Recipe Revamp: Easy Homemade Canelés

Portable Crème Brûlée

We rarely get date nights these days. So, Saturday night, Daisy got to go to a birthday party and had a sugar-fueled blast playing in a bouncy castle while Shawn and I went out to a funky little place called Canelé for dinner. We relaxed, sipped cocktails, chatted mostly about missing Daisy. The warm olives reminded us of those we had at a hip Italian place in London many years ago. Then dinner arrived, a lovely roast chicken for Shawn and a whole branzino for me, which was an odd choice since I usually don’t like my food staring at me.  It was lovely. We definitely ate too much, though, but not enough to refuse the sweet little canelés offered at the door on our way out. I first heard of them from my chef friend Sayat. The photos I found showed pretty little molded cakes that looked a tad burnt, even the ones made by the pros. Canelés are typically French, reputed to be very difficult to make. “Oh, the batter is so finicky. It needs to rest, but just long enough, but not too long. Wait too much and you are doomed for,” the hostess said. Because I’d never had one before, I was even so bold as to ask for an extra one to take home to my little sweetheart. Well, I could not wait to get home and see if they are even worth all that trouble.  One taste of these cute, little bite-sized cakes with a crisp caramel coating and a spongy, vanilla-scented center and I was done for. They really are like portable crème brûlée. I was intrigued by what the hostess had said about the fussy recipe, so much, in fact, that I stayed up late to find out just how difficult it was to make these cute little things.

One recipe said the batter absolutely must rest in the fridge for some magical amount of time that resembled forever, then warmed to room temperature for an hour before baking.  Who has that kind of time? Another called for coating the signature fluted copper molds with beeswax (both pricey and difficult to find). I even found one that said something about heating the oven with the door open, then closing it and reducing the temp, waiting another x amount of time before starting the baking. Each claimed to be the authentic recipe, the original antique formula from Bordeaux. One said 2 eggs for 1/2 cup flour, while another said 3 eggs, 2 yolks for 1/2 cup flour. Trying to figure out which was the best recipe was dizzying. A recipe should be so straight-forward that you can almost figure out the instructions without having to read them. Beeswax, special fluted molds and tons of time, I don’t have, nor am I going to engage in ridiculous antics. Butter, mini cupcake pans and persistence, however, I do have. So, I decided to do my own thing and got a winner, incredibly irresistible and uncomplicated. Dad loved them so much that when I offered to make his usual favorite crème caramel, he said, “Hmm, no, I want you to make those little thingies.” That’s when I knew I had something really good. You really don’t need anything fancy to make the best canelés right at home. Use a mixer, if you have one, but I gently whisk the batter by hand, just like a French grandmother. Grab a pitcher instead of a bowl for easy pouring and follow the instructions. Yours will come out perfectly every time. Resist the urge to open the oven door. It’s perfectly alright if some of them burn around the edges. Those actually taste better than the rest with their perfectly caramelized crunchy shells. Just don’t forget the rum.

Butter is best

Makes: 16 2-inch canelés
Prep: 15 minutes
Chill: 1 hour
Bake: 75 minutes