
Chef Thomas
Apple Charlotte
Buttered bread baked to a deep mahogany around a filling of spiced Bramley apples, turned out at the table in a small moment of drama, cold cream poured from a jug alongside.
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A cold vanilla custard hidden beneath a thin sheet of burnt sugar that cracks under the spoon, the pudding Trinity College has been serving since 1879 and the reason to keep a blowtorch in the drawer.
There's a sound you want to hear: the small, firm crack of a spoon breaking through the caramel crust and into the cold custard beneath. Not a crash. A crack. A clean break that gives way to something silky and vanilla-scented and slow. That sound is the whole point of this pudding.
Trinity College in Cambridge has been serving burnt cream since 1879, and the French have been making their version of the same idea for even longer than that. I won't get into whose came first. It doesn't matter. What matters is that a cold vanilla custard under a sheet of burnt sugar is one of the more civilised things you can put in front of someone at the end of a dinner.
This is a pudding for cold weather and dinner parties and evenings that deserve a bit of quiet ceremony. Late autumn onwards, when the clocks have gone back and the dining room needs candles by six. It asks very little of you: cream, egg yolks, vanilla, sugar, patience. The patience is the hardest part. The custards need to chill properly, overnight if you can manage it, and the sugar goes on at the last possible minute.
I wrote it down in the notebook years ago with a note in the margin: keep the custard pale, burn the top hard. Still the best advice I have for this one. We're only making dinner, and the dinner happens to end with something quietly splendid.
Quantity
600ml
Quantity
1
split and seeds scraped
Quantity
6
Quantity
75g
for the custard
Quantity
6 tablespoons
for the crust
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| double cream | 600ml |
| vanilla podsplit and seeds scraped | 1 |
| large egg yolks | 6 |
| golden caster sugarfor the custard | 75g |
| caster sugarfor the crust | 6 tablespoons |
Pour the cream into a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Split the vanilla pod down its length, scrape the seeds into the cream, and drop the empty pod in after them. Bring it slowly to the edge of a simmer, the point where the surface shimmers and a few small bubbles gather at the rim. Don't let it boil. Take it off the heat, cover the pan, and leave it to sit for twenty minutes. The vanilla needs that quiet time to give itself up to the cream.
While the cream infuses, whisk the egg yolks and the 75g of caster sugar together in a bowl. Not to ribbon stage, not until pale and fluffy. Just until the sugar has dissolved and the mixture turns the colour of thin buttermilk. This is a custard, not a sponge. You're not trying to get air into it.
Pour the warm vanilla cream slowly into the yolks, whisking gently as you go. Slowly is the word. If you dump it in, you'll scramble the eggs and have to start again. When it's all combined, strain the mixture through a fine sieve into a jug. The sieve catches any stray bits of egg and the empty pod, and the jug makes pouring into the ramekins easier.
Heat the oven to 150C/130C fan. Sit the ramekins in a deep roasting tin. Divide the custard between them. Boil a kettle, then pour hot water carefully into the tin until it reaches halfway up the sides of the ramekins. Slide the tin into the oven and bake for thirty to forty minutes. The custards are ready when the edges are set but the centres still wobble when you give the tin a gentle nudge. Think of a shoulder shrug, not a handshake. A liquid centre means more time. A firm centre means you've gone too far.
Lift the ramekins carefully out of the water with a cloth or a pair of tongs and set them on a rack to cool to room temperature. Then cover each loosely with cling film and refrigerate overnight. They need this time to set properly and to become properly cold, all the way through. A burnt cream that isn't cold isn't a burnt cream. It's soup with a lid.
When you're ready to serve, take the ramekins out of the fridge and blot any condensation from the surface with kitchen paper. Sprinkle a thin, even layer of caster sugar over each custard, about a tablespoon, tilting the ramekin to coat evenly and tapping off any excess. Fire up the blowtorch. Hold it a few inches from the sugar and move it in small, steady circles. The sugar will melt, bubble, and turn amber. Trust your nose: when it starts to smell of proper caramel, you're close. Keep going until you have an even deep gold, not black patches. Let the sugar set for a minute so the crust hardens, then carry the ramekins to the table.
1 serving (about 145g)
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