Saturday, June 25, 2011

Roasted Nectarine and Lime Custard Cake

I recently started watching The Wire, obviously years behind everyone else in the universe who has cable, a wallet, or Netflix. What can I say? I know I have no self-control, and things with a tendency toward developing an addiction, including shows like The Wire, require special circumstances in which I will not be beset by the guilt of shirking my duty coupled with the knowledge that there’s nothing I can do about it. Okay, maybe I’m not quite that delinquent, but I do know that The Hunger Games, The Wire, and reading everything ever written about Nectarine paste is something best left for an overabundance of spare time. Thank goodness teachers get a summer break. (Anyone who had to talk to me at any point in June is probably echoing these sentiments right now).


At any rate, despite the fact that this show clearly portrays life in inner city Baltimore through a completely un-sugarcoated lens (and perhaps, by proxy, other urban settings), I periodically find myself giggling as I watch the show. Is it the odd juxtaposition of drug violence and the beautiful green sweater I am knitting as I watch it? Or the fact that there is one scene in which literally the only word they use starts with F and ends with K, and has a U and a C somewhere in the middle. Even I, who have burned myself on more than enough hot glass, metal, and ceramic objects in the last decade to have quite a colorful vocabulary, and no doubt said some really obscene things the last time a taxi-cab tried to turn right through me on my bike, have never used such a spectacular array of F-bombs in conjunction with other words. Did you know that it can apparently be used as a noun, verb, and adjective, and frequently, all in the same sentence? Possibly without even other words? Maybe you did know that and you are just too polite to show off your knowledge. Intonation is also important. Keep that in mind the next time you want to show that you can make a grammatically correct sentence using only one word. (I actually read about this in a linguistics book once, but I think they were using a more docile word like “fish” as the example).


In the interest of making it through my first three days of summer break with more than two braincells left, however, I decided to take a break from watching this afternoon and make dessert. I’ve heard there’s a website where you can type in the stuff you have in your cabinet/refrigerator/etc and it will tell you what you can make. I prefer my own version of this, which involves me deciding I want to use some random thing staring mournfully at me from the counter and start mixing and matching recipes until I get what I want. That’s more or less what happened here. I bought nectarines two days ago. I have no idea why, except that I love them. I had no plans for them, and realized that my impending travel plans made nectarine usage a virtual emergency. I also, for some reason, decided I wanted a custard like thing. Despite the name, though, I really think this is more like a soufflĂ©. It’s really not a cake. That is misleading. It has a spongy consistency which is utterly delightful and I would eat all of them if that wasn’t as socially inappropriate as my use of profanity outside of the bike lanes of Philadelphia.


I will say several things about this recipe before we get on with it. First, quantities of things like the lime zest and the nectarine are negotiable. Originally, it was supposed to be lemon. I didn’t have any and was far too lazy to go find one. But for some strange reason we had three limes. So that’s what I used. Second, the foundational recipe also suggested three cups of nectarine paste. From my own experiment, that would involve 12 nectarines and more nectarine past than I think is really necessary.


Roasted Nectarine and Lime Custard "Cake"


8 small custard cups, a muffin tin, or something with similar size/shape


¾ cup sugar

zest of 2 limes

2 Tbsp unsalted butter, softened, + more for pans

3 Tbsp flour

3 eggs, separated

1 cup milk

4-6 nectarines


Cut the nectarines and remove the pit. Place them face down on parchment paper on a baking sheet, and put this in a 350 degree oven for about an hour, until they are nice and soft. Please don’t forget the parchment paper, or the sugary juices of the nectarine will effectively glue the nectarines to the baking sheet. Let the nectarines cool, and then pulverize them in a food processor. You are aiming for a “paste” here. If your nectarines were anything like mine, you will have about 1 ½ cups of paste. Ultimately, I only used one cup, but you could use more if you want, and if you have leftovers, spread it on a piece of oatmeal bread and there will be nothing to worry about.



Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Diligently butter the custard tins.



Zest the limes into the sugar. Mix the sugar and lime together with the back of the spoon, infusing the sugar with the lime flavor. I learned this trick from one of my favorite blogs, Joy the Baker. It makes the sugar deliciously limey. I honestly don’t know how different the final product would be if you didn’t bother with this but it was so good this way, I say go for it.


Cream the butter and zested sugar together. (It’s not really creaming, honestly, because there’s not that much butter, but at least mix it). Add the flour and egg yolks, and mix thoroughly. Slowly add the milk, and then the nectarine paste to taste. You should have a very liquidy mixture. At this point, I would adjust the nectarine and lime flavors to taste. If you dip your finger in it (ignoring any salmonella dangers) and immediately think “Mmmm, heaven”, then you’re probably all set.


Beat the egg whites until you have soft peaks. Gently fold this into the other mixture with a rubber spatula until it is thoroughly integrated. No omelets in the cake, please.


Pour the mixture into the custard pans. Place these in a baking tray (such as you might use for brownies or a sheet cake) and pour hot water around them. I actually boiled water way earlier in the process, put the custard tins into the tray, poured in the mixture, and then poured in the water, in that order.

If you’re feeling really fancy (which I was this afternoon), you can take a hint from some other delectable custard recipes, and pour caramelized sugar in the bottom of the custard cups before you pour in the custard. To make this, mix:


8 Tbsp sugar

4 Tbsp water


In a saucepan, and heat over medium-high heat until it is a light amber color. Pour immediately. Seriously. You are caramelizing sugar. Don’t wait.


There appears to be some debate about whether you are supposed to stir the sugar-water mixture or not. Some recipes are adamant that you don’t touch it at all, while others insist that you stir constantly. I don’t know what you should do. I stirred whenever I felt like it and wasn’t doing something else (yes, I realize that multitasking in a kitchen with multiple hot things going probably increases my risk of burning and thus unacceptable levels of profanity).


I ate this after a lovely dinner of pesto-grilled chicken with a glass of homemade sangria. I encourage you to do the same.

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