As I write this post, I’m hanging my head in shame.  You see, dear readers, I’ve been holding out on you.  Not intentionally, mind you, but holding out just the same.  The other day, as I was sifting through recipes to include in my Easter brunch roundup, I re-read my old post on Savory Vegetable Noodle Kugel and realized something.  In that post I told you about a fab recipe for a Cherry Noodle Kugel that I was going to share.  And, I never did.  I swear, I meant to!  It just never happened.  My sin was one of omission, and I intend to rectify it right now!    Since this week also marks the beginning of the Jewish celebration  of Passover, I think it’s the perfect time to do it.    Besides, it gives me an excuse to make this wickedly good kugel again.

Now, before I get thousands of comments informing me that Jews don’t eat wheat products during Passover, let me say that I do know that.  However, Passover is a Jewish holiday and kugel is a Jewish dish, so I’m using one to segue into the other.  Besides, I also know that there are “Passover noodles” made with potato starch, and other gluten-free pasta products available at the supermarket.  Any of them would work in this dish.

I acquired this recipe more years ago than I care to remember from a sweet, Jewish “Bubbe” named Esther.  She and her husband, Jerry, had been old friends of my family for ages.  Since my own grandparents were already gone, I kind of secretly adopted them as surrogates.  Esther was originally from Brooklyn, so she definitely knew a few things about kugel.  Come to think of it, she knew a few things about brisket too.  And, matzoh balls.  But that’s a story for another day. 

Where my vegetable kugel is a savory dish, Esther’s kugel is a sweet one, making it a great choice for dessert.  It also makes for a tasty breakfast and a very satisfying late night nosh.  It’s rich and creamy and fruity.  And, who doesn’t love that?

The recipe for this dish couldn’t be easier.  A simple custard made from eggs, milk, cream cheese, sour cream and sugar is whizzed up in the blender.  Then, it is poured over cooked egg noodles and baked.  A topping of cherry pie filling is added during the last fifteen minutes of baking time.  When everything is browned and bubbly, the kugel is done.  That’s it!

I like to use super fine egg noodles in this kugel, because it gives the dish a smoother, more custardy texture.   Feel free to use the wider ones if that’s what you prefer.  Your kugel won’t be any less scrumptious – and it will be scrumptious.

Whatever you celebrate, make. this. kugel.  You’ll be glad you did.  And, if Esther were here, she would be too.

I’ve always been somewhat of a food purist.  I’m probably the only person over the age of five that actually prefers a plain cheese pizza to one with a zillion toppings.  Pasta nirvana for me is a bowl of spaghetti with Marcella Hazan’s three ingredient tomato sauce.   And, I take my vanilla ice cream straight up – no add-ins, thankyouverymuch.   Actually, my very favorite ice cream flavor is fior di latte, which doesn’t even have vanilla in it.  It’s not that I don’t appreciate more complex flavor combinations, because I do.   But sometimes,  I just like to savor the purity of really good ingredients, like fresh, local, organic cream from happy cows; or sweet and juicy, ripened by the sun, heirloom tomatoes.  And, I love that soft tug against my teeth when I bite into a buttery, melting mass of fresh mozzarella that was made by real hands.

I like my panna cotta straight up as well.   I also enjoy it flavored different ways.  But to me, nothing says heaven more than a soft, pillowy cloud of simply sweetened, pristine creaminess, adorned  by nothing more than a smattering of fresh berries.    Oooh!  I get goosebumps just thinking about it!

Panna Cotta is one of the easiest desserts to make.  Yet, it is so elegant and luxurious, one would never guess.    This basic “fior di Latte”, or “flower of milk” panna cotta recipe only contains three ingredients: cream or milk, sugar and gelatin. That’s it!  And, you can whip up a batch in under fifteen minutes.   If you want to jazz your panna cotta  up a bit, you can add any number of different flavorings to the base, as well as a variety of toppings.  I’ve tried it with everything from instant espresso powder to  fruit purees.  It’s all good.    That’s why this recipe such a “must have” in anyone’s dessert repertoire.  Its ease and versatility make it perfect for every occasion.

Today, I’m sharing panna cotta “di due fiori”, i.e. “with two flowers”.  The first is the basic, unadulterated version, which can be topped with any kind of fresh fruit, gelée, or coulis.  The second one is a panna cotta di fiori di arancia, which translates to orange flowers.  Both recipes are identical, except that I’ve added some orange flower water to flavor the second one.  Orange flower water is a popular ingredient in Italian desserts.  It has a subtle floral quality, and is wonderfully fragrant.  You can find orange flower water at most Italian or Middle Eastern markets, as well as online.

I’ve garnished my plain panna cotta here with fresh blueberries and the orange ones with some of the candied kumquats that I made last week.  Candied orange peel would also be a good choice.  Or, you could just leave it plain and revel in its silky creaminess and sublime simplicity.

As a teen, I remember having lots of conversations with my mother about dating and relationships.  Of her many “isms”, the one I heard most was “Looks aren’t everything.  It’s what’s on the inside that matters.”    Of course, she was right, but my superficial 16 year old brain didn’t always agree.  Before I settled down with Mr. SGCC, I dated a wide variety of boys.  Some were blindingly beautiful, and some had other, less obvious attributes.  More often than not, the pretty boys turned out to be a disappointment.   They were usually too busy flexing their muscles and  gazing at their own reflections in the mirror to worry about such mundane things as developing  a personality or perfecting the art of conversation.  Though I hate to admit it, it was almost always the slightly rumpled, kind of quirky guys that I had the best times with.  They were the ones that made me laugh and feel special.  They had substance.

Oddly enough, I’ve found the same thing to be true when it comes to desserts.  I can’t count the times I’ve drooled over a display of stunningly perfect pastries or cakes, only to be disappointed when I took that first bite.  Sadly, they don’t often taste as good as they look.   I guess looks aren’t everything in the world of sweets either.  This Chocolate Pavlova Torte with Raspberry Dream Cream is a good example.  On the outside, it looks kind of craggy, drippy and messy.  It wears its flaws for the world to see.  But on the inside, it is crunchy, creamy and chewy all at the same time.  It has personality up the wazoo.  And, it is truly sublime! 

A pavlova is a meringue-based dessert with a crisp, crackly outer shell and a lovely, soft, pillowy center.  It is said to have been created in honor of the famed 20th century Russian ballerina, Anna Pavlova.  It’s a light and ethereal dessert that is often served covered with fresh fruit and whipped cream.  In honor of Valentine’s Day, I’ve taken it a step further, studding mine with bits of rich dark chocolate and smothering it with an incredible silky and luxurious raspberry cream.

My Raspberry Dream Cream is inspired by Pierre Herme’s Extraordinary Lemon Cream found in Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home To Yours. I am absolutely mad about that lemon cream! So, when it came to finding a filling for my chocolate pavlova, I decided to adapt Dorie’s recipe using raspberries instead.   The method for making the cream is similar to that for making a fruit curd.  The difference is that the butter isn’t cooked with the other curd ingredients.  Rather, it is added in after cooking and cooling them, creating an emulsion.  Dorie says that because the butter doesn’t melt and re-firm, as it does with curd, the resulting cream is lighter, richer and well… creamier.   I can’t vouch for the science involved, but I can say that the cream definitely lives up to its name.  It is extraordinary, and it tastes like a dream!

To make the pavlova shells, I used my favorite recipe by Nigella Lawson.  They aren’t really difficult at all to make, but baking them can be a little tricky.  It is important to cool them completely inside the oven after baking to avoid having them collapse.  They are still delicious even if they do fall.  But, why not avoid that if you can.

You can see from the photos that my pavlova shells did not turn out perfectly.  Honestly, I didn’t dare cut it before I photographed it for fear of it falling apart!   Unfortunately, when dealing with large hunks of baked meringue, some cracks and dings are inevitable.  I like to think that these are part of their charm.   That said, it is amazing what copious amounts of cream and fruit can hide.  Don’t ask me how I know this.  Just take my word for it.

So, there you have it – an imperfect dessert that is just perfect as it is, flaws and all.  With this much personality, looks really aren’t everything.

I’ve never really been into “cutesy” things.  I’m not one to redecorate my house in themes for every holiday.  And, I never wear sweaters with Rudolph, Cupid or the Easter Bunny plastered across my chest.  Whether it be home décor, fashion or food, I tend to prefer uncluttered, elegant and clean lines.  That’s just me.   Take Valentine’s Day, for instance.  Where is it written that every food served has to be bedazzled in pink or red?   I mean, it’s fine if a food actually is supposed to be pink or red.  Otherwise, I prefer my Valentine treats straight up – hold the gimmicks?   Besides, a great  recipe made with good quality ingredients speaks for itself – like these divine white and dark chocolate Pots de Crème.

Simply put, a pot de crème is the French equivalent of a custard or pudding.  The term literally means “pot of cream”.  Leave it to the French to make something so simple, sound so special!   Anyway, think of a pot de crème as a crème brûlée, without the brûlée.  

Pots de crème are a silky, luxurious and almost sinful indulgence.    While dark chocolate is more traditional, I decided to make some of my pots de crème with white chocolate as well. It takes an extra step to make them two ways, but it is so totally worth it.  Not that these are in any way difficult to make, because they’re not.  Actually, they come together pretty easily.

I found my inspiration for this sweet little Valentine’s Day dessert from Bea over at La Tartine Gourmande.  Bea’s blog is one of the first food blogs I ever read, and it is still one of my favorites.  She shares the most gorgeous food and makes it seem so effortless.

Bea’s pots de crème recipe calls for whole milk.  I swapped out the milk for half and half because, after all, these were meant for Valentine’s Day, so I felt a little extra decadence was in order.   Besides, if I had used milk, there wouldn’t have been enough for cereal the next morning -  and I didn’t feel like running out to the store again.   I also added an extra egg yolk, because I needed the white for another recipe.  I hate to waste a good yolk!

I wish I could tell you which version of these pots de crème I liked loved better, but I can’t.  They were both so outrageously good.  I also wish I could tell you which one Mr. SGCC preferred.  But, I can’t do that either, because my sweets-averse spouse wouldn’t touch them.    For twenty-five years I’ve been making him decadent treats for Valentine’s Day, and for twenty-five years he hasn’t eaten them.   Hey, I’m not complaining.  His loss is my gain. 

Thanksgiving is, without a doubt, the most food centric holiday of the year. And, anyone who has ever prepared a Thanksgiving dinner knows how much work – and stress – is involved. We obsess over every little detail as we strive to wow our families and friends with our culinary prowess. But nobody’s perfect, and sometimes even the best-laid plans go awry. That’s when it helps to have a few tricks up your sleeve.

One year, my mother-in-law accidentally turned my oven on to “broil” while I had two beautiful pumpkin pies baking in it. As I sifted through the ashes of my poor, incinerated pies, I just wanted to cry! Actually, I did cry. But then my creative spirit kicked in, and I came up with this super quick and easy alternative using ingredients that I already had in my pantry.  

Pumpkin Pie Parfaits with Gingersnap Crumbles are a riff on a traditional pumpkin pie. They have all the delicious components of the classic, with a fraction of the effort. The parfaits can either be made the day of or prepared in advance. Thus, they won’t take up valuable real estate in your oven.

The base of these parfaits is a cool and creamy custard made with cook and serve vanilla pudding mix and canned pumpkin puree. The custard is layered with freshly whipped cream and spicy, crunchy gingersnap and pecan crumbles. Despite their humble beginnings, they make a lovely and elegant holiday dessert.

Whether served in pretty wine goblets or funky vintage jars, your guests will never suspect that these scrumptious, little Thanksgiving treats didn’t take hours to prepare.

Seriously!  Are these little jars filled with creamy peanut butter and banana lusciousness not the cutest things ever?  I could just eat them up with a spoon.  As a matter of fact, I did just that.  And they were wonderful. I call them Peanut Butter Banana Cream Pies in a Jar, because…well…because that’s pretty much what they are.  They include all of the components of a classic pie, except they’re layered in small, self-contained, single serving jars.  Pretty clever, huh?  Yeah.  I think so too.

I was cleaning out a few things in my prop room, when I came across some Bormioli canning jars that I didn’t even remember I had.  I couldn’t find the rubber rims, so actually canning something in them was pretty much out of the question.  I thought it would be fun to fill them with some kind of scoopable dessert, like a custard or panna cotta.  Then, a bunch of bananas sitting on the counter caught my eye.  “Hmmm,” I thought, “What about banana pudding with vanilla wafers, just like my mother used to make?” That sounded like a plan.  Then, I noticed the jar of peanut butter next to the box of vanilla wafers, and remembered the most amazing peanut butter cream pie that one of our local restaurants is famous for.  I die over that pie!   Honestly, I just couldn’t choose between the two, so I decided to make them both – in the same dessert.  Peanut butter and bananas are already BFFs, so it made perfect sense to pair them up.  It was one of the best decisions I ever made! 

To make the “crust” for my “pies”, I pulverized some vanilla wafers into crumbs and mixed them with a little sugar and melted butter.  Then, I pressed a thin layer of the mixture down into the bottom of each jar.  After that, I added layers of homemade vanilla bean pastry cream, sliced bananas and peanut butter crumblies that I made by blending crunchy peanut butter and powdered sugar together.   After they were assembled, I snapped on the lids and stored them in the fridge until I was ready to serve them.   It was as easy as pie (pun intended)!  And OMG people, they were unbelievably good!   I could have slurped down that whole bowl of pastry cream all by itself.   Mixed with the other ingredients, it was completely off the charts!

I’ve made other desserts like this before.  I love the idea that everybody gets their own individual portion.  It’s a lot easier than slicing up a pie, it’s neater to eat and it’s a lot more fun.  I think I might really be on to something here.  I’m already toying with the idea of pumpkin streusel pie in a jar for Thanksgiving and apple crumb pie in a jar for Christmas.  Think about it.  You could literally do this with any kind of pie ingredients.  The possibilities are endless.  Deliciously and gloriously endless!

My father had the most magnificent fig tree in his yard.  It was about twenty-five feet tall and the breadth of its branches was almost as wide.  Though he would never actually confirm it, the rumor is that he bred the tree using cuttings smuggled here from a bigger and even more magnificent fig tree that sits on the grounds of his ancestral home in Italy.  I have seen that original tree with my own eyes, and eaten its fruit.  It is amazing!

Dad’s fig tree was the jewel in his garden.  He babied and fussed over it.  He nurtured it through winters that were too cold and summers that were too hot.  That tree was the Goldilocks of fig trees.  Everything about it was just right, including the lush, moist fruit that grew from it.  Dad’s figs were almost the size of small fists!  Ripened by the sun, their flesh was so sweet that droplets of dew-like nectar oozed freely from them.   There was nothing – and, I mean nothing, people – that could rival the taste of my father’s figs.

Almost five years ago, on a grey November day, cancer stole my father away.  Within two weeks, the fig tree dropped all of its leaves, shriveled up and died.  I kid you not.  It was like the tree was in mourning and died of a broken heart. The only sign of life that has come from that tree since is the occasional appearance of a gorgeous, crimson cardinal, who swoops in from time to time and perches itself on a bare, brittle branch.   The bird just sits there, calmly looks around for a minute or two, and then flies off again.

None of us has the heart to chop down the fig tree.  Dad loved that tree, and to do so would almost be like losing him all over again.  So it still stands in its place beside the house as a bittersweet reminder of what once was.

Perhaps it is because of all of those wonderful, homegrown fresh figs I’ve devoured in my life, that I’m in so love with them.    Even now, I have a hard time passing them up when I find them at the market.  Sadly, they’re not quite the same when they come out of a plastic container.   I still buy them however, even though I’m often disappointed.

Another thing I can’t pass up is a good deal.  A few days ago, my market was having a BOGO sale on fresh figs.  They looked really lovely, so I slipped two quarts in my shopping cart, hoping that they would be good.  As I suspected, they were all style and no substance.  Out of the two dozen or so that I had, only about six were worth eating.  The rest were a little hard and dry, and the only thing I could think of that might save them was heat.  I find it intriguing how stewing, baking or roasting lackluster fruits can bring them back to life.  I’ve tried it with  berries, peaches, tomatoes and now, figs.  It works every time.

I thought about making some kind of tart with my figs, but honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to make a crust.  So, I decided that they would be just as delicious in a clafoutis.  For those who don’t know, a clafoutis is a French dessert where fruit is baked in a custard base.  Think of it as a crustless pie.   Traditionally, a clafoutis is made with cherries, but almost any kind of firm fruit will work well.   I love the combination of figs and honey, so I also decided to use that instead of sugar.

Despite its fancy, French name, making a clafoutis is very easy.  The first thing you need to do is cut up your fruit and artfully arrange them in a pie plate or glass baking dish.

Then, whizz up the rest of the ingredients in a blender and pour it over the fruit.

Bake the clafoutis until the custard sets and the top is nicely browned.

Look at how pretty it is!  And it tastes as good as it looks, too.  The custard was rich and creamy, with soft floral notes from the honey and the splash of orange flour water I also added.    Once baked, the figs took on a soft, jammy quality, and their sweetness intensified.   It was a lovely and elegant dessert that took hardly any effort at all.

I wish I had known about things like clafoutis when my father was around.  As delightful as this one was, I can’t help but wonder how spectacular it could have been with his figs.

*Photo of cardinal from iStockphoto.com

Whenever I imagine an intimate, candlelit dinner for two, there are certain foods that are always on the menu, like lobster, oysters, decadent dark chocolate and a fluffy, ethereal soufflé – especially the soufflé.   To me, a soufflé is the ultimate indulgence, reserved for only the most special occasions.  Maybe because it’s French, and I find all things French impossibly romantic and luxurious.  There’s a certain mystique about the soufflé.  It has the reputation  of being temperamental, unpredictable and a tad capricious.  There’s no doubt about it.  The soufflé is a diva. And, divas often get away with their bad behavior because they are brilliant and adored.

Until today, I’d always worshipped the soufflé from afar.  Too fickle for me!  I like a sure thing, and a chocolate cake has never let me down.  But  there comes a time when you have to face your fears and this was my time.  After all, didn’t I overcome my  aversion to dough?  And, what about when I stared my terror of deep frying right in the eye and kicked its butt?  I even survived two Yule Logs and lived to tell about it.  If I could do  all  that, I figured one poufy, phoofy, Valentine’s Day soufflé couldn’t take me down. 

Once I made the decision to go for it, I then had to decide what kind of soufflé to make.  Chocolate was the obvious choice, but If I wanted Mr. SGCC to even taste it,  that wasn’t going to work.   I looked at a lot of different recipes and I finally settled on Daniel Boulud’s version of Passion Fruit Soufflé.  What could be more perfect for Valentine’s Day than a passion fruit dessert?

Boulud pairs his soufflé with a caramelized pear sauce, which honestly, sounds fantastic.  But, I really wanted to find a way to work some chocolate into the dish.  Even though Mr. SGCC doesn’t like chocolate, I still do, and it wouldn’t be a Valentine’s Day dessert to me without it.   So, we struck a happy compromise and I made David Lebovitz’s luscious bittersweet  chocolate sauce to drizzle on top.

Surprisingly, the process of making the soufflé was not nearly as difficult as I expected it to be.  I whipped some egg whites and sugar into oblivion, and then gently folded them into a mix of egg yolks and passion fruit puree.  Then, I plopped the resulting mixture into small soufflé dishes and popped them into the oven.  To help things along, I made the sign of the cross and prayed like hell that they would rise!

Boulud suggests piping the soufflé mixture into the dishes using a pastry bag.  Don’t do it! That stuff is way too thin and fragile.  I lost almost a whole cup of it as it oozed out of my pastry bag and all over my kitchen counter!  I make these mistakes so you don’t have to.  Do yourself a favor and use a spoon.

I’m pleased as punch to report that my little soufflés turned out perfectly.  They were brown and crusty on top and soft and pillowy inside.  And, they rose up like they had wings!   I was so excited that I did a little happy dance all the way to my photo set-up.

I’d read that you have to move quickly when trying to photograph soufflés.  There is a very short window of time before they start to fall.  That’s an understatement!  My soufflés began to sink before I could even get them in front of the camera.  You can see the various height differences in the photos.  Forget food styling!   I was frantically snapping shots like a madwoman!  And, still they fell!

Sinking soufflés aside, I am so glad that I took the plunge and made these.   First, because I proved to myself that I could do it.  I will never fear the diva of desserts again!  And second, because they tasted as divine as they looked!     And, I have to give an extra shout out to David for his fabulous chocolate sauce.  He calls it his little black dress of sauces because it goes with everything and never fails to impress.  He is so right!  That sauce took about five minutes to prepare and was just amazing.  Plus, it didn’t have a drop of butter or cream in it.

Please, please, please don’t be afraid to try these soufflés for yourself.  If I can do it, so can you.  And just think how special your sweethearts will feel when they see what a masterpiece you created just for them!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

When I was a little girl, I hated milk.  H.A.T.E.D. it!  As milk is a pretty big staple in a young child’s everyday diet, this was a problem.  Back then, there weren’t many options for kids like me.  My mother couldn’t run out to the store to pick up soy, rice or almond milk as a substitute, though I probably wouldn’t have liked those any better.  Apparently, my pediatrician told her to just feed me lots of pudding and ice cream to get calcium in me.  Can you imagine prescribing high fat, sugar-laden desserts to boost calcium intake?  I was one lucky kid!  But, I’m reasonably sure that today’s modern baby docs would not approve.

One of the things that my mom used to make for me a lot was tapioca pudding.  I L.O.V.E.D. tapioca pudding!  I used to call it “bubble pudding”, because the tapioca pearls reminded me of tiny bubbles.   Perhaps, this is where the seed for my obsessive adoration for creamy foods was planted.  Mom would serve it in little cups lined with vanilla wafers.  The pudding would soak into the wafers and make them all soft and mushy.  Good stuff! 

Tapioca is basically a root starch derived from the cassava plant.  It’s commonly used as a thickening agent in both sweet and savory foods.  I’ve used it in place of flour or cornstarch to thicken up fruit pies.  Tapioca comes in a few different forms, such as powders, flakes and large or small pearls.  It doesn’t have any flavor of its own to speak of, so it takes on the personality of whatever you add it to.   And, you might have noticed that I also happen to think that tapioca pearls are very photogenic.

I like to enjoy my tapioca pudding with fresh whipped cream swirled in.  Here, I’ve paired it with some of the Slow Roasted Strawberries I made last week.  You can add whatever you like to it.  Sometimes, I stir chocolate chips or raisins into the pudding while still warm.  I’ll bet a drizzle of dulce de leche would be wonderful too!

Fortunately, I eventually overcame my aversion to milk, and actually enjoy a cold glass under the right circumstances.  But, it sure ain’t the same as a bowl of rich and creamy tapioca pudding!

Enjoy!

I’ve eaten a lot of flan in my day – maybe hundreds of pounds.  I’ve eaten it in Mexico, Puerto Rico and in numerous other Caribbean locales.  I’ve also eaten it Cuban-style, thanks to an old college roommate whose family was from Cuba. I’ve ordered it in every Latin restaurant I’ve ever dined in.  I’ve experienced custardy flans, creamy flans, eggy flans and watery flans.   I think it’s safe to say that I know my flan.  And this flan, my dear readers, is the best I’ve ever had.  It’s the Holy Grail of flan.  It’s flantastic.  It is literally caramel covered crack.

The original recipe for this flan came my way over thirty years ago, when my Aunt Yolanda shared it with my mother.  You remember my Aunt Yolanda, don’t you?  She’s that swingin’ 60’s chick I told you about a while back.  Well, she happens to be a fantastic cook too.  (She’s the one who taught me that you should never eat mashed potatoes without some buttery, golden corn mixed in.)  And once upon a time, she had a neighbor from Puerto Rico who was also a fantastic cook.  I don’t remember the neighbor’s name.  We’ll just call her Maria.  Anyway, Maria gave Aunt Yolanda her family’s recipe for flan and all others have paled in comparison ever since.

Why is this flan so amazing?  I think the secret lies in two ingredients that I’ve rarely seen in other recipes – cream cheese and cornstarch.   Both of these ingredients appear to bind the others for a firmer, smoother product.  While still soft and creamy, Maria’s flan does not have that spongy, waterlogged texture that one often finds with flan.  Oh no, no, no!  This flan is dense (in a good way) and impossibly  rich and velvety.  And, you know how a traditional custard flan can sometimes be cloyingly sweet?  Well, not this one.  The cream cheese adds a little tang that balances perfectly with that sticky, gooey caramel.  I would describe it as a cross between a custard and crustless cheesecake.

Another thing about this flan is that it is so darned easy to make.  Aside from the caramel, which is a necessary evil in any flan recipe, everything is just mixed together and whizzed up in a blender.  And to be honest, even making the caramel isn’t really that challenging.

Maria’s original recipe is for a straightforward, traditionally flavored flan.  However, it lends itself to lots of different interpretations.  Since Thanksgiving is right around the corner, I’ve punched up this flan with some pumpkin puree for the perfect holiday dessert.  The mildly sweet and earthy flavor of pumpkin just goes so well with all the rest of that creamy, caramelized goodness.

If you want to knock your friend’s and family’s socks off this Thanksgiving, Make. This. Flan.  They will think you’re a rock star and shower you with praise and gifts.  (There might even be a little jewelry in it for you.)  And, even if they don’t, the pleasure you derive from eating this luscious, caramel-covered crack on a plate will be reward enough!

Enjoy!