All the decadence and indulgence of a crème brûlée in a single serving portion for a personal treat!
Yield: 1
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Ever since the arrival of my kitchen blowtorch, the word brûlée has taken over my vocabulary, thoughts and dreams. I've been dreaming about the heady scent of pure hot flame. When I enter my kitchen, I've started doing what I've (until this moment kept a secret) deemed the "brûlée shuffle": feet shuffling across the lino, arms in the air, wrists snapping like the quick clap of a flamenco dancer's castanets, I shout, "Brûlée!" and cross the threshold.
And how could I not? Until you personally discover the transformative, possessive powers of a kitchen blowtorch, you won't know this rapturous wonder. It is as if I have discovered fire. And I guess, in a way, I have. ... There are certain foods, foods that have had the power to stop me in my tracks, to make the world fall deaf around me at the very first taste. Foods where the memory of my first taste has stuck with me and become a part of me. Crème brûlée is one of them.
It was the closing dish of some disastrous Valentine's Day date from college: the restaurant was bad, the company was even worse, but a little Valentine's Day special dessert for two meant the entire evening wasn't a wash. Just the agonizing 98 minutes before the crème brûlée arrived at the table. My date and I took our spoons and cracked through the caramelized top, dug in and listened for that satisfying schlooooook. That pull of moist, creamy custard being sucked away from the vacuum of the dish. For the next three minutes, I indulgently moaned my way through more than my half of the dessert, occasionally swatting at his spoon and becoming entirely territorial over this nectar, this soothing balm for my romantic maladies. We parted that night, he dropped me back out front of my dorm and all but burnt rubber, peeling away from the curb. I wasn't offended; to this day, I don't even remember his name. All I know is that he was the giver of the brûlée and I thank him, whoever he is; wherever he is, for that.
There's a certain romance to this dessert. As it did when I was college, it has the tendency to crop up on Valentine's Day. To present itself as being one of the most romantic desserts, what with the anticipation of cracking the shell and reveling in the creamy, milky decadent sublayer. Personally, I struggle to share a dessert this good with anyone. I always do. The thought of missing out on any of it, is too dreadful. I'd much rather eat more than my share and have my date burn rubber to get away from me than share this beauty.
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| A cooked crème brûlée ready to be chilled. |
So, more than five years later, that's why I made this single serving crème brûlée. I made it, ate it and washed the dishes before my husband returned from work and my kid came back from nursery. I ate it sitting on the living room floor in complete silence, with a gentle summer breeze blowing through an open window. Blissful. The way a decadent dessert for one should be. The way crème brûlée should be.
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| EuroVanille, purveyors of fine vanilla, kindly provided the vanilla for this recipe. |
Ingredients:
For the single serving crème brûlée
1 bourbon vanilla pod's seeds
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon caster (superfine) sugar
2 egg yolks
100 grams (3 1/2 ounces) double (heavy) cream
demerara sugar
Instructions:
- Preheat the oven to 150c /300f.
- Boil a kettle of water.
- Slice the vanilla pod lengthways and use the back of your knife to scrape out the seeds. Place the vanilla seeds in a pot with the cream and vanilla extract and bring to the boil.
- Whisk the egg yolks with the caster sugar in a small bowl.
- Pour, ever so slowly, the boiled cream over the egg mixture a little at a time, whisking all the time.
- Scoop off any froth that forms and pour the mix into a ramekin placed inside of a baking tray.
- Pour the boiled water around the outside of the ramekin so that it comes halfway up the dish, making a bain-marie.
- Bake for 40 minutes or until the crème is set very wobbly at the center.
- Remove the ramekin from the bain-marie and leave to cool on the counter for five minutes. Chill in the fridge for 2 hours.
- Sprinkle demarara sugar over the surface of the brûlée after it has chilled. Burn the sugar with a blowtorch to caramelize it. If you do not have a blowtorch, place the sugared brûlée under a very hot grill or broiler.
- Kick your shoes off, get comfy, slow down and savor in this absolutely sumptuous and divine dessert.
