Custard confessions

lemon custard cake, worst picture ever

I had a Martha moment this weekend and it wasn’t a positive one. I doubted her. I shook my head and furrowed my brow, wondering how I had managed to pick this substandard recipe in her online collection. I had held such high hopes for her Lemon Custard Cakes. But alas, there was a distinct lack of cakiness, and an abundance of soupiness. It was nothing more than lemon custard soup with a fluffy bit floating on top. Yes, a small tasty floaty bit that taunted me, letting me know that this is what the rest of the custard had aspired to. Through gritted teeth I asked Martha how she could have let me down this way.

Mind you, the flavour was perfect, but that’s beside the point, as it really only added salt to the wound. And I was still rather annoyed, even after my boyfriend and I ate the yummy, I mean runny, soup (in record time too). I mean, after all, it’s the principle of the thing, right?

In any case, after a period of basking in disappointment, my belly full of lemon custard soup, I soon moved to a period of reflective self-analysis. Yes, this is normal for me. And I came to a very startling realization.

Oh my, it might have been my fault.

It’s much harder on the self-esteem to blame oneself for one’s culinary failures than it is to blame a recipe, the oven, or a sub standard ingredient. Even though that’s usually what the problem is. But I knew I had to step up to the plate and get real, as they say. After all, this was Martha that I was dealing with. And I’m just Michele.

So, with the utmost determination, I made the recipe again. And this time, I did it Martha’s way. Yes, I hate to admit it, but I had taken some creative (read impatient) license with her recipe. And what I ended up with the second time around was pure lemony heaven.

These are the hard lessons I had to learn.

1. Don’t underestimate the importance of soft white peaks. Droopy, runny lumps are not the same thing. Just because you’re bored of standing over the eggs doesn’t mean you can just stop whenever you want.

2. A batter meant for 6 dainty little custard cups may not cook the same in 3 much larger soup bowls. And don’t be mad at Martha just because you don’t have 6 dainty little custard cups.

3. Just because it’s really brown on the top after only 10 minutes, it doesn’t mean it’s done. When you saw the floaty bit floating you should have figured out that it wasn’t quite ready. You didn’t call it a floaty bit for nothing. The second time around I lowered the oven rack. No misleading early browning.

I was forced to admit that my impatience and my ego had gotten the better of me. And almost won. Almost. But really, that custard was gooood. And Martha? My humble apologies for doubting you.