Cup Custards
2 Comments
Egg yolks are small miracles: so perky, so bright, such a tight pack of nutrition.
And so very fragile. Chickens raised in industrial farms, the birds that don't have room to turn around, the ones whose beaks are snipped to keep them from destroying each other in their nervous frenzy--those chickens produce icky eggs. In fact, their yolks are not yellow. They're mostly gray. Because the chickens don't eat their usual nutrient rich diet of seeds, grubs, and insects.
Never had a gray yolk? That's because the chickens are also fed dye to make their yolks yellow.
Hardly real food, I'd say. Mostly fake.
Which is too bad. Because inferior, gray, tasteless yolks deprive us all of the best cup custards. Which are one of life's better treasures (and easier desserts).
To start, find good eggs. A local farmers' market, a local co-op. Ours come from here. Better eggs mean better desserts. That's a no-brainer.
OK, position the rack in the center of the oven and preheat the oven to 350F. Set four 1-cup heat-safe baking cups or ramekins in a baking pan--or six 3/4-cup ones. You can see Bruce uses the old-fashioned kind, the same Pyrex ones my mother and grandmother used. The baking pan should be just large enough to hold them comfortably. Also bring a tea kettle of water to a boil over high heat.
Technically, you're setting up a bain-marie: a water bath that will provide a coddling, comfortable environment for the egg proteins which tend to react poorly to the oven's intense, ambient heat.
I actually find the whole name thing more interesting. Bain-marie. Mary's bath. Was she known for her baths? Not that I know of. Actually, it's a mistranslation, if you can believe it, from Greek. The original term was kaminos Marias, Mary's furnace. It was a term of alchemy from the Dark Ages: a way to keep things safer in a moist environment while nonetheless in the heat of the furnace. But somehow, the term got shifted around from Greek to Latin to Old French--and got to be Mary's bath, rather than her furnace.
Which is too bad. Because cup custards are sort of like alchemy: gold from rather mundane elements.
Anyway, whisk together 3 large egg yolks, 1 large whole egg, 2 cups milk (whole, low-fat, or even fat-free will work), 1/3 cup sugar, and 2 teaspoons vanilla extract. And I mean "whisk." Get a work-out! Get that mixture uniform and foamy.
Ladle or pour it into the cups or ramekins. Grate a little nutmeg over the mixture in each cup. Take that tea kettle off the boil and let the water settle down for a few seconds.
Pull out the (hot) oven rack a little ways and set the baking pan with the filled cups on it (make sure it's all steady), then pour the very hot water into the baking pan, until it's about halfway up the cups or ramekins. Take care that no water splashes into the cup custards themselves.
Gently slide the rack back into the oven, close the door, and bake until the custards are set when the pan is jiggled, about 45 minutes. When you tap the baking pan, the custards should definitely be firm at the edges but not so firm as to appear solid. The center may move just a bit, not in waves, more like a gelling liquid, moving as a whole piece.
Remove the cups from the hot water bath. One warning: it's really hot and you'll probably need to use a kitchen towel to get a grip on them, but remember that the minute that towel becomes damp, it becomes a very, very effective conduit of heat. Transfer the cup custards to a wire rack and cool for 30 minutes. Then cover with plastic wrap and store in the refrigerator for up to 3 days. As if they'll last that long!
Reader Comments (2)
These remind me of my late-Dad. Not that he ever made custard, himself. But he'd often bring home a custard pie from Chinatown in San Francisco. I grew up on those cold, creamy, ivory-colored pies. And I can't help but think of him whenever I see custard anywhere about. Thanks for the memories.
Carolyn: I know--memories for sure. My mother always said they cured what ailed me. These days, in this world of economic turmoil, a lot ails me. So maybe that's why I'm attracted to them. (And the color! So like spring.)
Love Chinatown custards. Those little custard tarts in the pie shells. We always get ours at the Lung Moon bakery in New York's Chinatown. Yum.