Dulce de Leche

I DISCOVERED IT by accident one day in the grocery store, browsing as usual, looking for new stuff. The picture on the label was all it took: an outstretched spoon offering a large, luscious curve of caramel. The label was on a pint of Haagen-Dazs ice cream bearing a name I'd never heard: Dulce de Leche.

But so what, I reasoned. How could I lose with a favorite brand featuring a favorite sweet?

Sold.

And in the two years since, sold and sold and sold again. To me and millions more. Now the flavor is selling second only to vanilla at Haagen-Dazs, encouraging several imitators, spawning sales of related products and raising curiosity about its sweet origins along the way.

It turns out that dulce de leche is nothing new in major parts of the world. With roots in Spain and branches all over Latin America, "sweet of the milk" is, in fact, a confection craved every bit as much as chocolate is in other quarters. In Argentina, where it's sold in and on all manner of desserts and routinely offered with farmer's cheese for breakfast, dulce de leche has been called a national addiction. It works for m

What could be more compelling than a mix of sugar and whole milk that's slow-cooked, sometimes with vanilla bean, until it's reduced into a golden goo nearly as dense as fudge yet smooth enough to melt like butter on the tongue, leaving long notes of brown sugar, honey and cream.

What's more, it's cheap and simple to make. All you need is a little patience and, depending on how you make it, a strong stirring arm. Called by lots of other names - fangullo, cajeta and manjar blanco, among others - dulce de leche recipes are essentially the same: roughly 4 cups of milk to 1 cup of sugar, combined and cooked over medium-high heat until they thicken, then stirred over low heat for as long as two hours until the mix has turned to roughly the color and consistency of light caramel candy.

Penelope Casas, one of America's leading experts on Spanish cuisine, takes a slightly different tack. After condensing the sweetened milk at a high simmer for about an hour, she transfers it to a clean jar, covers it tightly with foil and puts it in a saucepan filled with water that comes about three-fourths of the way up the jar. The condensed milk is simmered in the jar for about 2 1/2 hours.

In "Delicioso! The Regional Cooking of Spain," Casas says her husband grew up in Madrid and gets a periodic craving for "leche condensada al caramelo." She makes up a batch and sticks it in the fridge so they can dip in for a spoonful every time they pass by.

Casas and others note that people often cheat by buying a can of sweetened condensed milk, taking off the label, submerging the whole, unopened can in a saucepan full of water and low-boiling it for 2 1/2 hours. I tried it, and practically had to put a padlock on the stuff to keep from eating it all in a day. One important caution: The can absolutely must be fully submerged. If it's not, the whole thing could blow, and that would not be good.

However it's cooked, though, the final product is just wonderful, and its applications many. Try it as a spread on sugar cookies, shortbread, cakes or toast, a fancy dip with fresh fruit (strawberries and apples are especially fine), a topping for ice cream or - if you're really asking for it - slipped over fudge brownies. Possibly even more decadent: slathered between crispy thin layers of pastry or meringue. (Those addicted Argentinians make a "cake" of such layers, called alfajor rogel.)

At Pasta & Co., which started carrying jars of dulce de leche two years ago, founder Marcella Rosene suggests thinning the sauce down with a little water, warming it and pouring it over French toast with a sprinkling of toasted walnuts. If you want to dress it up even more, add a splash of bourbon or rum and cut the toast into rounds or pretty shapes. Drizzle a little over sliced bananas, she says, or layer it with sponge cake and whipped cream to create a kind of trifle.

Truth is, dulce de leche is great all on its own, nibbled at between sips of strong coffee or tea. Or, stirred right in.

I feel an addiction calling. Now where'd I put that spare can of condensed milk?

Kathleen Triesch Saul is a Seattle Times food writer. Barry Wong is a Times staff photographer.

Shortcuts

To buy ready-made dulce de leche, check Pasta & Co. stores at various locations, Pacific Food Importers on Sixth Avenue South, La Mercado Latino in the Pike Place Market and other Latin markets such as La Bonita on Rainier Avenue South.

Three Ways to Go

Author Penelope Casas makes a distinction between dulce de leche (sweetened condensed milk, not so reduced by cooking) and caramelized dulce de leche, which is condensed milk cooked longer and thickened. In "Delicioso! the Regional Cooking of Spain," she offers recipes for both, as well as one for using the dulce de leche in a traditional dessert invented by the Claretian monks of Castile. All three are given here.

Dulce de Leche

(Sweet Cream of Milk)

4 cups whole milk

1 cup sugar

In a saucepan, combine the milk and sugar and bring to a boil. Lower the heat to a high simmer and cook, stirring frequently, until thickened to the consistency of condensed milk and slightly darkened in color, about 1 hour.

Leche Condensada al Caramelo

(Caramelized Condensed Milk)

1 1/2 cups dulce de leche

1. Pour the dulce de leche in a jar, cover tightly with foil and place in a saucepan with water that comes 3/4 of the way up the jar.

2. Bring the water to a boil and simmer about 2 1/2 hours, adding more water as necessary. Remove from the water and cool. Store in the refrigerator if not using right away.

Bayas con Crema de Yogurt

3/4 cup plain yogurt

3/4 cup dulce de leche (or canned sweetened condensed milk)

1/4 cup lemon juice

3 cups fresh berries (such as raspberries and blueberries)

6 mint leaves for garnish

In a bowl, lightly whisk together the yogurt, dulce de leche and lemon juice. Chill well. Spoon the mixture into the center of six dessert dishes and arrange the berries around it. Garnish with the mint leaves.