Crème Caramel: A Mating Call
JChef and I came to loggerheads about custard in the way two opinionated food lovers can on a cold December night in Manhattan. I had just come from a particularly delicious cooking class with a client where we made:
Caramelized Leek and Goat Cheese Tart
Coq au Vin
Celeriac Parsnip Puree
Crème Brulee
Now before I get into the JChef story, let me tell you about this class. As a teacher, I show students how to do things for the very first time. A deflowering, if you will. I teach them how to properly chop an onion, or sear a piece of tuna, and it thrills me. Remember that clip in the old Helen Keller movie where Anne is splashing water on Helen's hands until she understands how to sign "water"? That's the passionate eruption of understanding and communication I'm talking about. Teachers get this thrill when they take a student’s ignorance away, and it’s part of what makes teaching as much of an addiction as it is a noble occupation.
In this particular class the student had never created a brulee, or even held a vanilla bean. I put the bean in her hand, and showed her how to scrape the seeds and use the disassembled bean components to flavor the custard. After the crèmes were baked and chilled, we turned to the torch.
There is a naughtiness that accompanies women and their kitchen tools – the big old knives, the torches, the mallets and the cleavers. Watch an Italian Grandma take a cleaver to a veal cutlet and you’ll see just how cute little old ladies can be.
We ignited the torch and giggled, then taught ourselves the ins and outs of the safety lock when the thing wouldn’t reignite. (There was no way we were going to broil the crèmes– not nearly as much fun!). We covered their tops with sugar, and pointed the blue flame directly on the crystals. The crystals melted and bronzed, and her eyes popped. She insisted we eat one together, and we tapped the top with the side of our spoon. The brulee gave us a satisfying crack and we dug our spoons deep into the custard. She said what every cooking student says when I teach them this, “So really, that’s it? That was too easy.”
She grocked a new experience and now has a kinesthetic lesson learned for life. Which is good news for her husband, as he likes his brulee well done. (NOTE: If you see a pretty 30-something woman with long blond hair remove a small torch from her bag at any one of Manhattan's better restaurants and put a little extra brulee on her husband’s crème, say hello. They’re a lot of fun, and they’re likely to ask you to join them for a glass of wine.)
So I met JChef after this wonderful class and was blathering on about the joy of teaching crème brulee. He told me his absolute fave in the custard and burnt sugar category was crème caramel. I prefer flan, but he went on, kvelling about the caramel. I was pretty sure they were the same, and suggested as much, but then deferred, and demurred, and tried my best to act the part of a lady taken out on the town. He took me to The Mermaid Inn where we sucked down oysters and drank martinis and enjoyed an excellent grilled cabbage side dish that I'm sure is on his specials list tonight.
The date ended in a conversation about the fact that JChef is not looking to date anyone seriously right now; “it’s a timing thing”. And things were just getting going. This made me very sad, and is part of a larger New York City epidemic as far as I can tell. He left, with things clear enough that I've cancelled his birthday reservations for next week, but cloudy enough that I'm hopeful.
Waiting is not my specialty. When I want to be with someone and I can’t, I miss them intensely; I want a piece of them back. Sometimes I’ll reread old emails or romp around in a shirt that's been left behind.
For JChef, I’m making crème caramel.
CRÈME CARAMEL
Created by The Wooden Spoon
This presentation works best for a dinner party; one big creme caramel for everyone to share.
1 cup sugar, divided
1/4 cup water
2 1/4 cups milk
3 whole eggs
3 egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract, or preferably a scraped vanilla bean
pinch salt
hot tap water
1. Preheat oven to 325F. Prepare for a water bath by placing a 9-inch pie plate inside a larger vessel, like a large flat-bottomed skillet. Be sure that there is enough room in between the two containers so that you can add hot tap water in between them to insulate the creme (and keep it from curdling) during the cooking process.
2. In a small saucepan, combine 1/2 cup sugar and the water. Place over medium heat, and cover for 5 minutes. The sugar will liquefy; remove lid. Do not stir, or place any implements in the caramel; just let it be. It will starts to turn caramel color (should take about 5 - 7 additional minutes). Once the liquid starts to turn brown, keep an eye on it, as it can go from rich, deep caramel to bitter and burnt brown-black rather quickly. When it's a shade that works for you, pour it into the pie plate.
3. Meanwhile, bring milk to a simmer on the stovetop, and whisk together the eggs, yolks, remaining 1/2 cup sugar, vanilla and salt in a medium bowl. When milk comes to a simmer (don't let it boil over), slowly whisk it in to the egg mixture. Pour this into the pie plate, over the caramel. Fill the space in between the two vessels with hot tap water, and place in the oven. Watch the oven temperature, as the water should be hot, but never boiling. Cook for 30 to 45 minutes, or until the custard has set (test with the tip of a knife).
4. To serve, sit the custard in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes (warmer crème) or overnight (cold crème). Run the tip of a knife around the sides of the plate, and invert (over the sink, as you may have spillage). If the dessert has chilled for a while, the caramel may stocl tp the bottom of the pan. To warm the caramel, run your warm hands over the bottom of the plate, or submerge briefly in a plate of hot water. Invert, and serve.
NOTE: As mentioned above, there were a few minutes of debate as to which was better, crème caramel or flan. Well it appears that they're exactly the same; a custard made with whole eggs, yolks, sugar and milk (though some recipes also call for condensed or evaporated milk...). One's French and one's Spanish. A big Bronx cheer to JChef.
Caramelized Leek and Goat Cheese Tart
Coq au Vin
Celeriac Parsnip Puree
Crème Brulee
Now before I get into the JChef story, let me tell you about this class. As a teacher, I show students how to do things for the very first time. A deflowering, if you will. I teach them how to properly chop an onion, or sear a piece of tuna, and it thrills me. Remember that clip in the old Helen Keller movie where Anne is splashing water on Helen's hands until she understands how to sign "water"? That's the passionate eruption of understanding and communication I'm talking about. Teachers get this thrill when they take a student’s ignorance away, and it’s part of what makes teaching as much of an addiction as it is a noble occupation.
In this particular class the student had never created a brulee, or even held a vanilla bean. I put the bean in her hand, and showed her how to scrape the seeds and use the disassembled bean components to flavor the custard. After the crèmes were baked and chilled, we turned to the torch.
There is a naughtiness that accompanies women and their kitchen tools – the big old knives, the torches, the mallets and the cleavers. Watch an Italian Grandma take a cleaver to a veal cutlet and you’ll see just how cute little old ladies can be.
We ignited the torch and giggled, then taught ourselves the ins and outs of the safety lock when the thing wouldn’t reignite. (There was no way we were going to broil the crèmes– not nearly as much fun!). We covered their tops with sugar, and pointed the blue flame directly on the crystals. The crystals melted and bronzed, and her eyes popped. She insisted we eat one together, and we tapped the top with the side of our spoon. The brulee gave us a satisfying crack and we dug our spoons deep into the custard. She said what every cooking student says when I teach them this, “So really, that’s it? That was too easy.”
She grocked a new experience and now has a kinesthetic lesson learned for life. Which is good news for her husband, as he likes his brulee well done. (NOTE: If you see a pretty 30-something woman with long blond hair remove a small torch from her bag at any one of Manhattan's better restaurants and put a little extra brulee on her husband’s crème, say hello. They’re a lot of fun, and they’re likely to ask you to join them for a glass of wine.)
So I met JChef after this wonderful class and was blathering on about the joy of teaching crème brulee. He told me his absolute fave in the custard and burnt sugar category was crème caramel. I prefer flan, but he went on, kvelling about the caramel. I was pretty sure they were the same, and suggested as much, but then deferred, and demurred, and tried my best to act the part of a lady taken out on the town. He took me to The Mermaid Inn where we sucked down oysters and drank martinis and enjoyed an excellent grilled cabbage side dish that I'm sure is on his specials list tonight.
The date ended in a conversation about the fact that JChef is not looking to date anyone seriously right now; “it’s a timing thing”. And things were just getting going. This made me very sad, and is part of a larger New York City epidemic as far as I can tell. He left, with things clear enough that I've cancelled his birthday reservations for next week, but cloudy enough that I'm hopeful.
Waiting is not my specialty. When I want to be with someone and I can’t, I miss them intensely; I want a piece of them back. Sometimes I’ll reread old emails or romp around in a shirt that's been left behind.
For JChef, I’m making crème caramel.
CRÈME CARAMEL
Created by The Wooden Spoon
This presentation works best for a dinner party; one big creme caramel for everyone to share.
1 cup sugar, divided
1/4 cup water
2 1/4 cups milk
3 whole eggs
3 egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract, or preferably a scraped vanilla bean
pinch salt
hot tap water
1. Preheat oven to 325F. Prepare for a water bath by placing a 9-inch pie plate inside a larger vessel, like a large flat-bottomed skillet. Be sure that there is enough room in between the two containers so that you can add hot tap water in between them to insulate the creme (and keep it from curdling) during the cooking process.
2. In a small saucepan, combine 1/2 cup sugar and the water. Place over medium heat, and cover for 5 minutes. The sugar will liquefy; remove lid. Do not stir, or place any implements in the caramel; just let it be. It will starts to turn caramel color (should take about 5 - 7 additional minutes). Once the liquid starts to turn brown, keep an eye on it, as it can go from rich, deep caramel to bitter and burnt brown-black rather quickly. When it's a shade that works for you, pour it into the pie plate.
3. Meanwhile, bring milk to a simmer on the stovetop, and whisk together the eggs, yolks, remaining 1/2 cup sugar, vanilla and salt in a medium bowl. When milk comes to a simmer (don't let it boil over), slowly whisk it in to the egg mixture. Pour this into the pie plate, over the caramel. Fill the space in between the two vessels with hot tap water, and place in the oven. Watch the oven temperature, as the water should be hot, but never boiling. Cook for 30 to 45 minutes, or until the custard has set (test with the tip of a knife).
4. To serve, sit the custard in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes (warmer crème) or overnight (cold crème). Run the tip of a knife around the sides of the plate, and invert (over the sink, as you may have spillage). If the dessert has chilled for a while, the caramel may stocl tp the bottom of the pan. To warm the caramel, run your warm hands over the bottom of the plate, or submerge briefly in a plate of hot water. Invert, and serve.
NOTE: As mentioned above, there were a few minutes of debate as to which was better, crème caramel or flan. Well it appears that they're exactly the same; a custard made with whole eggs, yolks, sugar and milk (though some recipes also call for condensed or evaporated milk...). One's French and one's Spanish. A big Bronx cheer to JChef.
posted by Allison Fishman at 2:16 PM
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