Portuguese Egg Tart (Pastel de Nata)

Fall is arriving the way fall arrives in Hartford — not with a dramatic announcement but with a slow credential presentation: cooler mornings, earlier sunsets, the particular smell of leaves beginning to dry on the trees before they fall, and the appearance in the grocery stores of the orange and apple displays that signal the seasonal section has been reorganized. I do not miss the summer. I love the fall. I love the harvest, the root vegetables, the permission to cook heavy things again, the soups and stews that the summer heat discourages but the October chill practically demands.

My birthday is in two weeks. Fifty-four. I do not feel fifty-four in the sense of diminishment — I feel fifty-four in the sense of accumulation. Every year adds something rather than taking something away, provided you are paying attention, which I always am. The accumulation this year is Lucas, who is walking and eating tostones and pointing at everything with the joyful authority of a child discovering that the world is full of identifiable objects. The accumulation is the new kitchen, which still gives me pleasure every time I walk into it. The accumulation is the notebook, growing thicker, the knowledge going somewhere permanent.

At the hospital, the fall menu transition has begun. Off goes the agua fresca. On comes the apple cider. The soups shift from cold bisques to warm broths. The cafeteria board becomes autumnal, which the staff received with a combination of relief (it was hot) and nostalgic complaints (I liked the cucumber soup). I told them: the cucumber soup will return. Seasons are cyclical. This is the entire point of seasons.

I am planning the birthday dinner. Pernil — obviously. Arroz con gandules. Tostones. Flan, which I make every week anyway but on birthdays the flan is elevated by intention and the addition of a slightly more caramelized edge on the custard, because birthday flan deserves the extra thirty seconds under heat. Eduardo asked if I wanted to go to a restaurant for my birthday. I looked at him. He looked at me. We had a full conversation with our faces. He said, I will start defrosting the pork.

The flan is already decided — it is non-negotiable, it is birthday law, and I have been making it long enough that the extra thirty seconds of caramelization is muscle memory at this point. But somewhere between menu-planning and the particular mood that a cooler October morning puts me in, I found myself thinking about another egg custard I love: the pastel de nata, that small burnished Portuguese tart with its blistered, slightly bitter top and its impossibly smooth interior. It asks for the same attentiveness as flan — you cannot rush custard — and it rewards that attentiveness in exactly the same way.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 12 tarts

Ingredients

1 sheet puff pastry, thawed if frozen
1 cup whole milk
1/3 cup granulated sugar
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon fine salt
3 large egg yolks
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon, plus more for dusting
Powdered sugar, for serving

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 500°F (260°C). Lightly grease a standard 12-cup muffin tin.
Prepare the pastry shells. Unroll the puff pastry on a lightly floured surface. Roll it slightly thinner, then cut into 12 equal squares or circles. Press each piece gently into a muffin cup, working the pastry up the sides to form a small cup shape. Refrigerate while you make the custard.
Make the custard base. In a small saucepan over medium heat, whisk together the milk, sugar, flour, and salt. Cook, whisking constantly, until the mixture thickens slightly and just begins to steam, about 4–5 minutes. Do not let it boil.
Temper the egg yolks. Remove the pan from heat. In a small bowl, lightly whisk the egg yolks. Slowly ladle a few spoonfuls of the warm milk mixture into the yolks while whisking constantly to temper them, then pour the yolk mixture back into the saucepan. Stir in the vanilla and cinnamon.
Fill the shells. Remove the muffin tin from the refrigerator. Pour the custard evenly into each pastry cup, filling about 3/4 of the way to the top.
Bake. Bake at 500°F for 12–15 minutes, until the custard is set with dark, irregular caramelized spots on top and the pastry edges are golden and crisp. The blistering on top is exactly what you are looking for — do not be alarmed.
Cool and serve. Let the tarts cool in the tin for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Dust lightly with powdered sugar and a pinch of cinnamon before serving. Best enjoyed slightly warm or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Portuguese Egg Tart (Pastel de Nata) — The Custard That Stands In When the Flan Is Already Spoken For