If anyone asks me, “Who makes the best [anything]?” I will always immediately say that mi ma (my mom) does. My mom makes the best milanesa, pozole, frijoles, pulled pork sandwiches, and just about anything. However, the one thing that my mom never fails at making and bringing to any family function is flan. Without fail, someone always asks what she puts in her flan and what she puts in it. My mom always happily tells people what she puts in it, but she told me once that she has never given the full recipe to anyone that asks. It was a sneaky trick, but if I made flan that good for every function and it was my signature dish, I would do the same.
Last fall, there was a multicultural potluck for Oberlin students. Everyone that went was encouraged to make a dish or buy something. I personally think it is very lame when people bring the cups and the plates, even though they were necessary. So, I decided to challenge myself and make my mom’s flan. Obviously, I knew it would never taste the same, I still wanted to try my best. I called my mom and asked her to send me the recipe and a step by step breakdown on how to make it. She buys all her ingredients from Aldi, which was perfect considering the new Aldi that opened nearby Oberlin. I bought all the ingredients I have seen her use when I have helped her in the past.
I was terrified the night before the potluck. I decided to wait until midnight, when I knew the kitchen in Zechiel (Latinx Heritage House) would not be in use. This was my first mistake; it took like 2 hours to cook. I started off by opening up all the liquid ingredients and placing them all into a bowl before mixing them. It took me forever to blend because I was working with the smallest blender ever. It was also so difficult to try and make the best out of the baking trays that are available in Zechiel’s kitchen. I remember calling my mom almost every five minutes to show her my progress and for her to reassure me that it was the right colors, textures, and amounts. I do not know how mothers do it, but mi ma always just knows what I need to hear and what the food needs. Finally, after like 72 phone calls to my mom I placed it in the oven.
Flan is baked in a very specific way and in Spanish it’s called a baño maria. This is when the baking tray with the flan mixture is placed inside another tray filled with water. This process terrified me because I have never seen anyone use this method in Oberlin, and I was imagining the worst possible scenarios in the kitchen (Figure 1).
After the 2 hours passed, I checked on my flan and it looked beautiful. Not as beautiful as el de mi ma, but still beautiful. I flipped the flan over the next morning, and it looked like the most perfect caramel color (Figure 2). At this point, what worried me the most was if I was doing my mom’s flan’s justice. I did not try it until I was at the potluck, which was probably another mistake. I placed it next to everybody’s desserts, and maybe it was not the prettiest one, but I was so happy to bring my mom’s recipe to Oberlin. I immediately cut myself a piece and tried it before anyone else. It was definitely not my mom’s flan, but it was still so delicious. I was a bit nervous because it was not aesthetically pleasing, but after the first 30 minutes I went to check up on my flan and it was gone. I did not get a chance to see who got my flan and their reactions but it made my heart happy that my mom’s flan was all gone. I called my mom, knowing she would pick up, and I was right. She could not believe it either and I thought about all the times I had helped mi ma in the kitchen. That was the missing part to my flan: time spent with my mom.
