Thursday, July 8, 2010

Vanilla Bean

Flan is incredibly special to me. It was, and still is, the dish my family awaits at Christmas. It is a food I associate with a number of things: my heritage, celebrations, and one particular person: my big sister. This dessert is annually made by her mother, it is served in her house, and (though she might not know it) I eat it every year right beside her. Or at least I try to. Every year we both close our eyes. We hum the same "Mmmm". We both sneak more accompanying dulce de leche than we should. We have never been close, but in this moment, this is when I feel the most connected to her.

I suppose all families have this conundrum; The eternal debate of whether or not a specific dish ordered elsewhere compares to the one made "famous" by a family member. ("Oh, this sangria is good, but it does not compare to Dad's" ...) At every instance I compliment Elizabeth, my sister's mom, on her flan. Even for a birthday or BBQ, if she brings a flan, it always is flawless. She blushes, and denies these compliments humbly. "You can make it too", she says pink-faced,"es muy facil". This is the standard to which I hold my attempts in making flan. And she knows this.

Presently, thanks to a little wonder called a vanilla bean, the air is fat with the scent of vanilla. I always must consult my recipe (as I always forget my milk-to-egg-to sugar ratios) and it states 2 tsp. vanilla extract or 1 vanilla pod. This flan is a gift, after all, thus the pod was bought. I wanted this flan to be super special. (If she is reading this blog, she knows what she is getting for her birthday. Happy birthday, Majel!)

I have never cooked with an actual vanilla bean, so what to expect? It's skinny, awkward, delicate... just like the seeds that are inside. You slice open the pod like a biology project. The seeds, no matter how much you wisk, stick to everything and enjoy clumping together. I can truly say that I tried my best to disperse the seeds throughout, but hopefully the vanilla-steeped cream will erase this error. I must say, despite the initial clumsiness, cooking with a pod is incredibly special... No wonder they are so expensive! Once opened, the scent hits you like a slap in the face. You cannot help but close your eyes and inhale deeply. Vanilla ...! Forget scented candles and air fresheners, this is what vanilla is supposed to smell like. What a dream...

And now the flan is cooling on the counter, staring me in the face. A round glob of white with a centered clump of vanilla specs. How will you taste like, Flan? Should I have tested this before making it for someone else? Will I miss the flavor of my tried-and-true extract? Will one person's helping get all of the vanilla seeds? Will anyone taste anything at all? I have no answers. We will have to wait and see.