Homemade condensed milk + Vietnamese coffee + a recipe from Nigella

One of my favorite ingredients is sweetened condensed milk. It adds a terrific edge to a wide variety of Chinese desserts and beverages. Also, where would an afternoon break starring Vietnamese coffee (see the quick recipe below) be without it?

My main problem is quality. A small can of the regular stuff at a Chinese market isn't at all expensive (about $1.50), but organic condensed milk will set you back around $3.50. And, no matter what you get, it's full of sugar, and I for one can always do with a lot less calories in my food. 

I recently came across a recipe for homemade condensed milk in a French cookbook, but the proportions were so off the mark that I won't even mention the book's name. Let's just say that I went to work and came up with something really lovely.

Not so secret ingredients

To cut back on the glycemic load, I use coconut sugar, which is a lot easier on my metabolism than regular white sugar, and it also lends the condensed milk a gentle tan color that I like. Then, I got my hands on some organic powdered milk from Whole Foods and went to town. Powdered milk is almost always nonfat, which is why there's a healthy dollop of butter in the mix, and I like it with a bit of salt to tame the sweetness and round out the flavors.

The result has a good balance of that heady milkiness I love with a sweet note that doesn't curl my teeth, plus a caramel edge to the color and the flavor. It's great in drinks with boba (black pearl tapioca), dessert soups laced with tiny beads of tapioca, and also as a dip for deep-fried Chinese steamed bread. Feel free to play with this recipe and adjust the sweetness with more or less sugar, or with a sugar substitute (see Tips).

This recipe makes a whole lot - perhaps more than you think you'll need - but you can cut it in half with no problem, except for that you'll be wishing you'd made a whole lot more.

Highly recommended

Another way to enjoy condensed milk in all its glory is in the recipe below by Nigella Lawson that she was gracious enough to allow me to reproduce here. This delicious recipe is featured in her wonderful Nigellissima, and I must urge you to try both the book and this super indulgent recipe for coffee ice cream.

So, here it is au naturel, along with the usual personal variations at the end. I never can leave well enough alone...

Homemade sweetened condensed milk

Zìzhì liànrǔ  自制煉乳

Makes about 4½ cups

2 cups boiling water, plus more as needed

1¾ cups coconut sugar (see Tip)
½ teaspoon sea salt

¼ cup salted butter, cut into small pieces
3 cups organic powdered milk

1. Pour the boiling water into your blender and add the sugar and butter. Blend them together on low to combine.

2. Add the powdered milk in a couple of increments, blending the mixture thoroughly on medium speed each time to combine. Continue to blend on medium to completely dissolve all of the milk granules. (If you blast it on high, a sticky foam will form, which is not bad, but it's just not all that useful.) Drizzle in more hot water if you want this thinner.

3. Pour the condensed milk into a very clean container, cool down completely, cover, and refrigerate. It will thicken up considerably once it has chilled. Use it up within a couple of weeks, but that should not be difficult.

Tips

I like coconut sugar here, but sugar substitutes like "light" sugar (half sugar, half Stevia) can be used, or you can use ½ cup of honey or agave syrup instead of 1 cup of the sugar to give it a richer flavor. 

Coconut sugar thickens the milk up quite a bit, so if you want to use plain sugar or other sugars, start out with only 1 cup of boiling water and add more in small increments until the milk has the consistency you like.

My Vietnamese coffee fix

When you come across a recipe that calls for a 14-ounce can of sweetened condensed milk, do note that this equals the weight of the milk, not volume. So, substitute 1⅓ cups of this luscious homemade goo per can. 

Quick Vietnamese coffee
Makes 1 cup and serves 2

1 cup hot espresso
Sweetened condensed milk

Just stir however much of the condensed milk you like into the hot espresso. Done. Excellent over ice, too.

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Nigella Lawson's one-step no-churn coffee ice cream

Makes 1½ pints

1¼ cups heavy cream

⅔ cup sweetened condensed milk

2 tablespoons instant espresso powder (Medaglia d'Oro is good)

2 tablespoons espresso liqueur (like Kahlúa)

Whisk all the ingredients together until soft peaks form, and you have a gorgeous, caffe-latte-colored airy mixture, and then fill 2 x 1-pint airtight containers, and freeze for 6 hours or overnight. Serve straight from the freezer.

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I have to admit that I am even lazier than this recipe requires, since I don't want to deal with whipping the cream and so just toss everything into my ice cream maker and let it do all the work. 

Here, now, are some variations to have and to hold:

All you need is love... & this

1. Soak ½ cup dried longans (dragon eye fruit) in boiling water until plumped up, and then add them to the ice cream. They go amazingly well with the coffee flavor, and the soaking liquid is delicious as a beverage, too.

2. Fold in a big handful of chopped toasted nuts (think pecans, please) or chopped dark chocolate.

3. Serve this on top of broken buttered toast – my favorite: Toast thin slices of your favorite bread until crispy, spread it with salted butter (the salt is important here), break it up into a bowl, and scoop the ice cream on top. Curl up on the couch and watch your favorite movie. You’re welcome.

Mango pudding for adults

Every decent dim sum teahouse tends to offer little bowls of mango pudding on the dessert menu, but I almost never order it. The problem is, the pale orange stuff generally referred to as “mango pudding” nowadays rarely turns out to be a celebration of one of Mother Nature’s all-time greatest hits. 

I mean, when made correctly this is little more than an inspired combination of dead-ripe mangoes and fresh light cream. So, what you should be reveling in at the end of a dim sum meal or Cantonese banquet should be nothing less than divine, and when you look at the ingredients you'll realize that by all rights mango pudding ought to be awfully hard to mess up. 

Part of the problem is that most restaurants expect to serve this to the kids or to people who just want something on the order of ice cream for dessert. And so, the mango pudding we all get served will be cold, it will be sweet, and it will most likely be made from some mix with canned mangoes added and maybe a maraschino cherry on top, if the place really is trying hard. But that doesn't come near to the required simple perfection of this dish, which will transport devotees like me into a state of shivering ecstasy.

No, for that I have to make a batch of mango pudding by myself. And I’m here to tell you how. And the good news is that it’s not at all that difficult a task, especially when you consider how much gratification is at stake, how short life is, and how few perfectly ripe mangoes we manage to enjoy in various iterations before we shuffle off this mortal coil.

A great mango pudding should be a cool and fragrant bath for the senses. When made correctly, this luscious dessert offers a delicious cosseting for the tongue in between pillowy cubes of fresh, fragrant mangoes.

This is, in short, heaven in a bowl.

A wrinkly ripe Ataulfo (aka Manila) mango

Like just about every other great dessert that I love, mango pudding was not designed with the kiddies in mind. Rather, this can and should be a dish of great sophistication, full of flavor, not too sweet, capable of surprise, and immensely satisfying, especially after a long and filling dinner.

The one really important thing you have to do if you want success is get ahold of some very tasty, perfectly ripe, and not at all fibrous mangoes.

Right now is a good time in the Bay Area for Ataulfo or Manila mangoes, which are very aromatic, creamy, and relatively small. But any good mango will do. Learn to discern the varieties that you like (my other go-to mangoes are Kent and Haden, but that’s not at all a complete list) and keep an eye out for them, because this dessert requires careful planning.

What you have to remember is that you almost never can get perfectly ripe mangoes in the market, as they bruise and squish so easily. Instead, hunt down delicious specimens that show great promise (I tend to lug home a whole case of the fruit in greedy anticipation of meals to come) and let them ripen away in the kitchen. When they start to smell fabulous and the skins are a bit wrinkled, give the stem end the very gentlest of squeezes to confirm that the mangoes are ready to be celebrated in style.

Mango pudding was probably descended from India’s mango phirni and was possibly introduced to Guangzhou (Canton) by the British, who had lots of fingers in a whole lot of colonial pies. Nevertheless, this has managed to become inarguably Chinese over the past hundred-plus years.

And yet, in spite of this illustrious history, I really couldn’t leave well enough alone, now, could I?

Diced mangoes

So, you get your half-and-half here instead of condensed or evaporated milk. You have a touch of sweetener instead of lots of sugar. You have way more mango in there than probably is legal in many states. And… I’ve slipped in some rum. You of course don’t need to include it if you’re serving this to children or other teetotalers. But it’s great with this little extra dash of fun.

By the way, this is a fantastic dessert to serve after a fancy dinner at home because it can be made well ahead of time. All you need to do is add the garnishes and serve.

Mango pudding chez Huang

Huángjiā māngguŏ bùdīng 黃家芒果布丁

Guangdong cuisine

Serves 4

Pudding:

1 packet | 6 g unflavored gelatin

¼ cup | 60 ml cool water

Around 1½ pounds | 750 g ripe mangoes, which would be about 3 Manilas or Ataulfos (see headnote)

1 cup | 240 ml half-and-half

¼ cup | 60 ml mango rum, passion fruit rum, or dark rum, or you may add agave syrup or sugar to taste

To serve:

¼ cup | 60 ml half-and-half

Mint sprigs

Easy but delicious

1. In a medium work bowl, sprinkle the gelatin over the cool water and let it soften while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Peel and pit the mangoes. Puree enough of the mangoes in a blender or food processor to give you approximately 1½ cups | 360 ml. Cut the rest of the mangoes into small (½ inch | 1 cm) cubes.

3. Pour the half-and-half into a 1 quart | 1 liter heatproof measuring cup. Microwave the half-and-half for a minute, stir, and then microwave again in short bursts until the liquid is very hot but not boiling over. Stir the softened gelatin into the hot liquid and swish things around gently with a small whisk until the gelatin is dissolved. Then, stir in the mango puree and either the rum or the agave syrup.

4. Divide the pudding among 4 (1 cup | 240 ml) dessert bowls and chill for about an hour, by which time the pudding will have thickened a bit. Reserve a couple tablespoons of the cubed mango for garnish, if you wish, and then divide the rest among the bowls, stir very gently to mix in the fruit, and refrigerate the pudding for at least 2 more hours and up to 3 days. Serve chilled with a small puddle of half-and-half on top, as well as a couple of mango cubes and a small mint sprig stuck into the edge to snazz things up.

Fig leaf ice cream chez Huang

I’ve always been fascinated by two things in this recipe: the startlingly seductive flavor of fig leaves (which is Italian) and the use of cornstarch (which is Chinese, as well as from other parts of the world too, if we’re being honest).

Ok, three things: This can be a totally vegan ice cream and still be incredibly delicious.

Cornstarch here acts like egg yolks usually do in an ice cream: it makes the texture smoother, it miniaturizes the ice crystals, and it provides a satisfyingly creamy texture. 

My husband grew up on a series of military compounds in Taiwan, as his father was a colonel in the air force. J.H. has always had a pronounced sweet tooth, just like his father, and so ice cream of sorts was a more or less regular treat when he was a kid. 

The thing is, you couldn’t find ice cream in a store, and no one had ice cream trucks or, of course, ice cream makers, but what they did have was stores that would freeze your ice cream. You just had to provide the mix.

My husband remembers riding on a bicycle with his father and carrying two large tins filled with whatever Mom had whipped up. It sometimes was a mixture of powdered dry milk (a gift of the Americans then stationed on the island) boiled up with cornstarch and sugar to make a simple ice cream base, very similar to what we have here today. At other times soymilk or fruit juice took the place of milk, but cornstarch was always involved because that’s what gave the frozen dessert heft and texture. 

We're talking about amazing fragrance

Sometimes it was nothing more than sugar water cooked with cornstarch when the cupboards were empty. But with four little kids always craving something cold and sweet hanging around the house, his mother really couldn’t go wrong, no matter what she made. 

Freezing the ice cream was another thing altogether. It depended upon pure brawn and lots of experience. The liquid was poured into large pans set over ice (and probably salt, like an old-fashioned ice cream maker), and then this was stirred constantly with big spatulas until it froze up. Then the ice cream was packed back into the tins and rushed home by bicycle to feed the hungry hordes.

I have to point out that I have no idea why people don’t use cornstarch in their ice creams. Take one taste and you’ll agree. This is like silk, and it is less heavy, so you can eat more. Yay.

I’ve been entranced with the idea of fig leaves in ice cream for decades, ever since I first read about it in an old cookbook. I mean, fig leaves under a hot sun smell amazing. There are notes of vanilla, coconut, even nuts in there. You can toast them first, if you like, to get a (duh) toastier flavor, but it’s not necessary. 

I was visiting my friend Cynthia in Santa Rosa yesterday, and she shared some of her Brown Turkish figs topped with Humboldt Fog cheese, which pretty much sent me over the moon. And then I stepped out into her yard, checked out the tree, and went gaga over their bounty. 

Brown Turkish fig leaves

I took some cuttings, which I hope will eventually turn into little trees of my own. But what happened - my story does have a point, I promise - was that I trimmed off the leaves and left them on the kitchen counter. And it was like I had opened a spice drawer... their aromas became more insistent and seductive the longer they dried. And so I had to do something wonderful with them, and of course that involved dessert.

The milk and the sweetener in this recipe are open to interpretation. Today I used cashew milk and nut cream to emphasize the lightness of this figgy aroma and also to play off of its inherent nuttiness. Dairy works perfectly, as does pretty much anything reasonable. 

For the sugar I like agave syrup, again because it has a lighter flavor than honey, but also doesn’t make my mouth sour like sugar tends to do, and I do love the slight caramel tone that it gives the ice cream. I’ve toned down the sweetness, naturally, but you can amp it up. 

Add toasted coconut or nuts, if you like, or sprinkle the ice cream with something like reduced balsamic vinegar, saba, or even melted fig jam. Serve it with fresh or broiled or grilled figs. The possibilities are endless, really. Just be sure to do this before the first cold winds turn the fig leaves yellow. And get yourself a friend with a fig tree or two.

You can even make this vegan!

Fig leaf ice cream chez Huang

Huángjiā wúhuāguŏyè bīngqílín 黃家無花果葉冰淇淋

Taiwan Military Families cuisine crossed with Italian traditions

Makes about 1 quart | 1 liter

8 fresh or dried fig leaves, washed and stems removed

2 cups | 500 ml milk of any kind (dairy, nut, or coconut)

3 heaping tablespoons | 30 g cornstarch

2 cups | 500 ml cream of any kind (dairy, nut, or coconut)

Good pinch of sea salt

½ cup | 125 ml agave syrup, or other sweetener to taste

1. Place the fig leaves in a heavy saucepan and add the milk. Bring the milk almost to a boil over medium heat. When bubbles form along the edge, remove the pan from the heat and cover it for at least 15 minutes. Taste the milk, and if you want a stronger flavor, let the leaves steep longer. Strain out the leaves and discard them.

2. Put the cornstarch in a pitcher or bowl and slowly stir in the cream with a whisk so that you don’t have any lumps. Whisk in the infused milk, salt, and agave syrup into the cream, and then return this to the pan. 

Heat the leaves in your milk

3. Set the pan over medium heat and stir the bottom constantly with a whisk to prevent lumps from forming and the bottom from burning. When the mixture is almost ready to boil, it will have thickened up and have the texture of sour cream. Taste and adjust the seasoning with more sugar or salt or whatever else you want at this point.

4. Pour the thickened mixture through a sieve into a heatproof bowl or pitcher and let it cool down completely, and then refrigerate until cold. It will form a skin on top, but that’s all right – this will disappear when it’s churned.

5. Freeze the mixture in an ice cream maker. Remove it to a freezer-safe container and freeze it for a day or two to develop its flavor. Serve with whatever sounds good.