Far Flung Flan

Sat on the covered patio of the first day of our holiday in Morocco, the last thing I expected to be presented with for pudding was Crème Caramel! My brother-in-law comes from neighbouring Algeria, and always returns from visits home with an array of variations of baklava made by his sisters (layers of filo pastry stuffed with chopped nuts soaked in sugar-syrup with rosewater, also a popular dessert in Greece where the sugar-syrup is replaced by honey). So, not knowing too much about Moroccan cuisine I’d expected that a North African pudding would involve bite-sized pieces of sticky sweet pastry concoction. The texture of Crème Caramel couldn’t have been further from my anticipation, but out it came nonetheless.

 Now I’ve travelled in Spain and South America, and come across the ever-present ‘Flan’ in many parts of the world as a result. Flan and Crème Caramel are essentially the same thing, the UK equivalent being ‘Baked Egg Custard’ (although the latter usually comes in a sweet pastry case, is sprinkled with nutmeg and is known as a Custard Tart). The common denominator is a recipe involving milk and/or cream mixed with eggs (whole or just yolks) baked until set, usually in a water bath (‘bain marie’ in French or ‘/baño de María’ in Spanish).

I confess here and now that I don’t like crème caramel and despite having been presented with native versions of it by well-meaning hosts in Spain, Mexico and Ecuador alike, I’ve never taken to the texture. That having been said, my Grandma used to make a mean custard tart and the additional contrasting consistency of pastry makes it one of my first choices when birthday cakes arrive in the office.

On investigation, it turns out that the crème caramel has conquered many parts of the world. Far beyond Europe, variations of the recipe are popular in South America (particularly Mexico), the Caribbean, the Philippines and even Vietnam. Little wonder then, that it’s also crept into the gastronomic psyche of North Africa.

Crème Caramel is quite a basic recipe requiring no sophisticated processed ingredients. It’s all about chemistry. The gentle heating of the mixture causes the proteins in the egg to coagulate and so firm up the liquid to a soft jelly-like consistency. More modern recipes may use the processed form of gelatine to set liquids to a similar form, but gelatine is derived from animal bones and so is unsuitable for vegetarians.

It seems that the recipe originated in Ancient Rome, which is believed to be the first civilisation to domesticate chickens for egg production. The Romans were inventive experimenters in the kitchen and their produce included a condiment sauce known as ‘garum’ or ‘liquamen’ which my pre-teenage step-son delighted in telling me is made of fermented fish guts. During their culinary trials, the Romans also discovered the setting properties of baked egg, making both sweet (with honey) and savoury versions of egg custard (including with eels). The equivalent Ancient Roman dish was known as ‘Tyropatinam’ and consisted of milk, whole eggs, honey, liquamen, cinnamon and pepper, whisked together and cooked over a slow fire until set. The word ‘flan’ comes from the Latin word ‘flado’ which translates as ‘flat cake’.

Flan conquered palates across the spreading Roman Empire and did not recede with the fall of its originators. Instead it became adopted and adapted to suit local tastes and availability of ingredients. In different parts of the world, recipe variations include fruit, vanilla, coconut milk, lemon juice, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt and honey.

Back on my Moroccan patio, enjoying my first exclusively grown-ups holiday for many years, I decided to brave the crème caramel and see whether I had got over my childhood revulsion (to be fair, I’m sure my childhood experiences of the dessert always originated from one of those 1970’s cardboard ‘ready-mix’ packets). Not really – the texture still defeated me. However, the surprising geography of the flan has intrigued me sufficiently and I’ll have another go when I travel to Catalonia in the summer. There must be something in it - all those flan-loving civilisations can’t be wrong?!