Dulce De Leche

Foods of Childhood
Breakfast: Caramelized Condensed Milk

This series revisits Mum's old-fashioned home cooking, while attempting to capture the unique whimsy of her recipes.

When I think of home, I think of Mum.  She is at the top of my list when it comes to heroes. She nurtures and creates joy. She has the cure for all hurts that come along the way. Best of all, she cooks the tastiest food of all time. Every.Single.Day. 

Starting with breakfast.

Just picture a heap of airy, slightly-sweet and hot pandesal bread smothered with dulce de leche - that dreamy caramel-like nectar of life.

It isn't like it's a recipe that Mum's great grandmother smuggled over from some foreign country on a scrap of paper stuffed in her cleavage, but its sweet and heady fragrance has always been for us the best part of waking up.

Mmm... can you smell it? 

In the kitchen, Mum is presiding over the Liberty Condensada can of sweetened milk simmering on the stove.

With the magic words, Almusal! Breakfast! we drag ourselves into chairs around the table amidst a commotion and the strange hubbub of voices, rising in pitch.

I hold one of the fist-sized rolls up to my nose and breathe in its scent theatrically. The first bite tastes warm in my mouth. The salty crust of the bread, slightly crunchy with a fine coat of crumbs, is dense and chewy with the dulce. 

The flavor explodes in my mouth, rich and intensely sweet. As it dissolves, I let it sit on top of my tongue. I relish the taste, eating as slowly as possible.

It is said that every time you smile, a very tiny bit of the smile stays on the face. As you get older the face starts to show all the tiny bits of all the smiles and you look like you're smiling all the time, even when you're just thinking about what's for breakfast.

RECIPE

1. Start with a 14-ounce can of Liberty condensed milk or whatever is on sale at Cherry's grocery.

2. Peel the label off the can, place in a pot, and cover with one to two inches of water. Bring to a very gentle boil, then reduce the heat to low.

3. Simmer for two to three-and-a-half hours, depending on the depth of golden coloring desired. If the brothers cannot wait, which has always been the case, take the can out already.

Madre de Dios! Mother of God! Oops, too late now.

4. Don't open the can while it's still hot. Let it cool completely before opening, or there will be a devil of a mess.

5. Soothe the burnt finger with Purico lard. Lather the spread on the bread. Give the spilt sweet to Tisoy (my dog whom you may remember as the subject of a September 2017 entry). When Mum is not looking, slip in, besides, a whole pandesal to him.

Will serve a family of nine and Tisoy.