A note about mangoes: Fresh, ripe mangoes are a gift, tender, juicy, sweet and perfumy. Even in New Hampshire, pretty much every supermarket will have fresh mangoes. Granted they might not be ripe, but with a little planning even the most ham-handed cook can buy a hard mango and let it ripen up for a week or so before eating it or cooking with it. But if you find yourself in a bind, mango-riping-wise what then?
Frozen fruit is just about perfect for making purees and syrups. The freezing process breaks down cell walls and lends itself to processing. Is it as good as an actual ripe mango? Not even remotely. Is it better than no mango? Infinitely.
The same goes for canned mangoes. Unlike their frozen brothers, their cell walls are mostly intact, so they won’t dissolve into mush. Diced “champagne mangoes” — the little yellow ones — would beat up a canned mango in the parking lot without breaking a sweat, but for a Mud Season tropical crème brûlée, it will do nicely.
¾ cup (230 g) mango puree
1/3 cup (79 g) sugar
2½ cups (567 g) heavy cream
pinch of salt
1 Tablespoon really good vanilla extract or vanilla paste
7 egg yolks
2 fresh, ripe mangos, diced, or 1 can mango cubes
Preheat your oven to 280ºF.
Separate your eggs, and put the yolks in a large bowl.
Puree mangoes in your blender. If you are using frozen mangoes, let them thaw first.
Whisk the mango puree, sugar, and heavy cream together in a small saucepan. Cook over medium-low heat until it is “scalded” — this means hot, but not yet boiling (about 180ºF, if you’re using a thermometer).
Remove the cream mixture from heat, then, whisking like a crazy person, spoon a couple of tablespoons of the hot cream into the egg yolks. This is called “tempering.” It will slowly bring the yolks up to temperature without cooking them. Keep adding a few tablespoons at a time, whisking constantly; I use a ¼-cup measuring cup for this. When the yolks are incorporated into the cream, whisk in the vanilla.
Put ramekins into a couple of casserole dishes. I like to use the little glass jars that some yogurt comes in. Distribute your diced mango between the ramekins.
Pour your custard mixture into the ramekins — it should fill around 10 of the yogurt jars about three quarters of the way up. Pour hot water into the casserole dishes. This is called a “bain marie” and helps your crème brûlée heat evenly, so it doesn’t crack.
Heat on the middle rack of your oven for 20 to 40 minutes. It will probably take 40, but you should check on it every five minutes or so starting at 20. You want to cook the custard very gently, so it will not pick up much color. Check it by picking up one of the ramekins with a set of tongs and jiggling it. When it doesn’t slosh around but jiggles like Jell-o, it is ready to remove from the oven.
Remove the ramekins from their water bath and let them cool on your counter for half an hour or so, then chill them for at least three hours in the refrigerator.
Brûlée-ing them: Sprinkle sugar on the surface, then caramelize it into a thin candy shell that will crack when you tap it with the back of a spoon. Many cooks like to use a tiny blowtorch to do this. Pastry chefs use an industrial-strength broiler called a “salamander.” I like to use a plain, not-putting-on-airs plumber’s blow torch, the kind with a blue butane bottle that you buy at a hardware store.
Mango and vanilla are natural partners. This custard is cool, delicate and creamy, with little chunks of mango in it. The candy shell is warm and crisp and anything but delicate. It’s fancy, but even though you don’t indulge it very often, you’ve got a fancy side to you that needs to be let out of its cell every once in a while.
Featured photo: Mango Crème Brûlée. Photo by John Fladd.
