Flan Is To Queen Latifa As Jericalla Is To Gwyneth Paltrow

Yes, yes, you can get a great flan in San Pancho, and none better than Eme´s, as Ellen told us in her story last August. But flan, though delicious, mind you, is a little heavy. You can stand a spoon up in it. You can experience a certain “I can´t believe I ate the whole thing” moment when your plate is empty.

Consider the jericalla—a postre light as a butterfly, as delicate as a gardenia petal. An egg custard—milk, sugar, yolks—flavored with canela (cinnamon) and vanilla. The local cinnamon sticks are softer and more perfumed than the ones we use north of the border, though all are imported from the Spice Islands. However, the orchid which produces vanilla beans grows in Veracruz. The Aztecs introduced it to the Spanish and the Spanish to the world. I first heard that jericalla came from Guadalajara, but a dinner guest insisted it was from his home state of Michoacán. My housekeeper says it’s from the state of México. You could suspect it comes from France, since it is made just like a crème caramel or crème brûlée without the caramelized or “burnt” top, but those famous desserts couldn’t have contained vanilla until after the Conquest.

Recipe for Jericalla

Simmer 5 ½ cups of milk with a large stick of canela and a vanilla bean or ½ teaspoon of vanilla extract for 20 minutes. Add ½ cup of sugar and simmer 20 minutes more. Cool. Beat in 5 or 6 yolks, divide among 8 custard cups placed in a baño maria (or, as we say in English—well, we don’t say in English. We use the French bain marie.) Cook at 350° until set, about 30 to 50 minutes depending on the altitude. You could top it with a little grated canela but hold the fruits, slivered almonds, coconut or mint sprigs which often show up on the crème brûlées. It’s too perfect as is.