Flaó

When I told my friends and family I was moving to Ibiza for a few months, some were surprised - I’d never been much of a party animal. Some presumed I needed a break from London life, London rents, London weather. Some, presumably those with the foresight to understand the advantages of a good friend with a spare room in sunny climes, were excited.

When I told them I wasn’t coming back, there were questions. Beyond assuring my mother that I hadn’t fallen into the evil clutches of drug-fuelled, club-hopping, yacht-owning ‘jet-setters’, it was hard to give concrete answers. Mmm…The vibe… I mumbled on Skype, The people…The language…The food… I’m not sure how convincing my reasoning was at the time but hope that here, on the last point at least, I'll be able to elucidate.

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Just now, the revellers on the south of the island will be starting their night, warm palms wrapped around cold beers, tickets to Pacha, Amnesia, Privilege stowed safely in back-pockets. The hippies to the north are readying themselves to celebrate the full moon, sand-encrusted tribal tattoos dancing in the long sunset of the summer solstice. In the quiet enclaves of the east, other ex-pats are watching the football, boiling the kettle. To the west, well, I haven’t actually been there yet, so I can’t really say. I’m sure they’re having a nice time too. I can say with authority, however, that I am in my kitchen. The centre of my house in a small village at the very centre of the island. Far from the beaches, ports and clubs. And far, very far, from home.

I haven’t baked since I’ve been here, save battalions of bribery cookies to subdue my more restless students. It’s felt strange being in a foreign place, a foreign kitchen - I don’t have a fan oven any more, or my usual tins and trays. Lakeland anti-slip piping bags? Forget about it. But, as the sun sets on my longest day here, it feels like time to make my mark on the countertops. Maybe it’s the voodoo of the strawberry moon making me feel a bit primordial, but I want to daub the fridge door and hob with greasy, floury fingerprints like a Lascaux cave painting. For a while at least, and then I’ll get out the Cillit Bang.

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Flaó

When it comes to pastry in Ibiza, you can't get more traditional than Flaó. The Balearic cousin of the American baked cheesecake or British egg-custard tart, Flaó is a not-quite-sweet, not-quite-savoury staple of fiestas and holy days in parts of Catalan-speaking Spain. Recipes vary throughout the regions, but in Ibiza the locals add a dash of excitement with a kick of aniseed in the crust and a peppermint infused filling. The result is something exotic, almost Middle-Eastern, in flavour but with a reassuringly homey texture. And the best part? This late afternoon sugar fix is best accompanied by booze - a vermut casero (homemade vermouth) or glass of red wine make it an ideal 5.10pm treat.

Ingredients

Crust

250g Plain Flour (+ extra for dusting)

2-3 tsp Aniseeds

30g White Granulated Sugar

4 tbsp Olive Oil

6 tbsp Lard - Vegetarians can substitute vegetable shortening

1 Large Egg

Pinch Salt

Water - add gradually

2 tbsp Liqueur - I'm using Ibicenco Hierbas, a local liqueur with a distinctive herby-aniseedy taste. Sambuca would be a good alternative. Equally, the traditional recipe doesn't call for alcohol at all - but baking without booze is always a missed opportunity in my book.

Filling

4 Large Eggs

250g White Granulated Sugar

Zest of 1 Large Lemon

500g Queso Fresco - This is a kind of soft, creamy cheese - invariably translated as either cottage cheese or fromage frais. In fact, it's not quite either. It's a creamy cow's milk cheese with a trademark salty-sour bite, and a much closer substitute would be 350g Ricotta to 150g Mascarpone.

Topping

Dash of White Granulated Sugar

Decoration

Handful of Fresh Mint Leaves

1 Egg White

White Granulated Sugar - for dipping

Note - Traditionally, a flaó filling would be streaked with shreds of peppermint leaves. This makes for a powerful punch when coupled with the aniseed crust and, for today at least, I've left out this step - preferring a familiar lemon-zest middle and smattering of candied mint leaves (instructions below) to finish.

Instructions

1) First, prepare the mint leaves. These glistening beauties are the crowning jewels on the dish, and though they're easy-peasy, they take a while to dry out. Cover a chopping board with greaseproof paper. Lay out a selection of mint leaves, snipped from the stem. Brush each with a little egg-white. Sprinkle with a liberal amount of sugar. Leave in a warm, dry place for 2-4hrs or until dried out and sparkling.

2) Next, the pastry. Grease a 9 inch tart dish/springform pan/ cake tin, lining the bottom with a full moon of greaseproof if you prefer. Combine the flour, aniseeds, sugar and salt in a bowl. Rub in the lard with your hands until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Stir through the egg, olive oil and liqueur. Bind together with a wooden spoon, adding small dashes of water till it feels stiff but pliable. Drop the dough onto a flour-dusted surface and knead for about 10 minutes. Roll out into a circle a little larger than your intended vessel (not forgetting to account for sides), ensuring the pastry stays about 1/2 inch thick. Then lift and line the dish. Trim off any excess. Prick the bottom and sides of the dough base with a fork, wrap the whole thing in cling and pop it in the freezer for about 15 minutes while you prepare the filling.

3) Preheat your oven to 180C. In a large bowl, whisk together the sugar, lemon zest and eggs. You're not looking for anything exotic - no stiff peaks, or shaving foam, or bath bubbles - nothing more than a smoothly combined mixture. Then whirl in the queso fresco, again aiming for a smooth, custardy goo.

4) Unwrap the chilled pastry and pour in the filling. Place the dish in the centre of your pre-heated oven for 35 minutes. At this point, dust the top with some granulated sugar and place back in the oven for a further 10-25 minutes, or until the cheese top is a dappled golden-brown. There will still be a very light wobble to the filling when you remove it from the oven - but don't panic, a little jiggle never hurt anybody. The centre will continue to set as the flaó cools.

5) Finally, when cool, decorate the top with the candied mint leaves and enjoy. ¡Buen Provecho!