I like having JG read aloud to me. this happened a lot with the "you-me present" I gave him (the present you buy for someone because you want it yourself. if it's a book, it works great: they're really chuffed, and then later you get to read it). the book was Hugh Fearlessly Eats It All, by Hugh Fearnley-Witthingstall, one of JG's culinary heroes. the reading aloud was partly prompted by the hilarity of the writing: it's very unfair to sit there and chortle away without sharing the jokes, although some were lost in relay. one night, while deeply engrossed in the denser events of the Sicilian mafia trials, I was interrupted with "Hugh makes bouillabaisse".
yes?
"that's all".
okay. apparently the funny part was too long.
one memorable piece, which started a mini-fad in our house, concerned Hugh's ultimate last meal, crème brûlée. if Hugh had to name his desired final mouthful, it would be that bastard-pedigree English custard with a French name. if you're thinking "but there's no chocolate in crème brûlée", I'm right with you, but each to their own last meal. JG, however, was really taken with the sumptuous description of velvety custard and crunchy caramel.
people love to argue about the origin of "burn't cream", as it might have described in the earliest English translation. it pops up mostly in British texts, and, rather tellingly, isn't mentioned at all in my edition of Larousse. a Wiki entry credits the first written record to François Massialot, a seventeenth century Parisian chef, and author of Nouveau cuisinier royal et bourgeois (1691), translated into English in 1702 under the title The Court and Country Cook. François might've pilfered the idea from a Spaniard, German, Czech, or anyone with a penchant for baking custard under a sugar crust, but the English stamped their own mark on it (literally) when it became famous at Cambridge's Trinity, where the college coat of arms was branded into the sugar layer. this sounds far stranger than your usual dessert-decorating, like some kind of dangerous nationalism on a micro-level.
crème brûlée is a sort of upside down crème caramel; the latter has the caramelised sugar on the bottom, and is inverted to present a saucy crown on the custard, but crème brûlée can't be turned out of its baking dish, so the sugar crust is formed on the top. the addition of egg white allows custards to be unmoulded, but crème brûlée is made with yolks only. hypothetically the first crème brûlée might've been the result of a crème caramel stuff up. why not the other way round? well, like I said, it's not in Larousse, and I choose to take that as a historical clue, rather than a slight against the English and their cooking habits (but they're a veritable goldmine of culinary jokes, aren't they?). the Larousse definitions of crèmes D'entremets et de pâtisserie (creams and custards) only allow for milky concoctions, noting that cream can be added after the custard has been formed to enrich the finish. anything that doesn't conform is banished to that linguistic category of anglo-abomination, crème Anglaise. (the Italians do this too: English style custard is called zuppa Inglese, relvoltingly translated as 'English soup'. for me it conjours up the image of an Englishman taking a bath while supping on cold toast and a cup of tea and simmering in his own week-old filth. but then I'm not a bath person.)
Hugh's requirements for crème brûlée render it totally English. no milk, no egg whites, just four ingredients: vanilla bean, egg yolks, caster sugar and double cream. and he means caster sugar, don't be tempted otherwise: demerara might look fancy but it tastes wrong.
and, yes, double cream. but sadly, I've tamed my hedonism these days and can't justify the pleasures of 60% fat (in fact I rarely even use the "regular" 38% fat cream, opting for 18% "light" cream, but not the brand new and rather scary "extra light" cream, with about the same kilojoules as plain yoghurt. it tastes like thick milk. in fact, it IS thick milk.)
so a custard is a custard is a custard, in some senses, and crème brûlée should work with any combination of milk and cream, but of course fat tastes better. Hugh Fearlessly Eats It All is a collection of the author's columns; thoughts and anecdote rather than recipes, so JG followed me into the kitchen, book in hand, saying "egg yolks, caster sugar, double cream and a vanilla bean. but how much?" we just made it up, but here's a tip from Larousse: custard can contain up to eighteen egg yolks per litre of milk (at which point presumably one should not be thinking about using cream; it's already so rich.)
and then there's the problem of method, about which Hugh goes into great detail. starting the custard on the hob, then baking the individual serves in ramekins set in a water bath is the safe method, but he says the most sublime result comes from continuing the mixture on the hob. just know your heat, and push your luck a little, and hopefully you'll cook the custard to perfection, which you then pour into ramekins and set in the refrigerator.
which brings us to the caramel end of the business. the sugar should be spread evenly on the top of each custard to a thickness of about 2mm. ideally it's caramelised with a blowtorch, and in The Cook's Companion, Stephanie Alexander says buy your blowtorch from a hardware store, not a kitchenware store: they're cheaper (and presumably bigger and more fun). but it can work under a griller. it should be glassy but not too dark, and definitely no scorched blisters. as for serving, Hugh says cool custard, warm, crunchy top. I say warm, gooshy custard and hot, crunchy top.
to make 4, the safe way:
preheat oven to 150°c and boil the kettle.
3 egg yolks
200ml milk
200ml cream (or omit the milk and use all cream)
1 heaped tablespoon of caster sugar, plus extra for crust
vanilla bean or essence (I hold no snobbish grudges against vanilla in a bottle, as long as it once touched a vanilla bean and wasn't brewed from tar or possum dung- I quite like the slightly alcoholic taste it imparts. Hugh would be mortified...)
whisk the egg yolks and sugar in a bowl.
heat milk, cream and vanilla until it's quite hot but not boiling, then add to the egg yolks and whisk properly so there are no lumps.
sit four ramekins in a larger baking dish. fill each one with custard and then fill the outer dish with the boiled water (sometimes it's easier to add the water once the dish is in the oven).
bake for about 12 minutes, or until custard is set but a bit wobbly.
cool before attempting the sugar crust:
scatter a layer of sugar about 2mm thick on the surface of each custard.
if you don't have a blow torch, it should work under a grill.
get the grill scorching hot, so the top cooks fast without melting the custard (this is the usefulness of the blowtorch).
sit the ramekins on a tray so you don't have to touch them once they're burning hot.
grill the sugar quickly, until it's melted into a glassy layer and browned slightly. a spoon should be able crack through layer and this should not involve any charcoal. this caramel stage of sugar happens at around 140°c (and charcoal happens at around 190°c) so cool them for about half an hour before eating.
