Dulce de Enfamil

it's dessert for babies

Greetings, clowns!

Sometimes, it can be a true burden being the greatest food writer in all of history. After all, when you’re the best, it’s a lonely view from the top. But when you’ve made it as far as I have, sometimes the best thing to do is to go back to basics. And there’s nothing more basic than being a baby.

That’s why today, I’ve challenged myself to innovate with baby food. Formula, specifically.

I was recently looking up how to make dulce de leche, which is a sweet caramelized milk treat popular in Latin America. Many of you have had it by now, but if you haven’t, it’s basically a caramel spread that you can eat on anything sweet, like cakes, cookies, and ice cream. But what’s really cool about this stuff is how you can make it at home.

That’s because there’s a cool trick to it. All you do is simply take a can of sweetened condensed milk, can and all, and stick it in a pot of boiling water for a few hours. That’s it. That process caramelizes the milk and sugar inside the can, and when you’re done, you can simply remove the lid and start spreading that shit on practically anything.

So I thought to myself, as I walked through Walgreens to pick up some diarrhea medication, “Dannis, this is incredible. But how come nobody ever uses this technique on any other types of canned food? What other foods are there that can be caramelized in a can?"

Then I stopped in front of the baby formula and stared at the display case.

One metal can caught my eye, Enfamil infant formula. Looking at the packaging, I noticed that it was milk-based. And then I noticed, in smaller letters, that it was a concentrate. Concentrate is just another word for condensed, right? You can see where this is going.

Today, I’m embarking on a journey to make dulce de Enfamil.

Of course, I would need some expert guidance in how to make dulce de Enfamil.

That’s why I turned to this blog, Preppy Kitchen, run by a white guy named John, whose kids are named Lachlan and George. He’d be the perfect guide to show me how to make a Latin American treat. Apparently he is the expert in this matter because his recipe showed up first when I googled “dulce de leche.”

John instructs you to boil the can anywhere between two and three hours to get a proper finished product. Once it’s boiled, you need to cool it, and you’re done. (Don’t worry, I also cross-referenced Latin-American home cooking recipes, and John isn’t doing us dirty.)

You may be shocked by this fact, but I’ve never actually made dulce de leche.

Perhaps that’s why I assumed the can of formula would instantly explode once it touched the boiling water, but it didn’t, and we all survived. All those fear-fueled tears rolling down my face were a complete waste. I should have collected them to boil pasta in or something.

In order to prevent the can from possibly exploding, however, I had to make sure there was enough water to cover it.

Since the recipes weren’t quite exacting on how long to keep the can simmering, I aimed for a full three hours and went about my night, yelling at the cats, and occasionally checking on the stock pot.

After about two and a half hours, I noticed something.

It was subtle, but something definitely looked off about the cooking situation.

I looked closely at the inside of the stock pot and realized that the can might have been leaking.

There was a thin ring of curdled material on the sides of the stock pot that only grew thicker as the water had evaporated. Apparently, cooking time was clearly over. I let the can cool off on the counter for a few hours and put it in the fridge before I went to bed.

The can still looked fine the next day, no implosion, leaks, or any visible damage.

As a responsible scientist, I made sure to have purchased a second can of baby formula as a control, to see what a normal serving of Enfamil looks like in comparison.

It’s somewhat difficult to tell from this photo, but the cooked can of Enfamil on the left was a darker shade of khaki than the original, unadulterated one on the right.

Now, the can’s label clearly states that the baby formula must be diluted with water before you give it to your baby, but I decided it would only make sense to taste it at cask (can) strength.

As a grown-up, I am approximately the size of 22 babies fused together, so I can handle intense amounts of nutrition. Do you hear me, babies? I’m flexing on you! You’re just babies and I’m a big adult man!!!

I may have momentarily blacked out, sorry. I grabbed a spoon and dipped it into the regular Enfamil first, to give it a try.

Frankly, it’s not terrible. I’d liken it to condensed milk or coffee creamer, with a slight metallic aftertaste that I’m assuming is some form of added vitamins. As far as I understand, most babies seem to enjoy it, but the thing is, babies can’t talk, so the world may never know.

It was now time to try the dulce de Enfamil.

I took a big whiff of the can (heh, I whiffed a can) but the stuff didn’t smell notably different. Then I took a spoonful and slurped it up quickly, which is a somewhat disgusting maneuver I’ve seen wine experts do. They claim that action lets you both smell and taste the wine at the same time, because it somehow draws the scent of the beverage into your nose.

Perhaps since I am a lower-middle-class peasant who knows nothing, this did not enhance my experience as far as I could tell. I will try this the next time I decide to go on a rager with some Franzia, however.

But then, there it was, the tiniest note of a caramel finish. It was subtle, but it was there. I achieved something nobody else had: I had caramelized baby formula.

After trying both versions of formula for herself, Davida was not particularly convinced, so take that how you will. But if you take her side, I’m going to pout at you because I’m a big boy and I can do what I want!!!

Continuing to taste the dulce de Enfamil by itself seemed a little dull, so I decided to pair the baby formula with something called zwieback.

Before I met Davida, I had no idea this stuff even existed. It’s this adorable little bread that’s been twice-baked (in fact, the word zwieback translates to “twice-baked” from German). It’s very mildly sweet, and because of its texture, which is like that of a salad crouton, it’s sometimes used as a teething aid for infants.

Davida used to eat zwieback when she was growing up, so it’s a bit of a comfort snack for her, which is why we have it on hand sometimes. And obviously it only makes sense to serve baby food with more baby food.

I poured the two versions of formula on two separate pieces of zwieback, and let them soak in the baby elixir.

Then I tried both of them.

I swear, hand to God’s sweet chunky ass, the zwieback soaked in the dulce de Enfamil had a slightly maltier flavor to it, since the caramelized sugars amplified the toasted notes of the bread. I was hoping to have some corroboration for you, but at this point, Davida had lost interest and was in the other room being an adult, so I was left in the kitchen alone, eating baby food.

And yes, I see some of you shouting and pointing at your phone screen, while calling me an idiot. There is an obvious difference between condensed sweetened milk and baby formula, and that’s the addition of a copious amount of sugar. This is probably why I didn’t get as much caramel flavor as I’d liked. But basically, the point of baby formula is to help the baby survive. That much sugar all at once would do the opposite, and hell, it still messes a bunch of us adults up real good.

That’s okay. Like I said, it’s a lonely view from the top. When you’re a disruptor like me, sometimes you have to sit in the corner and pout at the fact that nobody else sees your genius. Maybe you can throw a temper tantrum while you’re at it.

But there’ll always be zwieback dipped in dulce de Enfamil to calm you down, and there, there, everything’ll be all right, you pwetty little baby, you.

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Just some housekeeping: Davida and I are headed on vacation to Orlando next week. But if you’ve just signed up for a paid version of the newsletter, you’ll have hundreds of standalone editions to binge while we’re gone.

Okay, everyone, have a fantastic week. As always, I love you all, and see you when we get back, probably with a pair of Mickey Mouse ears on. Provided I don’t get kicked out of Disney World for trying to shove a Dole Whip up my ass.