Let me paint you a picture. It’s Sunday afternoon and I feel as if I am buried in squalor. Dishes to be dealt with, laundry to be handled, notes to be written, bills to be paid. It threatens to engulf me.
That’s where the caramel comes in. Not the tooth-crushing caramel squared in a plastic wrap. Rather, the warm embrace of unctuous caramel. In its best form, caramel caresses every morsel with a voluptuous golden ooze.
This is a craving that hits me every autumn. Caramel is the perfect accompaniment to everything apple. Right now, it embodies our Indian summer. The leaves reflect caramel’s golden hue yet the air outside is still intensely warm not wanting to let go of the last breath of summer. I believe a taste of homemade caramel will give me just the kick I need to get it all done.
We have a fresh batch of apples from the market so I rally the kids to help make a quick apple flaugnarde. I assure you this term did not immediately occur to me until after some research. My original intent was a clafouti, which traditionally is made with cherries. I quickly learn that any other fruit baked in this dish’s signature batter, is called a flaugnarde. It’s all the same to me. We can just as easily call it a glorified pancake. The only improvement I offer is a swirl of caramel sauce, which I think is necessary today.
I’ve always been too timid to attempt caramel. I learn there is nothing to fear. The brilliance of caramel lies in its simplicity. It is surprisingly easy to create at a moment’s notice and requires ingredients I always have at hand. Just melted sugar, butter, a little cream and a sprinkle of fleur de sel.
Caramel does most of the work on its own with minimal interference required. Even in my frazzled state, I can watch a pan as the sugar dissolves into liquid. I can gently swirl the pan, giving it just a nudge.
After the sugar dissolves and burnishes into its namesake hue, I remove from the heat, don my mitts and bravely whisk in pats of butter as it sputters and spews, then a splash of cream.
While the caramel cools, we arrange our apple slices in a pie plate and pour over our batter in which all ingredients require just a quick blitz in the blender. After about 25 minutes, with dramatic flare, our meager batter emerges gloriously puffy and golden.
Wasting no time, we luxuriously spoon the warmed caramel over each slice. The girls add an iridescent luster to it all with a small pinch of fleur de sel. Then we dive in. And swoon.
As a parent, I suppose I should model some discipline and resist my cravings until after I’ve finished my work. But who am I to resist the season’s pull? It was just a small break and the work gets done, as it always does. And it feels nice to fall back and let the spirit of autumn hold us in its grasp for a quick afternoon break.
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