The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 3161

Custard or Bain-Marie Cream with Caramel

Creme Bain-Marie au Caramel

Melt half a pound of sugar in a pan with the juice of a lemon; as soon as of a light golden color pour a third part of it into the bottom of a plain timbale mold and leave to cool. Break six whole eggs in a basin, add eight yolks and beat together with half a pound of sugar; dilute with a quart of good milk and a quarter of a gill of orange flower water or vanilla and strain this preparation two or three times through a colander, and pour it into the timbale mold, then poach the cream in a bain-marie in a slack oven for an hour and a quarter; remove and cool off in the bain-marie. When ready detach it from the mold with the blade of a small knife and turn it over on a cold dish; cover with a caramel syrup made with the remainder of the caramel.

For the Modern Kitchen

This is crème caramel in its grand-hotel form: a single large moulded custard rather than individual ramekins, which changes the baking time and the unmoulding more than anything else. The one thing to get right is the oven — a slack oven means low, and a custard pushed past about 175F will curdle and weep no matter how carefully it was strained.

A Little History

Ranhofer published The Epicurean in 1894 after decades running the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York, and the book is essentially a French professional repertory transplanted whole. This is the classic crème renversée au caramel — a baked custard turned out of its mould so the caramel lining becomes the sauce — and it sits in a long numbered run of bain-marie creams, including a coffee version, each a variation on the same base. The bain-marie itself, a water bath named for an alchemical Mary of uncertain identity and generally traced to medieval Latin distilling texts, is what makes egg cookery of this kind possible at all: it caps the temperature the custard can reach. Orange flower water as the first-named flavouring, with vanilla as the alternative, places the recipe firmly in the nineteenth century rather than the twentieth — distilled floral waters were standard pastry flavourings long before vanilla became cheap enough to use by default.