As I’m writing this, there’s a brand-new jar of confiture de lait staring at me from across the table. Maybe I should wait, but this “milk jam” has already been in the house twenty-nine hours and I’m curious. I’ve already seen this mystery from afar, many times, but I’ve never tried it. This jar showed up yesterday- an unknown visitor ringing at the doorstep. Looking at the jar, I think of caramel- same color, maybe same texture? I’m turning it around in my hands. Ingredients: whole fresh milk and sugar.
I’m opening the lid now- why not? Too curious to wait for the bread, I’m tasting the brown goo falling off the spoon- with my fingers, of course. Hmmm, not bad, not bad at all- sweet, and creamy. Not the same smooth texture as caramel, almost mealy- not in an old-rotten-apple kind of way, but in a this-actually-works kind of way. It’s sweet, very sweet. Maybe too sweet?
Now I’m eyeing the boring old peanut butter (the organic, no sugar kind that, at 5:00 on a Tuesday afternoon, just doesn’t cut it alone). Don’t know if this is allowed, but I’m spreading the purée de cacahuete over a torn-off piece of the baguette de campagne I just bought on my way home from work. And now a dab of this blissful “jam” (that isn’t jam at all). Wow! That’s good- might never stop.
I’m reading the jam jar now- goes on top of yogurt, bread, ice cream… This is a new find.
I’m looking on the Internet now…oh, I see. It’s like dulce de leche– it all makes sense.