Why film director Almodóvar’s Flans Are Hopelessly Overcooked—And How to Avoid the Same Mistake
Flan is a simple word that, in one (chic) monosyllable, evokes so much. It encapsulates a Spanish childhood, a taste of home, a mother. Flan never goes out of fashion; it’s a staple, omnipresent from school comedores to the classic menú del día, irrespective of region. Outside the home, this slightly bitter (because of the caramel) sweet baked custard is dainty and delicate, never ever served family-style. It’s a fragile creation, held together by the lightest touch of egg albumin and a short prayer. Ignore this fact, add too many eggs, and you’ll end up with a stodgy dessert-the certain death of lively sobremesa at any dinner party. The bain-marie, too, is unforgiving. Overcook the flan, and telltale signs appear: tiny bubbles burst along the circular perimeter. Some (male) chefs affectionately call these “granny-style” flans. I think that’s a misnomer; most grandmothers definitely know better.
The film director Pedro Almodóvar has a thing for flan, as do his siblings (and longtime collaborators), Chus and Agustín. Flan appears in many of his films, in Volver (2006), it is desperately overcooked yet dazzling-because, after all, it is made by the impossibly sexy Penélope Cruz. But the pinnacle of cinematic flans, the one you must know, is the gigantic one served alongside a mountain of cocaine in The Cannibalistic Councilor, a 2009 short film that accompanied the DVD release of the film Broken Embraces.
This short exemplifies Almodóvar’s love for the movie-within-a-movie technique, perhaps most famously used in Pain and Glory (2019), his semi-autobiographical film (where flan also plays a minor role). The Cannibalistic Councilor is subversive, a sharp political critique of Spain's right wing. In it, a social affairs councilor-presumably from the Partido Popular-confesses to her unconscious guest, Maribel, her ambition to write a book about sex and desire, but from a right-wing perspective, which she considers would be highly unusual. In the short she also unpacks her desire for eating a man, hence the title. The dialogue is R-rated with paquete, Spanish slang for a certain part of the male anatomy, featuring prominently, toeing the line between scandal and satire.
That giant, stodgy flan earns an unusual distinction: it's one of the few food props ever to receive an official film credit (unlike the red gazpacho in the blender!). The mastermind? Chus Almodóvar, Pedro's enigmatic sister. The Almodóvar clan is famously tight-knit, and Agustín, Pedro’s brother and producer, even thanked Chus at the 2020 Goya Awards (Spain’s Oscars) for crafting the talismán flans that, he claimed, protect them all from evil on their film sets. For the 2020 Oscars for which the director was nominated they built an altar to (you guessed it!) flan. It became a viral sensation and was renamed talisflan.
The actress Carmen Machi, in her gazpacho-colored suit, shines as the councilor, elevating the short with a brilliance that keeps it from feeling facile or juvenile. In lesser hands-both actor and prop-the script might have fallen flat.
In Almodóvar’s meticulously crafted film sets, the overcooked big flan stands out-perhaps as a hidden clue or a deliberate nod to authenticity. Maybe the director’s mother was not a particularly good cook or maybe flan became the family’s emblem. Or a lo mejor the rise of commercial individual flans like Dhul make his giant concoctions even more nostalgic and endearing.
The inimitable Jose Andrés offers us a possible explanation that flans were full of little bubbles because in the 1960’s and 70s Spanish ovens were temperamental and outdated so gaging the temperature was difficult. The too long kiss of a pressure cooker could also be the culprit.
With our modern ovens there is no reason why flans should not be smooth and silky. The recipe should be one you know by heart while resting assured that it's worth it to make individual ones. I own a set of 8 stainless steel moulds like these from Alambique in Madrid that never fail me. When it comes to ingredients Spanish flans use UHT milk (by far the most popular milk in Spain since there is not that much grass for cows), also the egg yolks have a stronger color (use eggs from corn-fed chickens). UHT flans have a slightly nuttier caramel flavor but will taste less fresh due to this heat processing where the milk is scalded to 135–150°C (275–300°F) for a few seconds.
And now, insert drumroll, let me introduce my favorite flan recipe—the one I learned at Telva magazine’s cooking school, an outlet run by the tradwives of the 90s, who taught a generation of young madrileñas like me how to cook. Even my Dad, who could not differentiate cucumbers from courgettes, was indoctrinated into the “feminine arts” by the ladies at Telva. Sadly, La Escuela de Cocina de Telva closed its doors in 2023, but the magazine lives on, a bastion of the intersection between money and aristocracy.
Traditional Caramel Flan
Serves/Makes 6
Ingredients
For caramelising the moulds
75g caster sugar
40g water
For the flan:
500g whole-milk (UHT if you are stickler for authenticity)
2 egg yolks
3 eggs
175g caster sugar
Prepare an ice bath to stop the caramel. Put the water in a small stainless steel pan with the sugar and bring to a boil. Do not stir.
Sit the moulds in a deep baking tray. When the sugar becomes light brown, wait for the color to turn a little bit darker. Stop the caramelising by putting the bottom of the pot in the ice bath (just the bottom!). Work quickly to coat all the moulds (I never said this would be easy).
Preheat the oven to 180 degrees.
As soon as the milk starts to bubble, take it off the heat unless you want sticky boiled milk all over your stove. In a bowl, whisk the egg yolks and whole eggs together with the sugar. Incorporate the milk little by little. Strain through a small mesh strainer into a jug. Fill each mould with the egg/custard mixture.
Boil a full kettle. Place the baking tray in the oven. Carefully fill the baking tray with water until it reaches halfway up the sides of the moulds. This is called a bain marie. Close the oven and bake for 15 minutes or until just set it might be less. Very carefully take the baking tray out of the oven, take out the moulds and leave them to cool down. Put the moulds in the refrigerator ready to unmould just before serving. I dip them in slightly hot water to do this and release with a palette knife.
Enjoy!
Chus’ Overcooked Flan
Ingredients
For caramelising the moulds
75g sugar
40g water
For the flan:
500g whole-milk (UHT if you are stickler for authenticity)
2 egg yolks
3 eggs
175g sugar
Prepare an ice bath to stop the caramel. Put the water in a small stainless steel pan with the sugar and bring to a boil. Do not stir.
Lay the molds in a baking tray. When the sugar becomes light brown wait for the color to turn a little bit darker. Stop the caramelising by putting the botton of pot in the ice bath (just the bottom!). Work quickly to coat all the molds. It will coat around 6.
Pre-heat the oven to 180-200 degrees.
Bring the milk to a boil and put aside. Whisk the egg yolks and eggs with the sugar. Incorporate the milk little by little. Strain through a small mesh strainer into a jug. Fill each mould with the mix.
Boil a full kettle. Place the deep baking tray in the oven. Carefully fill the baking tray with water reaching up to half the mould. This is called a bain marie. Close the oven and bake for 15 25 minutes or until just set. Very carefully take the baking tray out of the oven and cool down. Place the mould in the refrigerator and unmould just before serving. I place them in slightly hot water to do this.
Enjoy! If you have not seen it, watch the short and let me know what you think.
¡Me encanta! I look forward to more content and recipes!
Fantastic article! I confess I’ve never tried flan (the texture seemed slightly off-putting), but next time I’m presented with a flan, I will indulge!