Vanilla Heavy Cream Custard

Author Notes

I made coconut macaroons yesterday. This recipe is an Ole to their Lena, a Hardy to their Laurel. It’s a pairing recipe in every sense, a frugal sister to egg-white only recipes, and a happy partner for a crumble or a figgy pudding or a slice of chocolate cake. You could eat it with a spoon, a kind of childhood dessert, simple and comforting, and oft overlooked. But I think it’s best as half of a pair. And it’s awfully nice to have a little jar of vanilla custard in the refrigerator when the mood strikes. You’ll find yourself dribbling it on all sorts of things—into a pool over a sugared biscuit, or nested in a trifle between layers of sherry-soaked gènoise and homemade jam. I first had this kind of pourable custard when I was a student at Oxford, with a gooseberry crumble, a doubly happy discovery. I was a visiting student at Keble College, and I had finally learned that if you didn’t get your paws in there to grab the family style platters of the night’s offerings, you might sit the entire dinner, quietly and politely, holding up a platter in the hopes that one of the waitstaff would kindly refill it. Alas, you might also walk away hungry. I was even more shy then than I am now, so I left more than once without a single morsel crossing my lips. (Thank goodness for pub grub. ) But on a student budget, I eventually learned to get in there and fight for my supper. Thank goodness I got my act together before they served the gooseberry crumble with a pourable, old-fashioned custard like this one. Mine is less gummy than the version served in the Keble dining hall. It’s thicker than crème anglaise but not quite a pudding, a dreamy partner for just about anything sweet, and especially so for anything tart (like the rhubarb crumble I've posted here). Since it only takes a few minutes to stir up, make it when you next make something with egg whites and need an Astaire to your Rogers. —ALittleZaftig