Creme Caramel, So Saucy

July 17th, 2009  |  23 Comments

When I was an impressionable young teenager, I spent many a lazy summer afternoon splayed out on the outdoor deck, flipping through my parents’ food magazine subscriptions. Sooner or later, hunger would win out, and I’d get up off my ass long enough to attempt one of the recipes. Like a typical ungrateful youth, I held out my hand, begging for grocery money and a ride to the store. After a couple of hours, my sorry “creation” would be served—typically something like a dense turd of a shortcake, or a zucchini bread so wet and leaden, you could wring juices out of it. The folks were good sports about it, graciously sampling all the horrors that crawled out of the kitchen.

One particular day, I was leafing through said periodicals and suddenly let out an audible gasp. There, splashed across the page was what was called a crème caramel. It looked like a Miami beach babe, all shiny and glistening, practically quivering in its golden pool. Food porn, if I ever saw it. This was something curious alright, because in Russia they didn’t have anything like it. The desserts I grew up with were tall, over-the-top butter confections, injected with thick layers of buttercream, then coated with more buttery spackle. Don’t get me wrong, those were worthy, and I put away my fair share (or unfair, if you ask the bro), but this crème caramel business was something to behold. It beckoned and purred and I had to have it.

The recipe was intimidating. It asked for steps I’ve never attempted before, like caramelizing sugar, and baking small cups in scalding water. This baby was going to make me work for it. But how would I know if I was doing it right? A little existential crisis ensued over crème caramel. I took a calming breath and very patiently and methodically, followed the recipe.

Turns out, there was no need to fret because it wasn’t that hard. The steps were pretty straightforward. Once the beauties were all baked, cooled and unmolded, they gave up the same glistening, saucy puddle as in the photo. And the flavor was so much more than I imagined. It was silk on the tongue, and my head bobbed from side to side like a car ornament in my state of bliss. That day, it was just the two of us. Me and the custard. Perfection it was, with the sweet, cool cream dancing with the syrupy, honey-like sauce. (Am I going too far?) Pure luxury. As if lounging around all day wasn’t enough. When the parents got a hold of a plate, they nearly dropped their silverware. Though I like to think it had something to do with the dessert, it was probably from the shock that I had a success in the kitchen.

This is a great make-ahead dessert.

Vanilla Crème Caramel
Makes 6 5oz ramekins
Recipe can be doubled

For the caramel:
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons light corn syrup
water, approximately 1/4 cup (the amount doesn’t effect the recipe)

For the custard:
1 cup (8 oz) milk
1 1/4 cups (10 oz) heavy cream
1/2 vanilla bean or 1 tsp vanilla extract
1 cinnamon stick (optional)
1/2 cup (4 oz) sugar, separated
3 large eggs
3 egg yolks (from large eggs)
pinch of salt

Make the caramel:

1. Ingredients

2. Have your ramekins ready.

3. Pour the sugar, and corn syrup into a sauce pan, one with a light metal, so you can see your sugar caramelizing. Add just enough water to achieve a slushy, sandy mixture. Don’t worry if you add too much water. It needs to evaporate anyway before your sugar starts to color.

4. Bring to a boil over high heat. Do not stir. Swirl the pan occasionally to heat evenly. (Stirring increases the danger of the sugar crystallizing, where the sugar becomes cloudy.)

The edges begin to get golden. At this point, the sugar starts coloring very quickly, so stand over it and watch. Swirl the pan to encourage even caramelization.

I like the caramel pretty dark for a more well-rounded flavor. This next pic shows good color. Once it gets to this point, it will continue to darken quickly, even off the heat, so work fast here. This stuff is blistering hot, and will gift you burns you won’t soon forget,  so do be extra careful.

This one has gone too far. If that happens, start again. You’ve only wasted a cup of sugar.

5. Pour about a tablespoon’s worth into each of your reserved ramekins. You have about 30 seconds after pouring to swirl and coat the bottom of the cup before it cools and hardens.

Make the custard:

1. Ingredients

Split the vanilla bean in half lengthwise, and scrape the seeds into the pot. Throw the scraped vanilla husk in there with it.

Bring to a simmer. Stay close by. This mix has a tendency to boil over just when you get distracted.

3. Once it simmers, turn off the heat, then whisk the remaining sugar into the eggs.

4. Working quickly, pour the milk mixture into the eggs in a steady stream, whisking the entire time. This helps warm the eggs gradually, so they don’t scramble. (You might want to recruit someone to help with this maneuver,  or you can do it one handedly like me, and spill it all over the place, like me.)

5. Fill a large bowl with ice and cold water, like so.

5. Strain the mix through a fine mesh sieve into a medium bowl that will nest well in the ice-filled bowl.

Set the medium bowl with the strained mix into the ice bath bowl. Be careful that there isn’t so much water in the ice bath that it flows into the creme caramel base. Let cool. Whisk occasionally to help it cool faster (faster! faster!).

6. Once chilled to the touch, fill the ramekins, place them in a baking pan with high sides and pour enough hot water in the pan to come half way up the sides of the ramekins.

7. Cover tightly with foil, and carefully transfer to the oven. You don’t want the water in the pan to slosh into the ramekins. Bake at 325°F degrees for about 35 minutes.

The custards tend to bake at varying speeds. To decide if they’re done, tap each cup. If the centers jiggle like jell-o,  they’re done. They will firm up considerably more when chilled. If the centers still look liquidy, keep baking for 5 minute intervals, check again, and remove each cup as it’s finished.

I pull them out with tongs as they’re finished. Make sure your grip is good, as the water bath makes them slippery.

Here are overcooked custards. You can tell by the curdling and bubbling happening around the edges. This means they were in the oven either too long, or the oven’s too hot. You can still eat them, and they will taste kinda ok, but they will have that scrambled egg texture.

Cool on rack, then refrigerate for at least 4 hours, uncovered to prevent condensation. After 4 hours, wrap the cups in plastic so they don’t form skins.

8. When ready to serve, run a knife around the custard’s edge in one smooth swoop.

Invert onto a plate.

Sometimes it is a little stubborn about sliding out and requires a jolt. Give it a jerk like a martini shaker. Now that you’ve got martinis on the brain, make yourself a martini.

The syrup will pool around the dessert. Dig in.

***

Now that the recipe is done what do you do with this hardened mess?

Fill the pan with water and bring it to a boil. The whole thing dissolves.