You can view the original recipe online at Epicurious. I’ve made some changes to the recipe and I’m logging them here so I remember for the next time I need to make it.

Cheese Flan Ingredients:

• 1 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup water
• 2 1/2 cups skim milk
• 1 (3-inch) cinnamon stick
• 1 (14-ounces) can sweetened condensed milk
• 8 ounces cream cheese, softened
• 5 large eggs
• 1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/8 teaspoon salt

Equipment: 8 (7- to 8-ounce) ramekins

Make caramel: Heat sugar and water in a small heavy saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Cook, without stirring, brushing down sugar crystals from side of pan using a pastry brush dipped in cold water and swirling pan occasionally so caramel browns evenly, until dark amber. Immediately pour into ramekins and swirl so caramel coats bottom of each and partway up side, then put in a roasting pan.

Make flan: Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle.

Put milk with cinnamon stick in a large plastic bowl and cook in the microwave for one minute at a time allowing it to cool for one minute for a total of 10 mins (5mins cooking and 5 mins cooling). This can be done while making the carmel. Remove cinnamon.

Meanwhile, blend condensed milk and cream cheese in a blender until smooth. Add eggs, vanilla, and salt and blend until smooth. Gently whisk it into the large bowl of warm milk.

Divide among ramekins, then add enough boiling water to pan to reach halfway up sides of ramekins. Be careful not to spill the water into the ramekins. Cover pan loosely with a sheet of foil and bake until custards are just set (they will still wobble slightly in center when tapped), 45 to 55 minutes.

Remove ramekins from water bath and let stand at least 15 minutes (flan will continue to set). Just before serving (warm or at room temperature), run a thin knife around flans to loosen, then invert onto plates.

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I’m not sad, but the tears are streaming down my face. I cry out in anguish and I suddenly feel guilty for never crying for my grandmother like this. Never crying for Carol like this. Never crying for grandpa like this.

I’m not crying out in pain, although there is plenty. My head is exploding with dots and colors. Every breath hurts, so I stop taking in air until my lungs overrule my head, making me breathe again. The nausea comes in waves and I run to the bathroom. Only dry heaves and then it’s gone.

Michael is making me sit up and move my head. He makes me lift my arms. He holds up a picture on his phone. “What is it?” I answer, “The mice.” He shows me another. “A penguin.” He swipes the screen and shows me another. “Another penguin. A Linux penguin.” I can’t remember his name, but I don’t tell Mike because he’ll worry even more that this might be a stroke instead of a migraine. He hands me a wet washcloth, which soothes me. He hands me an ice pack, which usually soothes me, but tonight it’s too cold. Far too cold. He tries to pet my arms and back, but the sensation of touch sets off a wave of pain. I push him away and then I feel guilty for pushing him away. And then I cry some more.

All the animals are trying to comfort me, but the soft fur and acupuncture therapy from Maggie is too much stimulation. They are all exiled from the room, but the closed door confuses me and I worry about what’s on the other side. Then another wave of pain and tears.

I will die from this someday. Someday there will be a headache that’s not just a headache. It will be my brain finally killing my body by self-destructing in a pop of blood. Just like my grandmother. Just like my great aunt. There will be a circuit blown in my brain and it will kill me. It will hurt far more than this migraine and I won’t be able to form the words to say goodbye.

Sometimes caffeine helps, so Mike brings me a fresh Coke Zero from the fridge. It fizzles and pops with carbonation. He urges me to drink it and I bring it to my lips, but I can’t even take a sip. The nausea finally overtakes me and I vomit all that was inside: the two blue pills taken too late, the glass of wine that probably set this migraine off, the Navajo taco from the festival and the two glasses of beer that I drank instead of water. I sit on the edge of the bathtub inspecting the issue. A few kernels of corn float to the top of the mess and I regret everything I’ve eaten in the last few hours. I won’t be able to eat chili again for years without remembering this pain.

The next time I tell you I’m lost, make me take two blue pills immediately, even if I’m a little tipsy. I’m NEVER lost, so if I feel lost, there is a migraine just around the corner.

The Utah Arts Festival was fun, by the way. We bought a lot of art and I only got lost once…