					
										 Share The Yum On Facebook									
																	
										Pin this recipe for later!									
																	
										Share The Yum On Facebook									
																	
										Pin this recipe for later!

This is the kind of cake I make when I want something that feels a little celebratory but still like home—velvety cream cheese, dark cherries that sing when you bite into them, and a chocolate-crumb crust that offers a gentle, familiar snap. I’ll admit: calling it Delish Black Forest Cheesecake somehow makes it feel both fancy and entirely within reach, like the dessert you bring to a friend’s porch on a slow Sunday and also the one you slice for yourself at midnight with a half-drunk cup of coffee. There’s a hush to it as it cools on the counter, the house smelling faintly of cocoa and warming cherries, and even the dog comes to the kitchen doorway and adopts a hopeful, patient stance.

What makes it special for me isn’t just the layers—though the contrast of tangy cherries, rich chocolate, and soft, cool cheesecake is exactly the kind of texture-and-flavor conversation I live for—but the rhythm of making it. It asks for a few calm moments: cream cheese softened on the windowsill, a spoonful of batter licked clean when no one’s looking, the small, proud clink of a springform being carried to the oven. It’s a dessert that tolerates gentleness. That makes it perfect for slow breakfasts, quiet celebrations, or an evening when we want something comforting and a little indulgent.

🍰

MORE OF OUR FAVORITE…

Share a soft story about how your husband or little family enjoys this dish. Keep it tender and homey, like a memory you’d tell over coffee. Feel free to describe the kitchen scene — morning light, quiet music, weekend chatter.
On a bright Saturday several winters ago, my husband and our little one decided to be my sous-chefs. He stood at the counter with flour-dusted forearms, reading aloud a line or two and offering commentary—gentle, goofy, the kind that makes you smile without trying. Our kiddo was in what I’ll call the “enthusiastic chef” phase: a hand dipped into the berry bowl more than once, cheeks sticky with juice and a silence that meant serious tasting. While the oven hummed, the dog waited at my feet like a tiny, hopeful sentinel. Soft music played—old vinyl, crackly and warm—and the kitchen felt like a small stage for all these low, important rituals.

When we sat down to eat, the light slanted in through the curtains and made the chocolate gleam. My husband cut the first slice with a steady, ceremonious hand, and there was an ecstatic little cheer from our kid, followed by the kind of quiet contentment that only comes after something delicious. I’ll always remember the sound of spoons meeting plate, the soft sighs, and the way everyone’s faces lit up when the cherries hit the roof of their mouths—bright and tart, a little playful against the cheesecake’s creamy hush.

Why You’ll Love This Delish Black Forest Cheesecake

– It balances richness and brightness in a simple, comforting way: dense, silky cream cheese with cherries that burst like small, tart surprises.
– Texture matters here—the crumbly, slightly crunchy crust gives way to a velvet center and a glossy cherry topping that slides across the tongue.
– It smells like cocoa and warm fruit, the kind of scent that quietly fills a kitchen and feels like an invitation.
– It’s flexible: I’ve served it at holiday dinners and lazy Sunday brunches, and both felt right. Sometimes fancy isn’t loud; it’s just thoughtfully cozy.
– It’s a little show-off without the stress. The look—dark chocolate crumbs, glossy cherries—feels celebratory, but the making of it encourages pauses, taste-tests, and gentle laughter.

Slow Moments

There is a small, meditative pleasure in letting a batter come together without hurry. I often stand at the counter with a mug of coffee cooling beside me, stirring slowly, tasting a sliver of cream cheese when no one is watching. You know those days when everything else is moving too fast? This recipe asks you to slow down for a few minutes—softening, folding, smoothing. I love smoothing the top with the back of a spoon until it’s almost mirror-smooth, then setting it in the oven and listening to the house settle.

Waiting is part of the charm. The oven’s low hum, the faint scent of chocolate growing warmer, the way the kitchen light shifts as the afternoon eases—these are the small moments I cherish. Sometimes a kiddo will dart through the kitchen, leaving a trail of laughter and a sticky print on the counter, or my husband will bring over a chair and sit with me while the cake cools, both of us breathing easier because we paused. There’s a tiny ritual in slicing the first piece: the slow, steady motion, the attention paid to not letting the cherries run away. It’s unhurried and completely worth it.

Time-Saving Hacks

– Use room-temperature cream cheese so everything blends quickly; it’s a small step that shaves off fuss and prevents lumps.
– Buy pre-made chocolate cookie crumbs if you’re short on time—your crumbs can be delicious without a lot of elbow grease. I’ll admit I’ve done this on weeknights more than once.
– Make the cherry topping a day ahead and keep it chilled; it thickens nicely and shortens the day-of work.
– If life is full (and doesn’t it always feel that way?), split tasks: one person handles crust while another measures and folds the filling. It makes the process feel like a little kitchen conversation instead of a solo show.
– A calm reminder: rushing the chill time will cost you texture. Slowing down here really improves the result—so when you can, breathe and wait.

Serving Ideas

– For a relaxed weeknight, a thin slice with a steaming mug of coffee is all you need—there’s something quietly indulgent about dessert for two.
– For weekends or small gatherings, serve with lightly sweetened whipped cream and a few extra cherries. The contrast of airy cream with the dense cheesecake is always a welcome duet.
– Add a few shavings of dark chocolate on top for a rustic finish that adults will appreciate.
– Pair with a bright, floral tea or a mellow espresso; each sip should punctuate the bite.
– For a festive table, scatter a few fresh mint leaves and let the cake be the low-key centerpiece.
– Complementary recipes: the image below gives a little visual nudge for presentation, and I often set this alongside simple fruit salads or a batch of buttery shortbread.

Tips & Mistakes

I once tried to hurry a cool-down because we had guests arriving, and the center cracked right down the middle. It looked dramatic and, honestly, a little mortifying, but the flavor was untouched and everyone kept saying how “rustic” it looked. What I learned: patience is a baker’s quiet superpower. Let the cake cool gradually; sudden temperature shifts can cause a fissure. Also, don’t overmix the batter—that’s where air sneaks in and plays tricks with texture. A gentle fold keeps it plush and smooth. And don’t be afraid to taste as you go. If there’s one part of baking I encourage, it’s this: be curious, not perfect.

Storage Tips

Leftovers are a small, lovely problem. I store slices in an airtight container in the fridge and find they’re delicious the next morning with coffee—the creaminess perks up after a night of chill. You can wrap the whole cake well and freeze slices for up to a month; thaw slowly in the fridge to preserve texture. I wouldn’t warm it in the microwave unless you like your cheesecake a bit softer; many of us here love it cold, a contrast of cool custard and warm thoughts. It’s absolutely perfect for a next-day treat, whether you’re nibbling quietly or serving unexpected guests.

Variations and Substitutions

I’ve swapped the crust for a nutty almond base once, and it added a lovely, toasty note that made the cake feel a touch more rustic. I’ve also tried switching the cherries for raspberries in late summer—the tartness is different but equally charming. For a lighter version, I’ve used part-skim cream cheese with good success; it shifts the mouthfeel slightly but keeps the essence intact. If you love citrus, a hint of orange zest in the filling brightens everything beautifully—just a whisper, not a shout. Some swaps didn’t work as well; once I used a very dense, oily cookie crumb and it weighed down the experience. The general rule: keep the textures balanced and the flavors kind to each other.

Frequently Asked Questions

I can’t have gluten… will this still work?

Absolutely. Swap soy sauce for tamari or coconut aminos. It keeps the same comforting balance—I often do this for family dinners.

Do I have to peel the pineapple first?

Yes—the peel is too tough. Once it’s gone, the inside is tender and sweet, which is exactly what you want here.

Can I use canned pineapple instead of fresh?

You can. Drain it well; it’s not quite as bright as fresh, but it brings a gentle sweetness when you’re in a pinch.

How sweet is this? Can I tone it down?

Of course. Use a bit less sugar, or try honey or maple syrup. I often adjust depending on the season or time of day.

What if I skip the sesame oil?

That’s fine. You’ll miss a gentle toasty depth, but it remains a warm, comforting dish without it.

Remember it later

Planning to try this recipe soon? Pin it for a quick find later!