You've heard the expressions "piece of cake" or "easy as pie"? Forget them. Flan is easier. I don't know how the International Flanmakers' Union has managed to keep it a secret for this long, but the word is OUT, people!
I needed to make something for dinner. I chose chicken
adobo, because "adobo" is fun to say. Then, as I procrastinated the walk to the grocery, I figured I should make a dessert, too, and chose flan. I thought it would fit well with the theme. (Yes, I know that flan is Spanish/ Hispanic, and even though adobo is Spanish, I linked to a Filipino adobo recipe, and Filipino adobo
isn't even true adobo, but I would like to argue that with two points. First, maybe the theme was "things I don't know how to do yet." Second, I just made you say "adobo" a whole lot, if you were reading out loud. I was right, wasn't I? It IS fun to say!) I found two good contenders.
This one, and
the one I used. Why the second one?
- I don't actually have ramekins, and I didn't have enough of the things I was going to use instead.
- I've never made flan before. I've never carmelized sugar before. The second recipe uses one big dish instead of six little ones, so I don't have to work quite as quickly, which is nice if you're unfamiliar with the process, would like to avoid third-degree sugar burns, and have a tendency to take lots of pictures while you cook (you're welcome, food-porn enthusiasts).
I know I said it was super easy, but there was one part that intimidated me (a little) and one part that was really difficult. The intimidating part was melting the sugar. I'd never done it before, and the very first review on the recipe mentioned how difficult it was to clean the sugar off of everything when they finished making it. That caveat, coupled with my low confidence, made me pretty sure I was going to ruin the saucepan, so I used one of the Chief Taster's. Don't tell her. It was the only one she believes capable of boiling eggs.
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I don't know whether you're supposed to stir sugar as it melts, but I did. I was also preparing the custard portion at the same time, so I wasn't stirring constantly, and think that maybe I should have been. You can see clumps here because it isn't melting evenly. |
Luckily, I didn't ruin the pan, and it cleaned very easily (as soon as I poured the caramel glaze into the pie pan, I put some hot water in the pot. That probably helped.). It still takes a little time for the sugar to melt. Don't sweat it. Keep the heat low, and be patient. Even the lumps you see in the picture above thinned out eventually.
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one cup of sugar, melted. Makes me wish I had some ice cream. |
As the sugar becomes more liquid than solid, give it more of your attention. Do not let it burn, and keep stirring it to get a nice, even consistency. Then pour it in the baking dish, and tip the dish around to coat the sides a little. I didn't have a 9" baking dish, so I used a 9.5" pie pan. Close enough.
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The sugar cools and solidifies quickly, so it's hard to get a coat of even thickness or uniform height on the sides of the dish. Call this "artistic license," and people will let you get away with it. If they don't, then don't let them have any of your delicious flan. |
I finished beating the filling ingredients together while the caramel glaze cooled a little in the dish. That's fine. The worrisome part is when you pour the filling into the dish and hear tiny crackling noises like fractures in glass. More on that later.
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Filled flan. Cover it with foil, bake at 350F for an hour. |
I had stirred the sugar with a normal metal tablespoon. When I finished scraping the caramel into the dish, I looked at the spoon and thought, "mmmm, tasty," but instead of licking it, I set it aside and finished assembling the flan. This provided two excellent benefits: I did not
burn the ever-loving shit out of my mouth, and I got to witness something cool and science-y. Remember before that last picture, when I mentioned the glass-breaking noises I heard when I added the filling? It wasn't the glass*. It was the sugar! When I stuck the flan in the oven, I could still hear tiny cracking noises, like someone carefully stepping on tiny Christmas lights. Then I saw the spoon I had used earlier, sitting on the counter with a thin glaze of sugar on it. And I actually saw cracks form with those noises. I was pretty excited about it, but I wasn't able to find a good, concise article explaining why it happened, so there's no link here, even though I wanted one.
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Yes, after it had cooled sufficiently, I did chew on the spoon for awhile. I am not as ashamed of this as I probably should be. |
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Right out of the oven. You can't tell, but some of the sugar was still bubbling a little at the edges. |
I let the flan cool for a while before trying to remove it from the pan (it even spent some time in the fridge). That's normal, but I wonder if I should have flipped it over a littler sooner, while it was still a little warm. Tough call, since I don't know what I'm doing.
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Thoroughly cooled, not as tectonically active. |
I ran a knife around the edges of the pie pan to loosen things a bit (I was worried about the sugar gluing the whole damn mess inside), and turned the whole dish upside down over one of our biggest plates. And waited. A while. I got worried, and a little annoyed, and went to go watch Futurama or something, and checked on it later to discover that it had mostly fallen clear.
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works for me. |
For a first effort, I was thrilled with that. I scraped up what was still inside the pan and ate it straight, and cut a chunk of the flan out to have an actual serving. Although the sugar glaze was crackling-hard when it went into the oven, it came out as a soft, syrupy caramel layer (it dripped off the pan and onto the counter--be aware). The flan itself was rich in flavor, light in texture, and pretty damn good as far as I'm concerned. Plus, I discovered that when I had it for breakfast, my morning run went
really well. Considering I had flan for breakfast, it's probably good that I went for a run an hour later.
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