Well we worked hard in 2012 and rewarded ourselves with a good party New Year's eve. We gathered at G's, flashing 2013 glasses and hats and noisemakers - the whole nine yards. R rewarded all our work with a big bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label - which we polished off very happily. It was an event planned to the last detail. G's mom made a big steaming pot of that Latin classic, Sancocho and I was charged with dessert.
"Make flan," A said.
"Yeah riiiight," quipped I. "I'm going to make flan for the Puerto Ricans. That's suicide!!"
So I texted G.
What do you want for dessert?
Flan.
You're as crazy as A! You're gonna rip me apart!
And make it properly. With condensed milk and everything.
Fine. You're on.
And on she was. I laughed in the face of danger (her AND her mother) and went for it. A, bless his heart, helped.
Our first crack at caramelizing the sugar was a bust. The recipe I found called for regular white sugar. Well, that liquified, then solidified and turned back into sugar again. And stayed bright white. BUST.
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| yay, success! |
"Try brown sugar" he said, citing a Filipino recipe. So after wiping up the mess, we tried again - with the brown. We'd figured out the ideal temperature to simmer it at by this time, and it worked beautifully.
I mixed up some condensed milk, eggs, vanilla and a few other secret things, and poured it into a pie plate, on top of the waiting caramelized sugar. Just to make sure i didn't create some awful tasting disaster, I made extra in a few custard cups. Into a pan of water and into the oven the entire thing went - with a small prayer to the kitchen goddess that my oven would actually burn at the temperature it was supposed to.
40 minutes later - out it came, looking fabulous. And it tasted pretty good too. I sent a picture to G.
OMG. OMG. OMG you dared and it looks AMAZING. I am glad M is not coming. I am going to eat her piece.
Of course I decided I needed to bring it on a fancy platter - which was too big and caused the thing to slide all over the place. But A, balancing it on his knees the whole ride over, took it all in his regular, relaxed stride. Me on the other hand, had tasted so much sugary gooey-ness in the making of this masterpiece that I had a fashion/body meltdown and went on a closet rampage minutes before we had to leave. I'm very thankful nobody trussed me up and threw me INTO the closet. Boy was I ugly there for a moment.
Anyway, I found an outfit, fixed my hair, breathed in and out a few times. We all got into the car and headed over to G's.
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| yup, she ate it all. with a big-a** spoon |
She dove into it the minute we stepped inside. Her mom too. Great - I didn't even get to have a first drink to settle my nerves.
"OMG, that's so good," was G's verdict.
It was her mom's opinion I was afraid of though. I barely dared look her in the eye as she went in for a taste. She took her time. She swirled it around, then swallowed, then opened her mouth to speak. I was a nervous wreck (thank goodness for the nice big glass of Blue Label right now).
"It's good!" Phew. "A little too much.."
oh crap, what!? What!? "vanilla. But otherwise very good."
Quick as a flash, A came to my rescue.
"It's Filipino leche flan, that's why there's vanilla." Dude, I can't wait to marry this man. I fair fell on the floor with relief and gratitude.
"Ah, Filipino flan..." mom muttered. And that was that, vanilla explained. (For the record, I didn't think there WAS all that heady a vanilla-ing, but what do I know, I've never made this stuff before nor do I eat it on a regular basis. In fact, I think I've had it twice in my still young life.)
Tastes completed, we danced, ate the sancocho, digested a few seconds and dished up proper servings of flan. And then waited for the glittery ball to drop and announce 2013. Toot toot!
