Name: Tremendous Crème Caramel
Prep time: 20 min
Cook time: 50 min
Total time: 70 min
Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients: 3/4 cup granulated sugar (for caramel); 3 tbsp water; 1 1/2 cups heavy cream; 1 cup whole milk; 1, split and scraped vanilla bean; 1/2 cup granulated sugar (for custard); 3 large eggs; 3 large egg yolks; pinch kosher salt

Tremendous Crème Caramel

Prep

20m

Cook

50m

Total

70m

Bigly says

Pay attention. Crème caramel. The TREMENDOUS one. The French one. And before anyone writes in — and people do write in, big long letters, some typed, some handwritten, all very respectful — yes, I know, crème caramel and flan are cousins. They're related. They're family. They go to the same custard reunions. But crème caramel is the more refined one. Crème caramel went to finishing school. Crème caramel uses cream, not three cans of milk in a trench coat. Big difference. HUGE difference.

I had a version of this in a tiny inn in the Andes once — true story, way up where the air gets thin and the chickens look at you funny — and the woman who made it had no recipe, no scale, no thermometer. Just hands. Just instinct. She handed me a wobbling ramekin, she nodded once, and I sat on a wooden stool and forgot what year it was. The greatest crème caramel I've ever had, the absolute best, is the one I'm about to give you, which is the one I reverse-engineered on the plane home. Took me three weeks. Worth it. People come up to me in the produce aisle, they say 'Bigly, the crème caramel.' Just like that. 'The crème caramel.' That's the whole sentence. The crème caramel took the rest of the words.

The key is heavy cream, infused vanilla, and a low, low oven. Slow custard. Patient custard. Custard that knows itself. You rush it, you get bubbles. Bubbles are the enemy. Bubbles are sad. Smooth is the goal. Smooth is the WHOLE GAME. Most home cooks crank the oven to 350 like they're roasting a chicken, and what they get is a sponge. A sweet sponge. Wet sadness on a plate. We're not doing that. We're doing 300 degrees and a water bath, like civilized people. Food chemists agree, and I've talked to food chemists, very smart people. That's the bottom line.

Ingredients

3/4 cupgranulated sugar (for caramel)
3 tbspwater
1 1/2 cupsheavy cream(the good stuff, this is not the place to economize)
1 cupwhole milk
1, split and scrapedvanilla bean(or 2 tsp vanilla bean paste if pods are a heist this week)
1/2 cupgranulated sugar (for custard)
3large eggs
3large egg yolks
pinchkosher salt

Steps

1
Preheat the oven to 300°F. Arrange six 6-oz ramekins in a deep roasting pan. Boil a kettle of water.
2
Make the caramel: combine the 3/4 cup sugar and water in a heavy saucepan over medium heat. Swirl occasionally, do not stir, until the sugar dissolves and turns deep amber, 7-9 minutes.
3
Immediately divide the caramel among the ramekins, tilting each to coat the bottom. Set aside; the caramel will harden.
4
In a saucepan, combine the cream, milk, and the scraped vanilla bean (pod and seeds). Heat over medium-low until it just begins to steam, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and let infuse 10 minutes. Discard the pod.
5
Whisk the eggs, yolks, the 1/2 cup sugar, and salt in a large bowl until smooth — gently, no foam.
6
Gradually pour the warm cream mixture into the eggs while whisking, then strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a clean pitcher.
7
Divide the custard evenly among the ramekins. Pour boiling water into the roasting pan until it reaches halfway up the sides of the ramekins.
8
Bake 40-50 minutes, until the custards are set at the edges but still wobble slightly at the center.
9
Carefully lift the ramekins out of the water bath and cool to room temperature. Cover and refrigerate at least 4 hours, ideally overnight.
10
To serve, run a thin knife around the edge of each ramekin, invert onto a small plate, and lift away. The caramel sauce will flood the plate.

One more thing

And that is crème caramel. Six ramekins of pure French elegance, sitting in puddles of dark amber glass, jiggling like they know something we don't. Maybe they do. Maybe custard knows things. I don't rule it out. Serve it after a heavy dinner — the kind of dinner where everyone says 'oh I couldn't possibly' — and then watch every single one of them eat the whole thing. Every one. It happens every time. Custard doesn't lie. Custard never lies. It's a beautiful thing.