[March, 1935]
I took a long journey away from human tangles.
I breathed space and order.
—Anaïs Nin, diaries 1934-1939
In this garden of forking paths, I make my way back to the start. I put the original manuscript in the ground, I kept it safe, I was not ready, there was much work to be done. But buried beneath it all those pages still shone, for even the strongest roots must seek a source of water to survive. I may have stopped writing precipitously, causing the contortion, so that when I went back, the words had twisted with the passage of time but were not harmed by my youthful hand. The act of reclaiming was not witnessed by anyone except the earth, and the last of the figs that wait silently on the tree; their shrivelled bodies spilling out secrets—I was here, I saw you take.
And is it the fruit or the leaf that you reach for first, and of which holds the most consequence, or promise?
I consider the leaves a delicacy—nothing at all to do with the rife nature in which they can be found, but rather, the feeling that they lend a dessert. The leaves remain redolent of the erotic musk of the forbidden fruit, though perhaps as a recollection, tasting more like sweet coconut and vanilla, than anything else. I sometimes get this sense of brown sugar within, like there’s a caramelisation under their veined surfaces that’s just waiting to be released. They should be toasted to access their true aroma, and will grow fragrant and faded with exposure to time and heat, sullenly curling up like the fingers of a closed fist, when done. Infused into custard, they’re heavenly; warm and grounded, with depth.
For the custard
6 large very-fresh fig leaves, 2 ½ cups (600 ml) whole milk (plus a little more for replenishing), 1 vanilla bean pod (split and seeds scraped), 6 large eggs, 1/3 cup (70 g) granulated sugar, a pinch of salt
For the caramel
¾ cup (150 g) granulated sugar, 2 tablespoons water
First, make the fig leaf infused milk. Pre-heat the oven to 180C (350F), and scatter the leaves over a lined baking sheet. Toast, undisturbed, for 3 to 5 minutes, until fragrant, and faded to an olive-hue. Place into a large saucepan, then pour over the milk. Bring to a simmer over gentle heat, then remove, and leave to steep for half an hour.
Meanwhile, make the caramel as it needs time to cool. Set a standard 20 x 10 x 6 cm (8 x 4 x 2 ½-inch) non-stick aluminum loaf pan into a roasting dish. Alternatively, you can use a specialty flan mold that holds about 5 cups (1.2L). Put the sugar and water into a deep saucepan, stirring to combine. Heat over medium-high, swirling occasionally, until the mixture has transformed into an evenly golden liquid. Immediately pour into the pan or mold, and stand until hard.
Adjust the oven heat to 150C (300F). Bring a kettle of water to the boil.
Strain the milk from the fig leaves. They should be soft and swollen, having absorbed some of the liquid, so wring out any infused juices with your hands—without tearing them. Discard the leaves then re-weigh the milk. You’ll have lost a little during the steep, so add in enough fresh milk to replenish it back to the total 2 ½ cups / 600 ml amount called for. Transfer back to the saucepan, adding in the vanilla seeds. Bring to a simmer.
Next, in a large pouring jug or bowl with a spout, whisk together the eggs, sugar, and salt. When the milk has reached temperature, stream it into the eggs, whisking slowly until combined. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve and into the pan or mold, skimming any pesky froth off the top. Tent with aluminum foil, then pour enough boiling water into the base of the roasting dish until it reaches a little more than halfway up the sides of the pan or mold. Carefully transfer to the oven.
Bake for around 1 ¼ hours, until the custard has just set but still has a slight wobble to it. I check for doneness at the hour mark and adjust accordingly depending on what type of vessel I’m using. Lift out from the water bath, and set the pan or mold onto a wire rack to cool until room temperature, then chill the flan in the refrigerator for at least 8 hours, but preferably, overnight.
When you’re ready to serve, place the pan or mold into a few inches of boiling hot water to melt the caramel top. Run a warm blunt knife around the edges of the custard to help loosen it, then tentatively invert onto a rimmed plate. Let it sit for a moment to release itself, before removing the protective shell. Serve soon after, in extra spoonfuls of caramel.
This should be kept cold, and eaten quickly on the day of making.
