La Reyna del Flan: My Shavuot Offering

Shavuot is just around the corner, and I see my friends frantically scouring the internet, searching for the perfect dairy-based dish to commemorate the arrival of our ancestors to the land of “Milk and Honey,” and the point in history when the Jewish people were said to have received the torah. It’s funny that we have a holiday whose main highlight is all things dairy, considering how many Jewish friends I have who suffer from lactose-intolerance. Sounds like a cruel joke to me, but I digress.
At my family get-togethers, which commonly revolve around holidays and food, there is  usually a healthy dose of competition involved. I’m not talking about the Marc Summers-hosted “Double Dare” variety, with obstacle courses and green slime, although we’ve definitely tried those in the past. These days our competitions revolve around culinary feats and there is one title that has eluded me since I joined the ranks of family cooks: La Reyna del Flan, or The Flan Queen.
Several of the matriarchs in the family have held this title in the past. My mom’s cousin, Virginia, blazed the trail with her traditional, Spanish-style flan, whose custard is so silky smooth and deeply rich, that for years, no one dared to compete. Then, Vilma, Virginia’s sister came up like a dark horse with a flan de coco (or candied coconut flan), whose strands of sweet coconut took the spotlight and threatened all we knew and loved about the traditional egg dessert. Not to be outdone, my very own mother entered the race with a super-sized pumpkin flan big enough to feed an army, or one flan-enthusiast family. But for a long time, the clear shoo-in was always my Tia Pipa, whose bread pudding flan simply could not be touched…until now.
Ladies and gentlemen, this Shavuot, I’m bringing out the big guns, as I believe I have rightfully earned my place in my family’s Cuban flan hall of fame with my latest entry. Sure, I borrowed, begged, and stole the best elements of these matriarch’s versions, but in doing so, I believe I created a flan worthy of the regal title.
When it comes to La Reyna del Flan, it looks like I take the cake…er, flan.
5.0 from 2 reviews
Flan
 
Author:
Recipe type: Dessert
Cuisine: Cuban
 
Ingredients
  • 1 can evaporated milk
  • 1 can sweetened condensed milk
  • 1 can coconut milk
  • 4 eggs
  • 1 tsp pure vanilla extract (*Note: Make sure it is kosher for Passover)
  • a pinch of salt
  • ¾ cup sugar
  • 2 tbs water
Instructions
  1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees, and add your empty pan in the oven to warm.
  2. Mix first six ingredients (from evaporated milk to salt) in a blender, and set aside.
  3. In a saucepan, cook the sugar and water over medium heat until the sugar becomes a deep amber color (about 15 minutes).
  4. Working quickly, remove the empty pan from the oven, and pour in the now melted sugar. Swirl the pan around, so the sugar covers the entire bottom of the pan. Pour in the milk and egg mixture over the caramelized sugar.
  5. Insert the now full pan into a larger pan, and fill the larger pan about half-way up with water (a water bath).
  6. Return the flan pan and water bath to the oven, and bake for about 70 minutes or until an inserted toothpick comes out clean.
  7. Remove the flan pan from the water bath, and set on a wire rack to cool. Once cooled completely, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.
  8. When you are ready to serve the flan, run a knife along the edge of the pan, place a rimmed serving platter over the pan, and invert it. The flan should fall easily, and the caramel sauce will coat the top and run along the sides.
  9. Serve immediately.
Notes
This recipe works best in a 9-inch pan.

 

Fufú con Onion Mojo

Fufu with mojo onions
There are certain dishes we expect to see at a traditional Seder table. Chicken soup dotted with fluffy matzoh balls, moist and slow-roasted brisket, maybe even a crisp potato kugel as a classic side dish. But sometimes, when my family wants to spice things up a bit, we look to our Latin culinary traditions for inspiration. For example, as an alternative to a potato-filled side, we prefer to take a cue from the tropical motherland, and feature dishes using the starchy green plantain banana to mop up the juicy overflow from the meat. Plantain bananas exhibit the "waste not, want not" mentality that my family has embraced for generations, as different dishes are created depending on the degree of ripeness in which you find your banana.  Most people are familiar with the classic fried sweet plantains that accompany many a Cuban dish, called "platanos." Unsurprisingly, these are everyone's favorite, as their sweet flesh caramelizes in the hot oil, making them irresistible. Unfortunately, to get this dish just right, fried platanos require the plantain to be over-ripe, letting the sugars really develop and the peel turn almost black. This process can take weeks, which is why I believe recipes were created for the days between. After all, my family is not known for our patience. When plantains are green, their starchy flesh resembles the consistency of a potato, and its flavor is just as mild. Thus, it is featured in many savory dishes in much the same way as a potato is. Plantain chips and tostones, for instance, are made with green, under-ripe bananas.
Mashing the boiled plantains.
Mashing the boiled plantains.
Mashed potatoes are a favorite of my meat-and-potatoes Midwestern husband, and in my household growing up, they were a crowd-pleaser, as well. Thus, as an unexpected twist to the classic mash, my family was partial to mashed green plantains, and they often made an appearance on our dinner table.  Some cultures call it mofongo, and others call it mangu, but in Santiago de Cuba, where my family is from, the name is simple: Fufú. As featured on The Jewish Daily Forward. Traditional fufú is seasoned with specks of roasted meat, but in my family’s history, meat wasn’t always readily available. Fortunately, mashed plantains can easily act as a vehicle for other flavors, making the variations and mix-in possibilities endless.  One of my favorite versions of fufú is seasoned with the number one condiment in any Cuban household:  mojo sauce. This type takes on a unique flavor profile with hints of citrus, garlic, and onions, making it the perfect pairing for the natural aus jus accompanying a traditional brisket. As Passover is a holiday in which we commemorate the Jewish people’s exodus from Egypt, and as the story goes, they left in such a hurry, that there was no time to let their bread rise, I figured that they probably wouldn’t have had time to let their plantains ripen, either.
Fufú con Onion Mojo
 
Author:
Recipe type: Side Dish
Cuisine: Cuban
Serves: 5-6
Prep time:
Cook time:
Total time:
 
An unexpected kosher-for-passover twist on a classic mash.
Ingredients
  • 3 large green plantain bananas, peeled and sliced into 1-2 inch discs
  • 1 lemon, juiced
  • ¼ cup olive oil
  • 3-4 cloves of garlic, finely minced
  • 1 small onion, finely diced
  • 2 tablespoons fresh oregano, minced
  • 3 sour oranges (or 2 navel oranges and 2 lemons), juiced
  • salt and pepper to taste
Instructions
  1. Fill a large pot with cold water and the juice of a lemon. Add a generous sprinkle of kosher salt and the plantains. Cook over high heat, and bring to a boil.
  2. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, add the olive oil and garlic, and cook over medium to low heat. When the garlic reaches a lightly golden color, add the onions, oregano, sour orange juice, and salt and pepper. Lower the heat, and let the sauce simmer until the onions are translucent.
  3. In the large pot with the plantains, prick the bananas with a fork to test their tenderness. When they can easily be pierced, take the pot off the heat.
  4. Reserve 1 cup of the starchy cooking liquid, then drain the plantains.
  5. Return the plantains to the pot, and mash using a potato masher. Thin the mixture with the cooking liquid until it reaches your desired consistency. Mix in some of the mojo sauce, reserving some onions to serve on top.
  6. Serve immediately.

 

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