
It’s really much cheaper to make your own condensed milk. And you can make quantities of it at one time with almost no effort. But it does require time and patience. It’s something to stir while doing other kitchen projects. Like an intensive cooking or cupboard-cleaning session, or a morning of phone calls you’ve been putting off. Actually, the coolest thing would be to have a magical spoon that stirs all by itself. Lacking that, just old-fashioned patience and time will do.
Why would I want to make my own condensed milk? Well, here in Israel, all condensed and evaporated milk is imported in squeezable tubes and cans. Living in a dairy-rich country, it seems wrong to buy a milk product that’s been shipped across the planet. That’s Noble Reason Number One.
Then, while these products have kashrut, it’s not a strong hechsher that strict kosher-keepers accept. If I’m baking, it’s for guests as well as family, and I want all ingredients to be acceptable to everyone. That’s Noble Reason Number Two.
And Number Three, for some reason I had too much milk taking up room in the fridge and I wanted to use it up before it got old and I had to (shudder) pour it down the drain.
As a teenager living in Brazil, I used to hang out in the kitchen with the servants and watch them cooking. The two maids, Rose and Lydia, would let me get in their way among the pots and pans, answering my questions with good humor and occasionally poking sly fun at my ignorance. All our food was made from scratch, from the bread crumbs that coated shnitzels, to the daily rice and black beans, to Floating Island for dessert. (For some reason, those ladies loved to make Floating Island, although I don’t believe they ever ate any of it themselves.) They made lots of condensed milk for us back then.
My mother has often said that she misses her two girls, for girls they were when they worked in our home – rather, young women whose own watchful mothers accompanied them to the interview when my Dad hired them. We have often wondered if dainty-stepping Rose married her Portuguese policeman, whom she didn’t like but who was terribly in love with her and wrote letters (first read by her parents) offering his honorable hand and heart. Lydia, who was a little older and not so pretty, graduated from housemaid to cook in our home. Although only semi-literate, she could make out a recipe from Dona Benta’s cookbook and proved to have a light, sure hand with that savory Brazilian fare. I hope she married a nice man and has long been surrounded by grandchildren of her own.
That was long ago.
But condensed milk. All it takes it to put a liter or two or three in a big, wide pan and let it simmer without boiling till it’s reduced by at least half, if not more. Wide is the operative word here; you want lots of space for the water in the milk to evaporate. Once the milk steams, you must keep stirring and removing the skin that forms on top of the hot milk, or it will prevent evaporation. And scrape the bottom every so often to keep stray bits of fat that drop down from scorching. That’s where patience comes in.
It may take as little as half an hour, or up to several hours, depending on the quantity of milk you’re reducing. Get it down to at least half, if not a quarter of the original volume. The milk will turn tan to beige over the process and start giving up that sweet, condensed-milk odor. When it’s been reduced, allow it to cool somewhat, and strain if you want it free of floating skin particles and the inevitable slightly scorched bits. Refrigerate and use as needed. Condensed milk freezes well. If you’re fond of recipes that require it, freeze by the cupful or 2-cupfuls.
Brazilians reserve the skinny layers and when there’s enough, make biscoitos de nata from it – little milk-fat cookies. They are rare nuggets because they’re really a by-product of making condensed milk at home. I have Dona Benta’s recipe but confess that I didn’t make them this time. I put the cupful in the fridge and promptly forgot about it till it did get too old for use. I am ashamed.

But next time I make condensed milk, I’ll make you the biscoitos. Meantime, here’s the recipe, with a photo borrowed from jmarconi via Flickr, whose images of northeastern Brazil gave me a shock of recognition and nostalgia.

Milk Cookies (Biscoitos de Nata)
Source: Dona Benta Comer Bem, Companhia Editora Nacional, 1969 edition.
Ingredients:
2 cups of skimmed milk solids
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 teaspoon salt
Flour, as needed
Method:
Put the milk solids, butter and salt in a bowl. Add just enough flour to make a tender dough. Either roll out on a floured surface and cut out circles, or shape as in the photo above by dropping spoonfulls onto a baking tray lined with parchment and pressing a fork on each to make indentations. Bake at 375° F – 190° C for 12 minutes or until golden.
Another thing you can do with excess milk is make dulce de leche. The granular texture of the home-made product doesn’t resemble the slick commercial stuff, which is usually smoothed down with glycerin. But it’s the real, original milk jam. Use it to fill pastry, make ice cream, sweeten coffee as they do in Cuba, or spread on toast. Or just serve it on a little plate, with a coffee spoon. Like any other jam, it needs added sugar.
Dulce de Leche
Ingredients:
For each liter of milk, 250 grams – 1 cup of sugar and 1 teaspoon vanilla essence or lemon zest.
Method:
In a large, wide pan, simmer the milk and sugar together over low heat, stirring often. Cook till the milk has reduced to a semi-solid mass and you can see the bottom of the pan when you stir. Add vanilla or lemon zest just before removing from the fire.

Photo of dulce de leche by Fabiana of the delicious Brazilian blog, Figos & Funghis.