Now that the Flamin’ Hot Cheetos secret is out I can admit to loving other food products that feature the dye Red No. 5 including Crystal Light Raspberry Ice, cupcakes made with raspberry Jell-o powder, marischino cherries and anything labeled as “fruit punch.”

In honor of the complex chemical compounds that make up Red No. 5, I’ve taken the liberty of composing this haiku (yes, I know haikus are supposed to be about nature, shut up) for you.

my tongue is in shock
coated ruby-bright and numb
you are delicious

Oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting good poetry? About real food? Well never fear fair reader, tune in later to learn about my bad-poetry-free adventures with buckwheat groats!

— Jenny Slafkosky

I have a secret to tell you. Don’t tell anyone, please. It’s just between you, me, and the vast vacuum of the Internet.

All right, here goes…I love Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. Love them!

I know, I know, it’s just WRONG. But there you go, now you know.

The most horrifying part about it is that, mostly, I want to eat them for breakfast. It’s odd because the burning fire of powdered cheese doesn’t seem like it should have a place with the morning repertoire. Clearly, copious amounts of Red No. 5 should only be consumed AFTER 12 p.m., but I’m gonna let you in on a little secret (the second one of the day!) there is no greater hour-long morning commute meal than a cup of cheap, sludgy coffee and a big ol’ bag of those cheesy firecrackers. Take that Wheaties!

Flamin’ Hot Cheetos even turn your fingers (and probably your internal organs) a classy shade of burgundy — SO much more refined than the garish, juvenile orange of classic Cheetos. All right, the secret’s out. The next time you see me buying organic creme fraiche and broccolini at Whole Foods you will know my sad, sad, truth — just don’t tell my mother.

– Jenny Slafkosky

I was anxious for the chocolate flan to cool, so I could taste it. I was doing a test-run for a Mexican dinner I was catering in a couple weeks.

Finally, the hour-long cooling period was over, and I dipped a spoon into the ramekin. When I scooped the creamy concoction from the dish, I noticed it was a little more rubbery than usual. When I put the spoon into my mouth, I instantly spit it out.

Are there one or two e’s in blech?

My first thought was that it cooked too fast. I remembered the knife came out too clean after just 30 minutes. In fact, there wasn’t as much custard the dish than usual. Strange…

A couple hours later, the light went on in my head. I realized I left the sugar out of the custard. Oops! That would explain the blech!

But, sometimes, great things come from mistakes.

Eager to make up for the boo boo, the next day I set out to prove that I could, indeed, cook. This time I wouldn’t forget the sugar. When I tested the flan while it was cooling, I knew I had stumbled on to the perfect combination of chocolate, milk, egg, sugar and cinnamon. That night, after the ramekins had been refrigerated for four hours, I ate my first one. It was scrumptious. A few hours later, I devoured another.

The next day, I took the chocolate flan to work, eager to hear people’s comments. The foodies in the ANG Living section know good food. Sometimes, I’m not quite sure what I have when I ask for their opinions, but this time I knew they’d love it.

In fact, the food editor asked for the recipe, as did another editor. Another co-worker said she would pay for it — exactly what a burgeoning chef wants to hear.

One of my editors asked me what my secret was. I told her it was the cinnamon. No, wait, it’s the chocolate. No, actually, it’s the vanilla. Or is it the caramelized sugar? The truth is, it’s all of those things combined into one decadent dessert. — Doug Mead

Chocolate Flan
From Doug Mead, owner of Awesome Salsa & Guacamole Co.

5 cups whole milk (you can substitute with low-fat milk, but it will not be as creamy or tasty. Half-and-half, on the other hand, has too much cream)
2 cinnamon sticks, preferably Mexican canela
1 cup granulated sugar (for the flan)
3 ounces dark chocolate (you can use Mexican chocolate, but if you do, omit the cinnamon sticks because it’s already infused.)
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup granulated sugar (for the caramelized sugar)
4 eggs, at room temperature
2 cups of hot water for water bath (you’ll need a pan big enough to fit 12 ramekins in or a pie pan)

In a heavy-bottomed saucepan set over medium heat, bring the milk to a slow boil and add the sugar and cinnamon sticks. Be careful not to bring it to a full boil, and do not cover with a lid. Simmer for one hour.

Meanwhile, chop the chocolate into small pieces so that it will melt easily. Drop it into milk and stir in. Stir every 10 minutes or so until the chocolate has been fully incorporated into the milk. At some point, a milk film will appear, but don’t worry about it, because you’re going to remove it later with a strainer.

In the last 10 minutes, add the vanilla, but not before, because it will evaporate with heat. The same goes if you wanted to add a liquor such as raspberry or Godiva (1 tsp). Remove milk from heat and let cool for 15 mnutes.

Preheat oven at 325 degrees.

Add half a cup of sugar to a saute pan and set over medium-high heat. After a few minutes, it will begin to bubble and caramelize. Reduce heat to low. Stir constantly with a wooden spoon. When it is medium brown, pour it into 12 individual ramekins or a pie pan and spread with a spoon. It will instantly harden.

Cleanup tip: Immediately add water to the pan and return it to the heat. In a minute, the hardened product will turn to sugar water, making cleanup easier.

While the milk cools, beat the eggs with a hand-held mixer at medium speed for 3-4 minutes. This will make your custard a little fluffier than if you beat the eggs with a fork.

Pour the milk mixture through a fine-meshed strainer. Add a few tablespoons of the hot milk to the eggs and stir. This will temper the eggs so they don’t curdle. Repeat about three more times, then add the egg mixture to rest of the milk in the pan and stir with a spoon. If you see any curdling, pour the mixture through a clean strainer again.

Pour the mixture into the ramekins or pie pan and set into a large pan for the water bath. Place pan on middle rack of the oven, then add the hot water to the outer pan. The water should not go more than halfway up the sides. Cover the entire pan with foil to eliminte a crust forming on the custard.

Bake for about 40 minutes, or until a knife inserted in the center comes out almost clean. It’s best if a little of the custard sticks to the knife or toothpick, because it’s going to continue to cook in the next 10 minutes. If it comes out too clean, it cooked too long. If that is the case, omit the next step.

The cooking time is determined by the depth of the custard. I’ve found that about 2 inches is optimum. Thinner than that, and the custard cooks too quickly. Thicker than that is OK, but plan for a longer cooking time.

Remove the pan from the oven, but keep the flan in the hot water for 10 more minutes to help it set, then remove it from the water and let cool for one to two hours. When cool, place the flan in the refrigerator for four hours or overnight before serving. It can also be served warm after cooling down for about 30 minutes, but it won’t stay firm during serving.

Before serving, run a knife around the edge to loosen the flan from the pan. If you’re using a ramekin, invert it onto a serving plate and remove. It’s great to watch the syrup ooze over the the flan. If you’re using a pie pan or casserole dish, place a platter or cookie sheet over the dish and invert quickly and let your guests ooh and ahh.

In the back of my mind, there’s always a question of whether or not that hard caramel will actually soften into a syrup and remain that way through cooling and refrigeration, but in the dozens of flans I’ve made, it always happens.

Magic, science, whatever. It’s just cool to watch. Each and every time.

Serves about 10-12.

As a complete grilling novice, I was terrified when I recently had to make pork back ribs for a friend who

1. Is a rib master and
2. Uses charcoal.

Thank God for my slow cooker, which I used to prepare the meat for my new gas grill.
After about eight hours on low in a bath of water, celery, onion, peppercorns and garlic, the four pounds of ribs had an ugly color but were so tender they were practically melting off the bone.
I coated them with store-bought bbq sauce (Bullseye Hickory Smoked) that had simmered on the stove with a glob of grape jelly and a few seasonings, then plopped them on the grill.
My rib master friend hovered around nervously, clearly uncomfortable that he wasn’t at the helm of the fire. I gave him the duty of flipping them over while I got the rest of the dinner ready.
After about 15 minutes, they looked and smelled like real ribs. And the taste: Juicy. Delicious. There was nary a leftover in sight. Whew!
– Kari Hulac

I keep trying to care about this funny little spoof of a book, “The North Beach Diet,” but I just don’t. I like the idea of it. I like the title and it’s fun to read a paragraph or two about exactly how I can gain 20 to 40 pounds a week. But two paragraphs is about all the book is worth. It’s kind of like a one-line joke that’s been strung out for page after page after page. It doesn’t work. I think I’ll pass the book around, or leave it in a doctor’s office, where people can enjoy the one line and move on. — Jolene Thym

The May issue of Saveur and June issue of Martha Stewart Living seem to be conspiring against me. The goal? To make me gain 50 pounds.

Saveur started it all with a feature on cream teas of Devonshire. Since reading it, I have become obsessed with clotted cream. It’s absolutely decadently - and dangerously - delicious stuff. Like thick, rich, spreadable whipped cream. I’ve had it before, but now I crave it so bad I find myself picking up the magazine several times a day to get a virtual fix.

I can’t get enough of the shots of of flaky scones smothered in freshly clotted cream with the rubiest of handmade strawberry jams glistening on top. It’s only a matter of time before my defenses completely weaken and I find myself at the nearest Andronico’s to get a jar of clotted cream, or two. Or maybe three.

Then along comes Martha’s mag with a feature on hamburgers. There are burgers stuffed with cheese, burgers stuffed with bacon, and tiny mini lamb burgers topped with pineapple salsa — just right for an appetizer — that make me want to have a backyard party RIGHT NOW — if only I had a serviceable back yard. And then there’s the lemongrass pork burger wrapped in crispy lettuce leaves. No bun to obscure the delicious Thai flavors. That one has been haunting me.

A few pages later is a story on strawberries with the requisite tantalizing photos. Even my husband, who doesn’t eat strawberries (crazy, I know) was drooling at the buttery, rich cake studded with juicy red berries. I was intrigued by the Eton Mess, which truely is a mess, albeit a rather yummy one, of whipped cream, crumbled meringue cookies and sweetened strawberries all mixed together.

But the recipe I know I’ll be trying this weekend is the one with the Almond Biscuits with Sweetened Ricotta and Macerated Strawberries. I can’t think of anything better than large, crunchy, flat cookies (if you’ve ever had a British Hob Nob, these cookies look kind of like that) layered with rich, sweet ricotta and syrupy strawberries. I can’t wait.

– Danielle Centoni

It doesn’t matter how many books you read about whatever it is you like to cook, it seems you can learn more by shoving those books aside and getting to work. Last week I did just that with chocolate. Three days straight, I worked with chocolate. I melted it, mixed it, molded it, turned it into cakes and truffles. I even tried to temper it, which was really dicey for someone as inexact as me. I was half-successful, for the record. Two things I learned after hours of play. First, using a plastic squeeze bottle to work with chocolate is brilliant. It saves so much trouble and untold messes, since there are no pastry cones, no messy bags, no transferring of liquid chocolate from one container to the next. The second thing I learned is that there’s almost always a fix for any problem you encounter. Chocolate doesn’t stay in temper? Just color it with edible gold. No one will know. _ Jolene Thym

Who has the napkin?
A few weeks ago, my editors and I dined at a very nice restaurant in San Francisco _ the bill was just shy of $500 for four. Dinner was mostly lovely, but we were more than a little mystified at the disappearance of napkins thoughout the meal. Each time one of us would take leave of the table, upon return we would look over, under and around the table. “Do you have my napkin?” we would ask one another. Late in the game, (think “Who has the button” but not as fun) we learned to spot the napkin, watching as the servers swoopped down on the (apparently offending) cloth, whisking it away - and forgetting to replace it. At least twice we had to request a new napkin. Once we just took one from a nearby table. Should we have taken our napkins with us to the restroom? Or stuffed them into our purses for safe-keeping? - Jolene Thym

The folks most tickled about Food TV chef Mario Batali being in town earlier this month to promote his new book “Molto Italiano” had to be the staff at Eccolo, where the publishers held a media breakfast.

On the menu: tripe and fried eggs, a timballo (savory pastry filled with pork ragu, seasoned carnoli rice, penne pasta, fresh mozzarella and a halved hard-boiled eggs), sweet polenta and Mario’s own recipe for cinnamon-sugar potato doughnuts (to die for dipped in coffee). After tasting everything, Mario said a few words in praise of the staff at the Berkeley restaurant. More than the jaded journalists, the whole Eccolo staff _ from those in the kitchen to the servers _ looked absolutely tickled.

As for his new book, Mario said it was about cooking at home like the Italians do _ with fresh, seasonal ingredients and a sense of adventure. “Not everyone can live in a wonderful city like we do,” he said. In the middle of the country (he called them “red states”), Italian food is still considered exotic cuisine, but by writing this book, he was doing his part to “turn the red states blue.”

The new book is great, it’s true, but tripe for breakfast? That one might take a while to catch on.

_ Elizabeth Jardina

As a fan of the magazine Cooking Light, I’m always raving to my newsroom colleagues about how its dishes don’t taste low-cal. My folder of recipes ripped from the mag is my standard go-to file for healthy-but-tasty weeknight dinners.

However, I have to take issue with the May edition’s cover story “Great cakes!”

I had let my subscription lapse, but when I saw a photo of a yellow sheet cake slathered with creamy chocolate frosting looming large on the cover at the grocery store check-out line, I was happy to shell out $4.50 for a copy.

When I read the frosting ingredients, though, it struck me that, despite calling for fat-free cream cheese, it included 1/4 cup of butter and 3 cups of powdered sugar. I wondered how “healthy” it actually was.

I checked the per-serving stats: 291 calories/8.1 grams of fat. Not bad. But when I checked the cake’s yield to estimate a serving size, I was taken aback: This cake (made in a 13-by-9-inch pan) was supposed to be sliced into 18 pieces! Who the heck do they think we’re feeding? Keebler elves??

What’s worse, the tempting cover photo and a different photo published above the recipe showed the cake cut into 12 more realistic-looking portions, which would have about 436 calories per slice and 12 grams of fat.

Lesson learned: You can’t trick the sugar gods. If something looks too delicious to be good for you, it probably isn’t.

_ Kari Hulac