Flan

Courtesy of Epicurious.com

While often associated with Spanish cuisine, flan is really just a crème caramel. In fact, according to its etymology, the origin of flan is flaon, or “flat,” from the Old French. The word refers to its flat or broad appearance, particularly when baked in one dish rather than in individual ramekins. In South Africa, it’s called a melktert, or milk tart and that’s exactly what it is. At its base, it’s a custard with eggs, milk or cream, vanilla, and sugar. Throughout history, custards can be found to be both sweet and savory. (A quiche is essentially a savory custard base in a pie crust.)

Flan is not to be confused with panna cotta, although very similar. The Italian dessert has a custard base too, but calls for gelatin to solidify it. Both dishes, however, are served cold.

There are a gazillion recipes for flan online. Some even call for condensed or evaporated milk, which I think makes it a little too thick and cloyingly sweet. It’s already got a glaze of caramelized sugar plus another ¾ cup of sugar in the mixture. Then you want to incorporate a sweetened milk too? Overkill, man.

For this one, I went old school and stuck to a tried-and-true source: The Joy of Cooking. It tasted great, but ended up looking like crap. There are a couple of reasons for this. One, the mixture was a little too soft and didn’t set well (as a result of a quick pick-up of one of my daughters and turning the oven off prematurely). Two, I didn’t caramelize the sugar long enough. I was afraid of burning it—which can happen pretty quickly with sugar—so I took it off the heat a little too soon. (I see a pattern here…) The next time, I will allow for a little more set time for the custard and deepen the color of the sugar. But this is a dessert that can be made ahead easily—once, of course, you’ve got the technique down.

Here’s the recipe:

CARAMEL GLAZE:

¾ c. sugar

¼ c. water

CUSTARD:

5 large eggs

¾ c. sugar

⅛ tsp. salt

3 c. milk

¾ tsp. vanilla

Preheat oven to 325 F degrees.

Place sugar in a heavy saucepan and drizzle water evenly over the top. On medium heat, gently swirl the pan to incorporate sugar and water together and to clarify the mixture. Increase heat to high. Cover pan for a two-minute rolling boil. Uncover and cook until an amber color. Pour caramel into baking dish and swirl up the sides.

Whisk the eggs, sugar, and salt until blended. Heat the milk until steaming. Gradually whisk in the heated milk into the egg mixture until the sugar is dissolved. Add vanilla. Pour into dish. Bake on a rimmed baking sheet with enough water to come about halfway up the sides of the baking dish. Bake for about 1 hour. Refrigerate to set for 4 hours or up to 2 days.

Layer Cake

I tend not to be a dessert person. Not because I lack an immense sweet tooth—au contraire, mon cheri. I just prefer to fit into my pants.

Layer cake is one of those luscious dishes that seem so extravagant. It’s an indulgence. A whole slice of cake is a commitment. It’s not just a macaron or a piece of chocolate you can pop in your mouth and just walk away, no one the wiser. This is a sit-down, look-at-this-I’m-having-dessert kind of thing.

For this recipe, I consulted the Mast Brothers. Former Down Easters-cum-Brooklynites and the “pioneers of bean-to-bar,” these guys are on the top of their game when it comes to all things chocolate. So when making a layer cake, I deferred to the chocolate gods.

I was proud of myself. I followed Ina Garten’s major rule of thumb: always read the whole recipe from start to finish. I get impatient and just jump in sometimes only to realize I missed a step or forgot a pertinent piece of equipment at the very moment I’m stirring something molten.

Yet, I still screwed up. Here’s where I went wrong: I let the sugar caramelize a little too long. It should have been a golden brown and it was just, well, brown. The cake was not quite done when I first tested it, so I let it go for a few more minutes. I should have let it sit. The extra time dried it out. I’ll remember that for next time.

The upside? It looks damn good. A picture-worthy cake if ever there was one.

Here’s the recipe:

CAKE:

6 eggs

2 c. sugar

2 cups cake flour

¾ c. cocoa powder

2 tsp baking powder

FROSTING:

2 c. sugar

2 c. heavy cream

3 oz. dark chocolate, chopped

Cake:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Butter two 9” round cake pans. In a large bowl or the bowl of a standing mixer, beat eggs and sugar until thick. Combine flour, cocoa powder, and baking powder in a medium bowl and sift them into egg mixture. Fold them in lightly until mixture is smooth. Pour batter into cake pan. Bake for 15-20 minutes. (Check with cake tester for doneness.) Let cool completely.

Frosting:

Caramelize sugar in a saucepan over medium heat until golden brown. In a separate saucepan, heat heavy cream. Carefully pour over caramelized sugar.  Bring to a boil and dissolve all of the sugar into the cream. Pass caramel sauce through a sieve into a bowl containing the chocolate. Let melt for one minute. Stir in tight circles until emulsified. Spread frosting between each cake layer and on top and sides of cake.

Dim Sum

Hong Kong from the Kowloon ferry

I’ve had dim sum in a number of different Asian restaurants over the years. But I don’t think I truly appreciated these little mouth-watering poppers until I went to Hong Kong. They come filled with just about anything you want to put in it: beef, chicken, pork, shrimp or a variety of veggies. But, it is most often ground pork or shrimp that we see in this country.

Lucky Peach offers a good guide to eating dim sum with the number of different ingredients, wrappers, and condiments. Serious Eats also gives a nice round up of them with an added guide for eating etiquette. Both sites discuss how dim sum is typically eaten on the weekend as brunch, called Yum Cha in Cantonese. The cha indicates the tea that is often drunk with dim sum.

There are two ways dim sum is usually served. You can fry them folded over like a pierogi or empanada or you can steam them. They may taste delicious fried, but who needs the added fat and calories? I prefer them steamed and it’s not as difficult as one might think.

Courtesy of Serious Eats

One thing you do need is a good bamboo steamer and rice or parchment paper to prevent these little goodies from sticking to the bottom. I pop the steamer on top of my wok with about 2” of water in the bottom. Once the water starts to boil, I can set it and wait for them to cook (usually about 5-6 minutes). Obviously, if you’re cooking with pork, you want to make sure that it’s cooked all the way through. I usually have one “sacrifice” to mutilate so I can see if the meat is done. Once you’ve got an idea of how many minutes, you can just keep cycling the dim sum in and out of the steamer until you’re finished. Serve with a little dipping sauce and you can make this a snack or a meal.

Here’s my recipe that got rave reviews (from my family, at least):

DIM SUM:

1 lb. ground pork

2 TB. soy sauce

1 tsp. Sriracha

1 tsp. sesame oil

1 tsp. rice wine vinegar

1 large garlic clove, minced

½” knob of ginger, minced

2 scallions, chopped

1 pkg. round won ton wrappers

DIPPING SAUCE:

¼ c. soy sauce

1 small garlic clove, minced

½ tsp. sesame oil

¼ tsp. ginger, minced

½ tsp. sesame seeds

Scenes from Germany

When planning a European trip, most people think of Paris, Rome or maybe Barcelona. Germany is not necessarily top on the list, which is too bad. You’re really missing something special. Berlin is as diverse and cultural as New York City while still maintaining its historical past. But for a true German experience, I would head south.

Munich certainly has its charms and I love the city sprawl. But I would look a little to the left. I’m very partial to the Black Forest, or Schwarzwald. Here is where the rolling hills and dark trees surround white washed Tudor homes with red geraniums in the window boxes. This is where you will find true German fare—meats, breads, and cheeses for breakfast, every kind of schnitzel, and spätzle, spätzle, spätzle.

Spätzle, especially käse spätzle, is just Germany’s answer for comfort food. It’s pasta in little bedraggled pieces that get doused in cheese. What’s not to love? But Germans don’t stop there. One of their favorite versions of spaetzle involves champignons, or little tiny mushrooms. That’s certainly true if you are close to the French border with the Alsace Lorraine region, another gem in Europe that is grossly overlooked.

This whole section of the globe is quintessential Europe. When you think of winding, cobbled stone streets, this area should come to mind. So very quaint. But it can also be pretty cosmopolitan.

We recently stayed in Baden Baden, a resort spa town based on Roman baths set up on naturally occurring springs. (Friedrichsbad is the well-known spa in the center of town and takes advantage of the spring water. Prepare to be nude with strangers.) With fountains literally everywhere you go, this lazy town boasts high-end shops and boutiques, fine restaurants, and plenty of up-hill walking.

And then, there’s the beer. Light or dark (helle or dunkel), a nice stein of hefeweizen is where it’s at. The Germans are pretty particular about their ingredients, too. Much like other areas of Europe that have restrictions on region, country of origin, and how a product is made, Germany has Reinheitsgebot, or the German Beer Purity Law. Only three ingredients are allowed to brew beer: barley, hops, and water.

While the Germans have certainly managed to create a fantastic product with just three things, I do think it limits them to one flavor. Here in the U.S., our craft breweries offer a range of different beer types and flavors. Add herbs? Sure. Fruit? Not a problem. To Germans, that’s heresy. But, Americans have rediscovered the joys of beer and don’t want to be confined by ingredients. We have porters, stouts, ales, lagers, and pilsners with every imaginable combination. Sometimes, I wonder what Germans would think of an American brewery that served a Sierra Nevada or a Geary’s Pale Ale. Would they love it or hate it?

When it comes to the region’s wines, I found them a little disappointing. Most whites tend to be on the sweet side, of which I am no fan. The reds are a little thin and Germany has a much smaller percentage of their wine crop devoted to reds anyway. I did have a pleasant glass of Müller-Thurgau, but again a touch on the sweet side. It would, however, have paired well with a charcuterie board and cheeses. The German sparkling wine was also a pleasant surprise. Crisp, fruity, and a little floral, it made for a lovely aperitif.

I hope to return one day. When I do, I will walk the hills seeking out a nice place in the sun to sit, have a drink, and feel very European while I’m doing it. 

Irish Soda Bread

About 25 years ago, I had a conversation about soda bread that changed my mind about it forever. Growing up, I thought soda bread was the closest thing to a doorstop and had no idea why anyone would eat it. When I mentioned this to the mother of my boyfriend at the time, she gave me her recipe. Hand-scratched on an index card, I have kept it ever since and have made it repeatedly.

Yes, it’s true. Many recipes make a dry result and Ireland is not the only country that makes one. Scotland, Australia, and even Poland and Serbia have their own versions. It’s a quick bread using baking soda as a leavening agent instead of yeast. Yeast needs time and a proper climate; this does not. No need for over-mixing or kneading the dough. Throw it together and pop it in the oven. Done!

The bread often calls for dried fruits, nuts, and other ingredients. Some add buttermilk while others add melted butter or yogurt. In this recipe, the secret ingredient to making more of a cake-like product than a brittle brick is sour cream. The taste is soft and supple. If you like, you can even swap out the all purpose flour for cake flour. The end result is far richer than what you typically find at the supermarket.

You can toast it, serve it for breakfast, or even a dessert. Either way, this is a bread you can’t help but snack on little by little until it’s all gone.

Here’s the recipe:

2 c. all purpose flour

2/3 c. sugar

1 TB baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

2 tsp caraway seeds

2 c. sour cream

2 eggs, lightly beaten

4 TB butter, melted

½ c. golden raisins

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Sift flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Stir in seeds. Combine egg, sour cream, and butter in separate bowl. Add flour mixture to the sour cream mixture. Add raisins. Place in a greased 8” round pan. Bake for 50-60 minutes, although check at 45 minutes. You don’t want to over-bake.

Yields 1 loaf.

Belgian Waffles

After a trip to Brussels about four years ago, waffles will never be the same. Once you’ve had a Belgian waffle—and I mean a true Belgian waffle—you will never look back. Anything else is just a bland imposter. These puffy little beauties not only have the yeast to thank but the barge load of sugar in them. Honey and pearl sugar are the secret ingredients. (I add the pearl sugar to this recipe as a true Belgian addition. You can delete it if you like and just add 2 teaspoons of granulated white sugar.)

Belgian waffles were originally introduced to the U.S. at an exposition in Seattle in 1962 and again in 1964 at the New York World’s Fair. Although, there are some accounts that discuss waffles coming to this country with Dutch settlers in the 1600s and even Thomas Jefferson had a hand in their introduction by bringing home a French waffle iron in the 1700s. Early German and Dutch waffle irons were made as far back as the thirteenth century and designed to be held over a hearth fire. 

Waffles are often served as a breakfast food or a dessert with confectioner’s sugar, chocolate spread, fruit compote, or just plain butter and maple syrup. The waffles you can buy on any street corner in Belgium are utterly delectable and sticky-sweet all by themselves. Condiments are completely unnecessary.

The only downside is that they should be made a day ahead, which for most people is not an option for a busy weekday morning. So they tend to be the kind of thing you make on lazy weekend mornings or for special occasions. But they are most definitely worth the effort. For a quick version, the yeast is often swapped out for baking soda. But this recipe calls for both. I used Ina Garten’s Overnight Belgian Waffle recipe and it rocks!

2 c. lukewarm milk (90-100 degrees F)

1 stick unsalted butter, melted

2 TB honey

1 TB pearl sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 ¼ tsp kosher salt

2 c. flour

2 extra large eggs

¼ tsp baking soda

½ c. warm water (110-115 degrees F)

1 pkg active dry yeast

The night before, combine the water, yeast, and sugar in a large bowl as the batter will expand. Allow it to stand for about 5 minutes until frothy. Stir in the milk, butter, honey, vanilla and salt. Add the flour and whisk until smooth. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and allow it to sit overnight at a cool room temperature. The next morning, beat the eggs with the baking soda and add it to the mixture before baking on a waffle iron. Be sure to coat your iron with cooking spray so your waffles don’t stick. Serve and enjoy! 

Mayonnaise

When most people think of mayonnaise, a jar of Hellman’s is sure to pop up. It’s easy to just grab one and stick it in your shopping cart. The concept of making it yourself seems tedious and unnecessary. But in actuality, it’s just as easy as making any other sauce or dressing.

The key—according to Ina Garten, Alton Brown, Julia Child, or any other great chef—is having ingredients that are room temperature. That is especially true for the eggs. Americans keep their eggs in the refrigerator while Europeans happily keep their eggs on the countertop. Even European supermarkets have them in the dry goods section and not refrigerated. That may be because they use them more often in recipes or they just like the fuller taste of the egg when it’s not cold.

To be fair, if you’re going to use your eggs frequently, it’s probably just fine to leave them out. But if you don’t use them all the time for breakfast, lunch and dinner, then keeping them in the fridge is probably the best spot.

But when it comes to mayonnaise, Americans view it as a condiment right up there with mustard and ketchup. Sure, it can be. But the French, in particular, view it as an elegant sauce. The flavor is bright with the acidic touch of lemon and the texture is silky smooth.

“Mayonnaise like hollandaise is a process of forcing egg yolks to absorb a fatty substance, oil in this case,” Julia Child is quoted as saying, “and to hold it in thick and creamy suspension.”

It is an emulsion in which the oil you use becomes the predominant flavor, so be careful to choose something neutral. Unless of course, you want a different kind of flavor. In that case, you may want to balance three parts of a nutty or fruity oil with one part neutral.

And that’s the thing about mayonnaise: it’s a base for so many other flavors. Add garlic, it’s aioli. Add basil and Parmesan, it’s a crudité dip. Add Dijon, capers, and cornichons, it’s a rémoulade. Add tomato and roasted red pepper, it’s a Sauce Andalouse. Curry. Saffron. Horseradish! The possibilities are endless.

Of all the recipes you can sift through—like Mastering the Art of French Cooking, which devotes an entire section to “The Mayonnaise Family”—the following recipe is probably the one I like the best. (Thank you, Martha Stewart.)

Here you go:

2 large egg yolks

1 tsp. Dijon mustard

4 tsp. lemon juice

1 c. vegetable oil

salt and pepper to taste

You can whisk, blend, or place in a food processor. Pulse yolks, mustard, and lemon juice until thoroughly combined. Add oil slowly in steady stream. (If using a processor or blender, keep it running as you add the oil. If whisking, keep it going until the color turns a soft yellow and the consistency nicely thickens.) Season with salt and pepper. Can be refrigerated and kept for up to one week.

(Note: I felt the recipe was a touch thick. If you’d like to thin it out, you can add a little more lemon juice or white wine vinegar.)