The Wondrous Voyage of Flan

Really, you are too kind. First you put up with my whining about writer's block and making you cook albóndigas soup. Then, I tried to ruin your figure by tempting you into wolfing down scrumptious little lumps of lard and flour called bizcochitos. And now this:

Flan clásico. How will you ever forgive me?

Its sweet creaminess, the luscious combination of eggs, milk and caramelized sugar create the perfect ending and counterpoint to the spiciness of a perfect Mexican meal. Take your spoon and feel its cool silkiness glide across your tongue. Now wasn't that maravilloso?

I have tasted a lot of flans, but I must say that no flan recipe calling for canned evaporated and condensed milk can compare with a flan prepared with the best ingredients you can find like fresh eggs, organic whole milk and pure cane sugar. The result is richer and more satisfying, and most certainly does not taste store-bought, the kiss of death as far as my taste buds are concerned. It is real. This flan, mi chiquita, is the one. If you don't want to take the time and trouble of cooking it from scratch, then don't start now—because I am warning you, a flan made with canned anything will never do after you try this.

A few years ago on a trip to la Madre patria, I must have eaten flan in Barcelona, in Valencia, in Madrid, and in a village on the Cantabrian Sea which bears the name of my husband's family (visiting that lovely place was the happy realization one of his childhood dreams). And with almost every bite, I thought of all the women who over the centuries emigrated to the New World alone or with their husbands or parents and brought this recipe with them.

When their ships pulled out of port to sail across the deep waters of the Atlantic and onward to the Port of Veracruz, when they watched Spain disappear over the horizon, how many tears did they shed because they knew that they would probably never return or ever again see the loved ones they left behind? Or, did they rejoice to be free from some of the constraints of the traditions of the Old World? Did they dream of gold and silver, of land and cattle and great haciendas? Or did their dreams turn to polvo—dust, only to be blown away by a cold Zacatacas wind? Did they love this strange new land with its chilies, corn tortillas and cactus? Or, were they as bewildered and as lonely living in the New World as our some of our mothers were when they first came to America?

What else did they put in their flan besides eggs and milk and sugar, but all the feelings to which fragile humans are prone, like heartbreak and hope, recuerdos and regret sometimes but also love?

These mujeres valientes—mighty women settled in The New World and shared their recipes with their own Mexican daughters, who in turn helped create a mingling of the cocinas of Spain and of The New World—Mexican cuisine as we know it today. They in turn shared what they knew with their daughters, and so on through the generations, until eventually some came to America, who shared what they knew with us, their daughters and grand daughters. And here I am today, sharing this flan recipe with you.

I hope that this flan will speak to me, that this old but very special recipe will reveal the secret to the courage and strength of all those women who dared to create a new life in a land half a world away, and who together with their indigenous sisters created a wondrous cuisine that never fails to to captivate mi corazon.

Flan Clásico

Adapted from Mexico the Beautiful cookbook, which is a classic in itself.

What you need:

2 saucepans

Measuring cups and spoons

Bundt cake mold or round cake pan

Large baking pan

Melt-proof spatula to spread caramelized sugar

Egg beater or whisk

Strainer (if needed)

A thin knife

Ingredients:

1 ¼ cup cane sugar

4 cups whole milk

1 tablespoon vanilla extract—less if you are stingy

pinch of salt

4 eggs

3 egg yolks

1 tablespoon cornstarch

1 tablespoon cold water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Place ¾ cup of sugar in a saucepan over medium heat and keep swirling until the sugar melts and turns a golden brown (CAUTION: The sugar is HOT!) Pour the caramelized sugar into mold or baking dish and make sure to cover the bottom and all sides. Do this quickly as the sugar cools fast. Set aside. (Note: if the caramelized sugar is difficult to spread because it has cooled down too quickly, do this: If your mold or pan is glass or ceramic, place in the microwave for about 15 seconds or so to melt it a bit. If using metal, partially submerge it in boiling water for a little while. Be careful, it is still very hot! Better yet, preheat the mold or cake pan in the oven for a few minutes prior to putting in caramelized sugar. It will swirl much easier that way.)
In a separate saucepan, combine milk, the rest of the sugar, vanilla and salt. Bring to a boil and lower heat to a simmer uncovered until it is reduced by half, up to 15 minutes but no less than 10. Set aside.
Beat eggs and egg yolks in a large bowl. Separately, mix together cornstarch and 1 tablespoon cold water and pour into egg mixture. Gradually pour in sweetened milk. Mix well. Strain out bits of "cooked egg" from mixture, if any. Pour into mold or baking pan.
Cover mold or baking pan with foil. Set it in a larger pan and pour boiling water into the larger pan up to 1 inch. Carefully place in the preheated oven and let it bake for 40 to 50 minutes; OR, until a knife inserted in the center of the flan comes out clean. Make sure you check doneness a little earlier if you are baking the flan in smaller bowls or individual-sized molds.
Remove from the oven and let the flan cool for about 30 to 40 minutes. Refrigerate for at least 2 or 3 hours, but overnight is best.
To remove flan, run a thin knife around the top edge. Then partially submerge pan or mold in hot tap water for a few seconds to loosen. Invert the mold or pan on a platter and serve cold.
If you find that the caramelized sugar is hard and is sticking to the bottom of the pan, just place it quickly over hot water to soften it.

Wicked Little Bizcochitos

There are some things that scare me to death:

Unexpected late night telephone calls. California wild fires. El chupacabras hiding beneath my bed. And painfully thin celebrity It-Girls--now that is scary.

Am I afraid of these bizcochitos, these delicately delicious Mexican cookies? Nunca.

However, it is only fair to warn you that this cookie is nothing more than lard or butter, white flour, anise seeds, sugar and toasted pine nuts. If you eat one, it might lodge indefinitely on your belly, your nalguitas—your rear-end, your hips, and other unmentionable places. I should also warn you that you will not care. You will simply adore the delicate crunch, the sweet, licorice-like taste of the anise seeds, the way this cookie melts in your mouth. To munch on this little sublime piece of manteca—lard will fill your taste buds with alegria, no matter the fatty consequences.

And that's perfectly okay.

Because really, what is so beautiful about cracked nails, dry, flaky skin and dull, lifeless hair? The disappearance of that rosy glow of healthy radiance, leaving a sadly gaunt, if not emaciated face? Or, shivering like a Beverly Hills Chihuahua when a cold wind blows and you feel it rattling your skinny bones? Well, that scrumptious bit o' fat not only makes food taste delicious, but can help you look more beautiful, rounding out curves and putting some life into your skin, hair and nails. María Félix looked like a girl who enjoyed a cookie or a tamale or two and maybe even three, and look at how lovely she was (click here). As my little papá says, get the pointy?

So eat a few of these wicked little bizcochitos guilt and fear-free—not the whole batch, of course—and share the joy with friends, family and even that wannabe celebrity It-Girl friend of yours—the poor girl, she needs this cookie. There are many things to be afraid of or to feel guilty about, such as ___________(well, I'll let you fill in the blank)—but eating this cookie should not be one of them.

Now, don't you feel better?

Wicked Little Bizcochitos

I adapted this recipe from a recipe I found in The Los Angeles Times food section many years ago. Its cooks and writers never fail to publish some wonderful and authentic Mexican recipes. Gracias to my favorite newspaper.

1 cup butter or lard, softened; or, a combination of both.

¾ cup cane sugar

2 egg yolks

2 cups flour, plus a little more for dusting the board

2 teaspoons anise seeds

1/8 teaspoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon salt

¼ to ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup toasted pine nuts. You can substitute chopped toasted pecans.

Powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
In a mixing bowl, beat the lard and/or butter. Then add sugar and beat until airy.
Add egg yolks and the anise seeds. Beat well, gradually adding flour, baking powder, and salt. Then add the toasted pine nuts and blend into the dough.
Wrap cookie dough in plastic wrapping and chill for at least an hour.
Flour a board and a rolling pin. Then roll out the flour until it is about ¼ inch thick. You can cut them into little squares or use a cookie cutter if you like.
OR: roll up the cookies into little balls about ¾ inch or less in diameter.
Place them in an ungreased cookie sheet and bake until they are golden (not golden brown). (Note: Length of baking time depends on your oven and the thickness of the cookies.) Remove cookies from the oven. You can let them cool for 10 minutes or so. I like to carefully remove the cookies using a very flat stainless steel spatula and place the cookies on a brown paper bag. It removes excess fat and makes for a very flaky cookie. If you like, dredge the cookies in powdered sugar as I did here.
Enjoy with coffee or tea or after a family fiesta.
Now go run a mile.