Naked flan-Apple Flan Loaf with Caramelized Sugar Syrup -- Naked Whiz Ceramic Charcoal Cooking

Leche flan doesn't particularly stand out on a table of desserts. The baked custard is an inch high at most, and unassuming shades of pale yellow and brown. At family parties, it didn't hold a candle in the looks department compared to showy Goldilocks cakes or vibrant ube ice cream. However, it is the first dessert to disappear, hotly contested in the ancient Filipino tradition of taking home days of leftovers after a gathering. Rich and velvety, leche flan is the Philippines' answer to Spanish flan.

Naked flan

Naked flan

Naked flan

Naked flan

We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish. Giselle Krachenfels. Just mix well with a whisk until smooth. Add water to Naked flan tray and cover with aluminum foil. Uy hala, wa man diay nako naapil ang pandan sa recipe noh? It's a dish for celebrations — birthday parties, Naked flan, anniversaries — given the call for a hefty dozen egg yolks. This was so rich and creamy, I can even taste the calories in it. My mother, Clariza, like many first generation daughters, worked hard in school growing up, went to a good college, and then moved back in Spice nipple her parents.

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This weekend, I had to give in to my craving for something sweet, egg-y and creamy.

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This weekend, I had to give in to my craving for something sweet, egg-y and creamy. I thought of making some custard cake or tart, but suddenly thought of that really delicious Pandan Flan that I had at Crimson Resort in Mactan last month.

I like a good Leche Flan, but I try to avoid the ones that are too rich unfortunately, most of them are. But when we were at Crimson, they had, among the many dessert varieties at their buffet, a leche flan with a twist. It was Pandan flavored and it was sinfully good. It was creamy but light, melted in your mouth and had just the right amount of Pandan flavor in it--not too aromatic or overpowering.

I vowed to make my version of it. It turned out really good, but next time I might make it a little lighter. This was so rich and creamy, I can even taste the calories in it. I might make the caramel a little less sweet too. Freshly baked. I was so happy to see these babies come out of the oven. They smelled so good! But overall I was so happy with this. I'm already thinking about serving this for dessert the next time I have the neighbors over. Finished product.

Creamy, rich and delicious flan. Mix the custard ingredients eggs and milk well in a glass bowl. Do not use an electric mixer. It will cause the mixture to bubble and will result in plenty of holes or craters in your flan. Just mix well with a whisk until smooth. Set aside. Make the caramel. Mix the sugar and water and heat over medium-high while continuously stirring until it reaches caramel consistency it should be light brown in color. Place ramekins on a roasting pan. Divide the caramel among your ramekins, making sure the bottom is completely covered.

Pour boiling water in the roasting pan, about 1-inch deep. Cover the roasting pan with aluminum foil and poke holes on it so steam can come out.

Bake in the oven for 40 minutes. Chill your flan before serving. Run a knife through the sides of the ramekin and invert the flan into a plate to serve. Top with fruit--raspberry or strawberry makes for a good garnish. Posted by Liza at AM. Aileen said I wish I lived in your house! Hello, Ai!

Oh, if you lived in my house, manambok gyud tang duha! I love cooking for others more than myself, so basin di na gyud ko mu-undang ug luto and kaon! You are one great chef;- yes, a chef.. Mommy Blogs said Uy hala, wa man diay nako naapil ang pandan sa recipe noh? I put 2 tsp Pandan extract, Tiris!

Post a Comment. Monday, July 16, My take at Pandan Flan. Subscribe to: Post Comments Atom. About This Blog I got interested in photography when I met my husband. When we got married, we met a great photographer who inspired me even more. I never really shared my photos. But lately, I've been introduced to photoblogging and I saw it to be a great way of expression. My photos are amateur but I hope to learn more as I blog and connect with people.

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Upload a picture of your dish Image. Leave a comment about this recipe or ask a question? You'll find thousands of German foodies, all eager to help and to talk about all things German, especially these yummy foods. I made a silly rookie mistake and baked it in a cheesecake pan. Yeah, we went there.

Naked flan

Naked flan. Naked videos

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Naked Eye: My take at Pandan Flan

Leche flan doesn't particularly stand out on a table of desserts. The baked custard is an inch high at most, and unassuming shades of pale yellow and brown. At family parties, it didn't hold a candle in the looks department compared to showy Goldilocks cakes or vibrant ube ice cream.

However, it is the first dessert to disappear, hotly contested in the ancient Filipino tradition of taking home days of leftovers after a gathering. Rich and velvety, leche flan is the Philippines' answer to Spanish flan. It's a dish for celebrations — birthday parties, graduations, anniversaries — given the call for a hefty dozen egg yolks. Condensed and evaporated milk make the custard extra creamy and thick, and are much easier to keep good in steamy Filipino weather.

I can't think of leche flan without thinking of the Salvador women, especially my lola grandma , Nelia. Her food figures prominently in my childhood: tortang tilong with eggplant from her garden, bowls of salty-sweet chicken adobo, impossibly crispy lumpia that took a production line of relatives to prep, assemble, and fry. But it's her leche flan , surrounded by a river of caramel sauce, that I remember most. My lola brought her leche flan recipe with her when she immigrated from Manila to Brooklyn in She came alone to work as a nurse, her husband and children following behind a year later.

I think of the courage it must have taken to come to an unfamiliar country by herself. Brooklyn was worlds away from her former life: bone-chilling winters, crammed apartments, people who resented her community's presence but happily used their labor. Only decades later did she reveal that she cried almost every day from sheer loneliness. In spite of their hardships, Lola and Lolo carved out a new life in the States.

They worked tireless, long hours at their jobs, she as a nurse and he as an accountant. Though they cultivated a circle of friends in the Filipino community and raised four children, I don't think America ever felt like home to them in the same way the Philippines did. My grandparents came for a chance to give their children better prospects and worked hard to achieve that. Survival was primary. I don't think the luxury of feeling "at home" was something that ever crossed their minds.

Lola's leche flan recipe calls for 12 egg yolks, a true extravagance. My mom remembers that Lola could make it with just four or six eggs in lean times. At fiestas, leche flan was a perfect window back into their old life. Despite their circumstances, Lola always set her table with largesse. Relatives mentioned how she could stretch a single egg across her behemoth of a wok, so everyone would get a piece.

When my paternal grandfather passed away, I was surprised to see Lola join us on the flight to Florida. She barely knew my grandma and didn't speak great English. Lola, however, made short work of little barriers like that. She cooked Western food that was unfamiliar to her and tidied their condo until spotless. Once I saw her and my other grandma sitting in silence next to each other. They didn't talk — and I don't think they needed to. Compassion is quiet. My mother, Clariza, like many first generation daughters, worked hard in school growing up, went to a good college, and then moved back in with her parents.

She broke the mold when she announced she was moving to Los Angeles. The family was aghast. Lolo briefly disowned her. But Lola quietly packed a bag and flew across the country to help my mother find a place. Fresh out of nursing school, my mom was nervous when introduced to my dad, one of her first patients at UCLA. They both distinctly remember her tangling him up in a mess of IV tubing. A few years after getting married, they moved to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, to raise my twin brother and me.

Chapel Hill is a liberal spot in a decidedly conservative state, but the South was wildly different from what my mother knew. Southern suburbia is a peculiar beast. It's a world of often difficult-to-navigate social politics, invisible to the naked eye, and deceptively insular communities. Years can pass before you break in. Eventually, she learned the intricacies of the PTA, summer camps, cotillion a blessedly short run-in, thank god , club soccer, the local church, and what it actually means when someone says "Bless your heart.

Most of all, Mom made leche flan. She baked it for new neighbors, for work, for potlucks, for class projects, and after school events.

Today I believe my mother made leche flan as an introduction to who she was. At potlucks, it was an unfamiliar but welcome addition to the dessert table. Several co-workers specifically requested leche flan every year for the Christmas party.

Even finicky elementary school kids liked its simplicity and gentle richness. My mother's leche flan, like her, is quiet and unobtrusive at first. She's made of quiet steel. She's told me about interactions where patients pointedly stated they did not want "her kind" taking care of them or the time a receptionist at a nannying agency told her, "We're not hiring," when she came to find a babysitter. My brother and I look ambiguous enough to pass as white, which means we don't necessarily look Filipino.

Growing up, people would say to us: "I thought you were mixed with something but didn't know what. My ability to pass for white also means that my life has smoother edges where it was jagged for my mother and her family. In the Philippines, an entire skin whitening industry exists because of a post-colonial legacy that positioned whiteness as the beauty standard. Filipina women who look mestiza , mixed, are celebrated in a way that darker-complexioned, curly-haired Filipina women are not.

Growing up, I picked leche flan over other desserts because 1 it is ridiculously delicious and 2 I wanted to show that even if I didn't look quite like my mom's family, I was a part of them.

I started cooking Filipino food as a way to connect with my family's culture. No problem. Leche flan, on the other hand, evaded my efforts. It curdled, it bubbled, it emerged with a tire-like texture.

I became quietly transfixed by the idea that producing the perfect flan would give me, after all these years, some sort of credit. My cohort was a diverse mix of students from all around the world, all of whom seemed to have a tight grasp on what they were — Italian, Taiwanese, Norwegian, Indian.

In Los Angeles, I joined a Filipino student group. The club members could not have been more welcoming, but I couldn't shake my internal conviction that I was taking up space I didn't earn.

How much of a claim to my heritage do I have? In identifying as Filipino-American without fully looking the part or speaking Tagalog, am I just unfairly taking the good without the harsh realities most face? When does 50 percent round up?

Many people think that it's a product of our "snowflake generation" to obsess over identity instead of actual problems. But as Bo Ren so eloquently said, I'm endlessly grateful for my mother and grandmothers' struggles for survival and acceptance, all so I could be tasked with the luxury of self-actualization. One day, I finally turned out a beautiful leche flan.

It was soft and perfect and didn't curdle. My roommates loved it, yet my official Filipino badge never arrived. In fact, nothing else really changed for me. Maybe it's a tradition for the Salvador women to keep their recipes a secret.

Maybe it's a Filipino thing. Food is absolutely central to Filipino culture. One of the most common Tagalog greetings is " Kumain ka na ba? There's no conceiving of a gathering of people that doesn't revolve around food. People care passionately about what they eat, what they think you should eat, and above all, the opportunity to feed others. The fact that I let a dessert become the crux of an identity crisis might make me more Filipino than anything else.

I don't have many of the answers to my questions about identity. Expecting a leche flan to do that was foolish. I may not have gotten an official badge, but I did connect with an integral part of Filipino culture.

This story was originally published on Food Giselle Krachenfels. The leche flan that ties my family together.

Naked flan

Naked flan

Naked flan