I will never eat this again and not remember aโฆtouchy conversation over lunch with my family. A few weeks before the lunch, Iโd called my mother to ask her to share her recipe for caramel flan.
She couldnโt believe my timing. Sheโd just found a tiny scrap of paper on which her mother had hand-written that very recipe.
I couldnโt believe my luck. My grandmother, whom I miss and whose cooking cannot be matched. Her recipe. It was meant to be. I asked my parents and my aunt to come over for lunch; after, weโd make the flan together. I was looking forward to this precious, memorable afternoon.
My mom pulled out the recipe over lunch and handed it to my aunt. Look at mummyโs handwriting. So delicate even when scribbling down a recipe.
I peeked over my auntโs shoulder to look at this scrap of paper for the first time, my eyes narrowed and just as I was thinking it, my aunt said it: This isnโt mummyโs handwriting!
My mom wasn’t having it. What! It is!
No! This is not mummyโs handwriting, Akki (big sister)!
My mom actually snatched the recipe back. It is! And the debate volleyed between them for at least 3 more minutes.
I ate. I said something, casually, through a mouthful of food. Thatโs not Nanaโs handwriting.
Now my mom started to doubt. Ehโฆ!?
My dad, enjoying his lunch, barely listening, finally plucked the controversial paper from itโs neutral position on the table to look it over. This is MY handwriting. My sister mailed me this recipe when we came here… (to Canada, which they say as if it was 40 days, not 40 years, ago) …I copied it from her letter.
My aunt was right. See?!
My dad continuedโฆ I asked her to send her recipes to me then, all the time. See, I wrote the date on the back. April 1973! Oh I remember I was working nights in those days, this was when we lived in the apartmentโฆ โฆand was floating into a story about how hard he worked and how bad the winters were.
My aunt went back to eating but I’d stoppedโkind of bummed. I mean, so wait, this was NOT Nanaโs recipe?
My mom ate but had not moved on. She waited for my dad to finish and then commented on the paper, not his story. Well you had nice handwriting. Back then.
My aunt won, my dad lost. This is still a great family recipe so I come out ahead, regardless.
Never mind the arguments that ensued in the kitchen over the definition of puddings versus custards versus flans, whether to heat the milk or add it coldโmy dad never heated it, my grandmother always did. We figured out when you would and wouldnโt, to our satisfaction: it was decided that if youโre using condensed milk as you often would โback homeโ, you wouldnโt heat it. Controversy aside, this is an utterly simple recipe, maybe a hybrid of my aunt in Sri Lankaโs recipe and my grandmotherโs method. It was delicious and provided comfort. No one argued while enjoying a late afternoon dessert.
This story and the recipe that goes with it are in “EGGS”, issue 022 of Le Sauce Magazine. Get it at: lesauce.com/app