Salted Caramel Crème Brûlée

Thanksgiving itself was loud and full and chaotic in all the best ways. Noah drove down from Portland and arrived two hours early, which he has not done since he was a teenager who wanted to help cook. He is twenty-five now and actually helpful in a kitchen — he took over the basting rotation without being asked and handled the gravy with minimal supervision. I told him his knife skills have improved and he looked more pleased about that than he has about any other compliment I've given him in years.

Mason set the bar for the dessert contribution this year: he made a caramelized pear tarte tatin that he brought in its copper pan and revealed at the dessert course with a flair I can only describe as theatrical. Everyone at the table audibly appreciated it. He is becoming a serious cook. The television appearance helped him understand something about cooking in public, I think — the way you have to commit to a dish, trust it, not apologize for your choices. His cooking has gotten more confident since then.

The children were their own drama. Clara managed the younger two with the benevolent authority of a nearly-five-year-old who takes her responsibilities seriously. Henry ate an amount of cranberry sauce that would have alarmed me with my own children but which Mia received with equanimity. Eleanor fell asleep on Gary's chest after approximately twelve minutes at the table and missed the entire dinner, which means she will hear about this for the rest of her life and it will be worth it.

I said a grace before the meal that went long because I had too much to say. The house. The year. The grandchildren. Gary's sabbatical and what it gave him. Noah's work. Ethan and Mia's December baby. The garden now sleeping under its mulch, the wood stacked under the eave, the jars of tomato sauce in the pantry that represent a summer's worth of attention. The people around this table. Twenty-eight years of cooking for this family, still going.

The tarte tatin was excellent. I told Mason so and I meant it without reserve. The good thing about watching your children build lives is that sometimes those lives contain copper tarte tatin pans and the skill to use them.

Mason’s tarte tatin reminded me, as I was doing the dishes later that night, that a great dessert doesn’t just end a meal — it punctuates it. There’s something about caramel in particular, the patience it requires, the way it rewards commitment, that felt exactly right for a year as full as this one has been. I’ve been making this salted caramel crème brûlée for big gatherings ever since I realized it can be prepared a full day ahead, which means I get to be at the table with everyone else when it matters — and then bring out the torch for the finale.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes, plus 4 hours chilling | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup whole milk
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup good-quality caramel sauce, plus more for drizzling
5 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt, plus a pinch for finishing
6 tablespoons granulated sugar (for brûlée topping)

Instructions

Prepare the oven and ramekins. Preheat oven to 325°F. Set six 6-ounce ramekins in a large, deep roasting pan. Bring a kettle of water to a boil.
Warm the cream. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine the heavy cream and whole milk. Heat until just steaming and small bubbles appear around the edges — do not boil. Remove from heat and whisk in the caramel sauce until fully combined.
Whisk the yolks. In a large bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and 1/3 cup granulated sugar until the mixture is pale and slightly thickened, about 2 minutes.
Temper the eggs. Slowly pour the warm cream mixture into the yolk mixture in a thin, steady stream, whisking constantly. Stir in the vanilla extract and 1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt.
Strain and fill. Pour the custard through a fine-mesh sieve into a large measuring cup or pitcher for easy pouring. Divide evenly among the prepared ramekins.
Bake in a water bath. Pour boiling water into the roasting pan until it reaches halfway up the sides of the ramekins. Carefully slide the pan into the oven. Bake 40 to 45 minutes, until the custards are set at the edges but still have a slight jiggle in the center when nudged.
Cool and chill. Remove the ramekins from the water bath and let cool to room temperature on a wire rack, about 30 minutes. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 4 hours, or overnight.
Brûlée before serving. When ready to serve, blot any condensation from the surface of each custard with a paper towel. Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of granulated sugar evenly over each one. Using a kitchen torch, move the flame in slow circles until the sugar melts, bubbles, and forms a deep amber shell. Add a pinch of flaky sea salt on top of each and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Salted Caramel Crème Brûlée — For the Dessert Course That Deserves a Moment