I’ve fallen in love with crème caramel |
If you’ve stuck out my cookery writing for long enough, you’ll know that I am a bit of a Labrador when it comes to different dishes: greedy, ready to try anything, and likely to enjoy it. Food is where my general cynicism and air of ennui gives way to unbridled enthusiasm. There are very few dishes that, when done well, I won’t chalk up in the ‘good’ column.
For a long time, crème caramel was the exception to that rule. To be fair, my experience of it had been limited: childhood self-catering holidays in northern France meant that my introduction to the crème caramel did not show it at its best. Dished out from the under-counter fridge came supermarket versions of what Raymond Blanc has called ‘the French National Dessert’: yoghurt pots filled with bland, bouncy custard infused only with the flavour of the plastic casing. Out they would come with a loud slurp, followed by a dribbling, tawny-coloured, thin liquid. I didn’t know what these French people were on, but they seemed to be undiscerning about their puddings.
I didn’t know what these French people were on, but they seemed to be undiscerning about their puddings
I didn’t know what these French people were on, but they seemed to be undiscerning about their puddings
Judging the pudding on its shop-bought, plastic-encased version was perhaps unfair, but the punishment was just: I spent the next 15 years convinced I didn’t like........