Or, as it’s more popularly known, crème caramel, or flan in Spain. I am unreasonably picky about this ubiquitous dessert. Absolutely no bubbles allowed: it should be a perfectly smooth, only just set custard that wobbles when you turn it out. I’ve lost count of the number of times I have been disappointed in restaurants. Always, always bubbly round the edges, or worse. Yet it takes no more time, only attention, to achieve a perfect one. This Simon Hopkinson recipe is the acme of baked egg custard. It simply can’t be improved on. I hadn’t made it for ages, but today we had a surfeit of eggs. I’m so pleased I did. It turned out perfectly. My only regret: I halved the recipe to serve two, so there’s none left.
Note: I know, the photo is aesthetically lacking, but I wanted to show the texture. Even then, the photo can’t convey the velvety smoothness. Never mind!
It’s most impressive when made as a single large custard in a soufflé dish, very carefully turned out onto a large plate. But you can of course make smaller individual ones in ramekins. This recipe makes four or six servings, depending on how greedy you are. Allow plenty of time for it to cool. You can chill it, but it’s best to take it out of the fridge half an hour before you want to serve it. If the recipe looks long, it’s not because it’s complicated — it’s because you need attention to detail.
zest of 4 untreated oranges, finely grated
500 ml full cream milk (if you only have semi-skimmed, use about 400 ml plus 100 ml of single cream)
90 g caster sugar
2 whole eggs
4 egg yolks
110 g small sugar cubes (or caster sugar, see below)
Put the orange zest, milk, and 90 g sugar in a pan and bring just to the boil. Turn off the heat, cover with a lid and leave to infuse for 2 hours. Meanwhile you can make the caramel. I find the most foolproof way is to use sugar cubes. Put them in a small dry pan over a low to medium heat, and as they start to dissolve, bash them with a wooden spoon to break them up. By the time they’ve all dissolved, you will pretty much have your caramel; if it’s not dark enough for you, turn the heat up and stir, watching like a hawk. When it’s mahogany coloured, remove from the heat and add a splash of warm water to stop cooking. It will splatter, so be careful and give it a brisk stir so that it doesn’t set solid (if it does, put it back on a gentle heat to melt it). You can make the caramel with caster sugar and a couple of tablespoons of water instead, but you have all the faff of trying to stop it from crystallising — see almost any episode of the Great British Bake Off.
Immediately pour the caramel to completely coat the bottom of your mould(s). If doing a single large one, you need a souffle dish of about 900 ml capacity. Set aside.
Once the milk has infused, preheat the oven to 150C. Put the eggs and egg yolks in a bowl and whisk briefly, before pouring on the infused milk. Whisk to combine, but not so much that it is frothy (no bubbles, remember!). Now strain through a fine sieve, pressing the orange zest well to extract all the flavour. Pour the strained mixture onto the set caramel. Put the mould(s) into a roasting tin and pour in enough boiling water to come halfway up them. Cook in the oven for 1-1 1/2 hours for a large mould, 40-50 minutes for individual ones. Check well before the official end of cooking time — much depends on your oven, and you need to take it out when there’s still a wobble in the middle. If it’s not ready, keep checking every ten minutes.
When you judge it’s nearly done, remove the roasting tin from the oven and leave it to stand for half an hour so it continues to cook, before removing the mould(s) from the tin. Then chill in the fridge — Simon says for 6 hours, but I think that’s excessive. It’s better not too chilled. To serve, run a thin knife gently round the edge, place a plate on top, and gently flip it over before carefully lifting the mould off. Note to restaurateurs: you don’t need to squirt cream from a can around it, it’s perfect as it is.