I get lost…a lot. Before GPS in smartphones my questionable sense of direction led me down dead-end streets, cul-de-sacs, and roundabouts more times than Guy Fieri has driven through “Flavor Town.” Okay, even with GPS I still occasionally manage to take the wrong exit or miss a crucial turn. You can imagine, then, what it was like for me when I set off on a solo adventure to my native Hong Kong 15 years ago. Armed with simply a guidebook and map in hand (who even uses those these days?) I traversed Kowloon and Hong Kong Island in search of those places that invoked the warm but fuzzy memories of my 7 year old self (the last time I’d traveled there with my mom).

I’m ashamed to admit my Cantonese is crap. What I speak, or what my mother deems those excruciatingly lame utterances coming out of my mouth, is bad Chinglish. While a great number of people do speak some English in Hong Kong, not surprisingly, a majority exclusively speak Cantonese (and these days also Mandarin). Asking for directions and fully understanding them was painful. Needless to say, I spent the first few days of that trip wandering around lost, before my friend Valerie, who possessed a much better sense of direction, joined me

In my everyday life pre-GPS this would’ve driven me nuts. But I’d embarked on this particular journey with very few expectations, other than eat some amazing food–and that I certainly did. Walking down unfamiliar streets didn’t really bother me–well maybe doubling back on the same streets multiple times did annoyed me a little, especially with aching feet–so long as I found something yummy to taste along the way. Such was the case one afternoon as I strayed down a narrow street in the Sheung Wan district. I came across a woman hawking fresh, warm flakey egg custard tarts out of a small glass-enclosed food cart. I could smell them 20 feet away and as I approached her, the warm air emanating from the glass enclosure enveloped me as the sweet vanilla scent drifted up my nostrils. She smiled and said “one dollar for two” before I even opened my mouth. Sold! She shoved the tarts into a bakery bag as I fumbled for my wallet.

I could feel the fatty goodness of the warm pastries seeping thh the thin paper bag as I strolled down the street. “Okay, I can eat one now and save the other for later when I get back to the hotel,” I told myself. I reached into the bag, pulled out a delicately flakey tart and took a bite. “Melts in your mouth” doesn’t even begin to describe what was happening as my teeth broke through the many exquisitely crispy yet tender layers of pastry crust and sank through the velvety barely set custard. Before I knew it, I was reaching for the second tart. Determined to savor the moment this time, I tried to slow down, tried to commit the sensations to my grown-up memory.

It’s funny how much of what we remember about our childhood favorites is colored in the patina of circumstance and ritual. As a child, my favorite part of the dim sum experience was waiting for that point in the meal when we were finally allowed to order our desserts off the sweets cart. Egg custard tarts were always on top of the list, but not because they were my ultimate favorite although I liked them a lot–I think my grandfather favored them more–but because it was popular by consensus. Who doesn’t like an expertly made sweet flakey custard tart? Also, my personal favorite black sesame rolls and coconut cream jelly, were not always readily available. Custard tarts, on the other hand, was a sure thing. After all, I was a kid (still am) with a massive sweet tooth and dessert was sacred–my reward for sitting through the meal.

The vivid memory of those mind-blowing custard tarts off a random Hong Kong food cart was permanently etched into my consciousness, so much so that on my second trip to Hong Kong a few years later–which was more like a 2-day layover–I was on a mission to recapture that gastronomic high. I knew the chances of finding that same custard tart vendor was nil given our time constraints, but I knew my cousins and I stood a pretty good chance of at least finding a bakery that produced custard tarts of the same caliber.

My cousins, Jason and Jonathan, and I were on a 2-week tour of China. Hong Kong was our one break from the rest of the tour group, where we could ditch the tourist traps and mediocre meal options, and head straight for the good stuff, which began with a light mid-morning meal at a well-known old school dim sum house in the bustling Central district. Given that none of us spoke Cantonese with any fluency, much less read Chinese, that experience fell somewhat short of our lofty expectations. Fortunately for us, we hit pay dirt at a nondescript bakery a mere 3 blocks up. There, through the store window, we glimpsed a pastry case full of flakey custard tarts! I might’ve actually elbowed the guys as I dashed through the front door. Our eyes widened with glee as we perused the variety of custard tarts on display. Yes, there were several different types of custard all encased in the same glorious pastry. Did we need to get 3 kinds of tarts for each of us? No. But we had just spent the last week eating dubious regional Chinese food and like culinary prisoners on furlough with only one free day in paradise our hoarding instincts kicked in. If it weren’t for the fact that we’d just eaten, we would’ve torn into that bakery box immediately.

My sense memory of those custards tarts aren’t as profound, though they were absolutely delectable. I think that might have something to do with the fact that, being the 3 piglets that we were, we somehow managed to cram 7 meals into one day. The custard tarts, while excellent, was merely a brief interlude. What I do remember of about them was their uniform appearance and the custard’s consistent velvety texture. The pastry crust was both tender and flakey, though it did not have the same expansive layering as the ones from the lone hawker cart. Needless to say those custard tarts are the gold standard by which I judge all other custard tarts–even the stand-out ones from Golden Gate Bakery in SF Chinatown.

I’ve been ambivalent about attempting to recreate custard tarts at home because there’s a part of me that knows I won’t be able to come close to the memory of those now almost mythic custard tarts from Hong Kong. Nevertheless, I am on a culinary journey of sorts and tackling Chinese custard tarts is just another challenge. My goal is to figure out those essential elements that make up a great custard tart–to crack the code so to speak–so I can recreate the best version I can of this Chinese favorite.

Full disclosure, prior to these recent deep dives into the mysteries of the Chinese custard tart, I did make a few unsuccessful, feeble attempts at home years ago, which I attribute mainly to having shoddy equipment–otherwise known as the standard subpar apartment electric oven. Yeah, I know I’m being a snob, but nothing compares to a good gas oven, especially at home. And, nothing is more frustrating than watching your custard tarts, despite diligent rotation, alternately over-bake and under-bake on the same sheet pan. That said, I began this baking project with only slight trepidation given the reliability of my gas oven. Hey at least that’s one less thing to worry about.

Custard tart recipes fall into 2 basic categories–those that utilize a sweet buttery short crust and those that rely on a more puff pastry-like flakey crust that’s derivative of the traditional Pasteis de Nata or Portuguese Custard Tart. The latter requires making 2 separate components or doughs, then folding or laminating them together to form lots of layers.

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In other words, much more work. The question was, was it really worth it? Or could I achieve the same type of layering without going through the trouble of making my own puff pastry?

Well, first off I made a batch of custard tarts using the sweet tart crust method just to see how they’d bake up–even though my personal preference is for the flakier crust. As expected, while they were tasty, they didn’t not hit the right notes for me.

Next I took a slightly different approach and made my go-to pate brisee dough which was similar in technique but with far less sugar, producing a crust that was substantially flakier. To create even more buttery layers, I rolled the dough out, with minimal flour, in between sheets of parchment paper and folded it the same way I would to laminate puff dough. I then rolled the chilled and rested dough out to just shy of 1/8″ thickness and cut out 3 1/2″ rounds to fit into my 2 3/8″ fluted tart molds (which were actually mini brioche molds).

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I filled the chilled tart shells about 1/8″ shy of the rim and baked them accordingly–15 mins. at 400F degrees, then another 12-14 mins. at 350F degrees. A couple of things happened. Because the molds were deeper it look a little longer for the custard to set evenly, so when as they cooled a distinctive well formed in the middle. Additionally, I overfilled the shells a little so I had few overflow, which not only made unmolding them a challenge but caused some to have a few soggy spots on the sides. Not bad, but not great.

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I should mention that the custard filling for all my test batches was pretty much the same throughout the process. Only variation from the original recipe I used was the amount of sugar, which I increased by about 1 tablespoon–from 6 T. to 7 T. Most of the Hong Kong-style recipes called for whole eggs and evaporated milk (apparently there’s a debate regarding the right brand of evaporated milk, though I just used Carnation). Then it’s simply a matter of dissolving the sugar in hot water (I also added a tiny pinch of sea salt), whisking together the eggs, evaporated milk, and vanilla, then whisking in the sugar water and straining the mixture twice, skimming off any foam if necessary.

Next, I decided to give the Chinese puff pastry a go, just for comparison. I watched a couple of YouTube instructional videos and devoted the extra time to fold the “oil dough” (basically a butter and flour paste) into the “water’ dough” 4 times. Again I rolled, filled and baked accordingly, taking care to fill the shells a tad less. The custard still puffed slightly and came close to overflow but stopped short. The result was a nicely baked shell that was flakey but disappointingly lackluster in flavor.

On the third go around, I went back to the pate brisee (still had some leftover dough) and rolled it out maybe a millimeter thicker than before (which turned out to be unnecessary). This time I left a good 1/4″ space between the filing and rim, hoping it would be enough to prevent overflow. It was for the most part (I should’ve gone 1/3″). The crust baked up a golden brown and the filling a velvety texture. The pastry was buttery, flavorful and, most importantly, flakey. Does it come close to the custard tart of my dreams? Well, honestly no. It is the best version of custard tart I can come up with? You’d have to judge for yourself, though so far the consensus has been yes, I pretty much nailed it. That’s not to say I won’t continue to chase my custard tart dreams. I just need to stock up on butter, eggs, and evaporated milk.

Pate Brisee Dough (adapted from the Flour cookbook)

• 1 3/4 cups All-Purpose Flour
• 1 Tbsp. Sugar
• 1 tsp. Kosher Salt
• 8 oz. Unsalted Butter, cut into 1/2″ pieces and chilled
• 2 Egg Yolks
• 3 Tbsp. Whole Milk
• 1/2 tsp. Vanilla Extract

1. Combine the dry ingredients in a food processor, pulsing a few times blend.  Add the butter pieces and pulse at 2-3 second intervals until the butter has been broken down into the size of popcorn kernels. 
2. Whisk together the wet ingredients then add it to the dry mixture.  Continue pulsing until dough comes together in large clumps.
3. Dump the entire mass onto a sheet of plastic wrap and shape it into a flat disk by folding the plastic wrap up over the dough and pushing down on it with the palm of your hands. 
4. Chill the dough for at least an hour before using. Roll the dough out about 1/8″ thickness. Cut the dough out into approximately 3″ diameter rounds.
5. Press the rounds into lightly greased 2 1/4″ fluted tart molds, ideally no more than 7/8″ deep (in other words, not deep mini brioche molds).
6. Chill the lined tart molds on a flat sheet pan while you make the custard filling.

Custard Filling

Yield: enough for about 18 tarts *

• 7 T. sugar
• pinch of sea salt
• 3/4 c. hot water
• 5 large eggs
• 1/2 c. evaporated milk
• 1 t. vanilla extract

1. Whisk together sugar, salt and hot water to dissolve.
2. Whisk together eggs, evaporated milk, and vanilla.
3. Whisk sugar water into the egg mixture until smooth, then strain twice. Skim off any remaining foam from the surface.
4. Transfer the filling into a liquid measuring cup or a small pitcher.
5. Fill the chilled tart shells about 70% full.
6. Bake tarts in a preheated 400F degree oven for 15 mins., then reduce the heat to 350F degrees, carefully rotate the sheet pan and continue baking for another 10 mins.
7. Turn off the oven, leave the oven door slightly ajar and let the tarts rest for another 4-5 mins. Custard should be just barely set (should jiggle like jello).
8. Cool baked tarts on a rack for at least 10 mins. before unmolding.

*yield will depend on the size of your tart molds