Frewyner was born with a piggin in one hand and cheese knife in the other. In Marridon, dairy products are treated as little more than necessities, but in Frewyn they are lauded as the cherished charm of the countryside. They are the currency of the country; a pound of salted butter in Frewyn is worth more than Lucentian gold to the right person, all of them being people in trade. Frewyn produces so much dairy that the country sells more than half of its yield to the north and still maintains a hale surplus, all of it good, all of it rich and exquisite, and there is no dairy more pined for than Frewyn-made, particularly that which comes from Glaoustre, where the Royal Dairy churns out the finest butter, cream, and cheese on the Two Continents. Every farmer’s wife knows how to do a cottagers cheese, but there is no cheese like that which comes off the line of the Royal Diary; there is some ancient ritual that is wheyed out which turns their milk into mould and money. We have cheese enough in Marridon, but ours is mostly hard cheese, all of it aged and untinctured in some way. Our cheese is got by science, but Frewyn’s wedges are formed by magic, if love can be said to be so. I have never seen such a trove of cheese, all of them good, all of them well tended and well loved. If butter is the scent of Frewyn, cheese is certainly the flavour, and there is a wedge for every season, every occasion, every holiday, every day of the year. The prodigious variety puts even the best cheesemakers in Livanon and Sesterna to shame. I lay it down that a Frewyner’s hardiness is from their cheese alone. They are absolutely preserved by how much fermented milk they eat. It is a wonder they should ever get through it all, but I have never seen a nation love a thing more. It is as ubiquitous as it is beloved, and it is used as a garnish as much as it is a main course. There are whole dishes of cheese, one of which is just a toasted triple cream baked and eaten with stale bread. There is a saying in the south of Frewyn, that every slice has its spread, and when one been through the production line the Royal Dairy and seen the columns of cheese lining the rows, the wheels salted and stacked and the pots poured over, no one can deny the Frewyn mastery of the squeeze. All their attention is for the curdle, and I have never seen a set of people so bent on having their milk sour. No one in Marridon thought to put cheese in a dessert until a Frewyn did it. Marrying a savoury with a sweet is a sin in the north, and when a Frewyners sins, he does it with full heart and sharp intent. Religiosity will bring out the rascal, and Frewyn, having so many holidays, must invent desserts for all of them, the greatest concoction of all perhaps is the Frewyn lemon cheese pie. It is really more of a tart, but with a soft cheese filling and delicate cheese top, it is a cheese cake if nothing else. It is absolutely immoral, an affront to every other dessert in the world. Nothing should be permitted to be that rich and delicious—I attribute the ten pounds I have put on since Ailineighdaeth to that alone."

Martje’s method: "Doin’ a good cheese pie’s real simple: you gotta have the right cream cheese and nothin’ else. Lemon curd and eggs’ll always be changeable, but you need a cream cheese that can

whip and bake right. We get ours from the Royal, what Breigh sends us up with Beryn on dairy days. For the fillin’, you gotta have a cream cheese that’s at least half moisture, so’s you can mix the lemon curd in. For yer crust, you can use a shortbread or bakecrumb. I like a crumb, so’s the cheese gets all in the cracks and bakes real well. Have yer crust ready in yer tin or pan. Mix lemon curd and a lash o’ lemon juice in with a good helpin’ o cream cheese. Once that’s mixed right well, add in two eggs and stir it till you can’t see the yolks no more. Put yer mix in the crust and smooth the top o’ it flat, so’s you got room for a layer o’ whippin’. Bake that for a good half hour. While that’s brownin’, whip some cream cheese together with icin’ sugar till its got a fluff on it. When yer pie is done, take it from the oven and let it cool on the range, and don’t let no one near it, ‘cause they’ll breathe on it and make it sink. While that’s doin’, fluff yer whipped cheese again, and don’t be thinkin’ nothin’ ruttish now ‘cause I knew yer laughin’ about it. When the pie is cool, spread yer whippin’ over top how ever much yer wantin’, or you can have it on the side to dollop on top o’ each slice after cuttin’. It’s gonna be a bit o’ a mess cuttin’, but just get a spoon ready. Cheese pie ain’t suppose to be good lookin’, kin. It’s just supposed to taste right."