Hile, the creme caramel at Trattoria Da Cesare al Casaletto can be satisfactory in Rome (so appropriate that an Arab princess, as soon as provided to fly Leonardo, the proprietor, to her palace to train her chef the way to make it, however, he couldn’t go), the one I experience most is at our neighborhood pizzeria, Remo. It’s now not so much about the creme caramel (probably packet blend), but approximately the whys and wherefores. It’s most probable Friday night and the end of a long week; we don’t have to cook, the noise of the location feels celebratory, and the seats are so tight that youngsters can’t wriggle around. We’ve already eaten fried salt cod and rice supplì with mozzarella hearts, a pizza every with an aspect order of puntarelle (green leaf salad with a loud, anchovy-and-garlic dressing), under the influence of alcohol, at least a liter of purple wine and now locate ourselves in want of pudding.
While some humans don’t like to share puddings or scorn the ones with only a spoonful, I admire both – you get to flavor a bit of everything or satisfy that need for a complete stop of sweetness. The options at Remo are half a dozen: fruit (pineapple frills in wintry weather, watermelon fanatics in summertime), tubs of ice cream, jam brownies, or three matters that wobble: crema Catalana, pannacotta, and creme caramel. All three are barely grainy, slightly too company, and, to be sincere, only somewhat exact. They are in no way inverted in the middle of the plate; however, now and again, they are precisely what you want.
Other times, I do need something better than “barely desirable.” I may want to keep in mind who defined the satisfactory pannacotta as “silky and untroubled,” so I may like to thank them because the soft creme caramel has to have the same traits. Or, as my antique neighbor Vera would say, “When sinking your spoon into the cream, it must be like kicking your footwear off or sinking lower back into a comfy chair.”
