Okay. So I need to tell you about Dan Tats.
Otherwise known as Chinese egg tarts. Or the thing that made me question everything about my so-called baking skills and also my life choices that led me to willingly attempt a dessert with multiple chilling phases.
Have you ever tried to recreate something from your childhood—or like, from a restaurant that has actual trained pastry chefs—and thought, how hard can it be?
Answer: Dan Tats are that hard.
Backstory: The Egg Tart That Raised Me
So, growing up in the Bay Area, we had this tiny dim sum spot down the street—very unassuming, kinda grimy, absolutely iconic. My mom used to drag me there on Sundays when I was little. She’d order 12 different things I’d pretend not to like until the dessert trolley came rolling in like a snack parade.
And there they were: the Dan Tats.
Golden. Flaky. Custardy. Warm.
They always looked like they were glowing. Like Pixar-glow.
I used to bite into them too fast and burn the roof of my mouth every time—and still, zero regrets. So yeah, they’ve been on my Comfort Food Pedestal since forever.
Fast forward to last week when I thought, I’m gonna make dan tats myself.
Cue ominous background music.
The Recipe Said “Chill the Dough.” I Did Not Chill.
Let’s talk about this pastry. Because it’s not just “make a crust.”
Oh no.
It’s flaky puff pastry but like, extra—the kind that needs lamination. Which is a fancy word for “fold butter into dough like 14 times while questioning everything.”
I watched about six different YouTube videos with titles like “Easy Dan Tats!” (Lies. Absolute lies.)
The dough had to rest. Then fold. Then rest again.
It was like trying to bake something that had trust issues.
At one point, I looked at the dough and whispered, “Please just work. I have no backup dessert.”
It didn’t respond. Rude.
That Filling, Though 😩
Okay, mini rant.
Why does egg custard seem simple until you’re actually standing there with a bowl of warm milk and six cracked eggs, stirring like your future depends on it?
I was aiming for that soft-set, not-too-sweet, silky-smooth custard that barely wobbles when it cools.
What I got…
…was soup.
I messed up the straining part. Like, I knew it needed to be strained to get rid of the chalaza (yes, I Googled that word—it’s the weird stringy bit in the egg) but I only had a pasta strainer.
So yeah, I basically poured my custard through a literal colander and hoped for the best.
It did not work.
The Assembly That Broke Me
I rolled the dough out (finally), cut circles like a professional (lies again), and fit them into my muffin tin (okay, this part was decent).
Then I poured the custard in and immediately spilled half of it down the sides.
One tart straight up capsized in the oven like it hit turbulence.
Another puffed up like a soufflé, then collapsed like my will to continue.
But three—THREE—came out looking kinda gorgeous.
Like, bakery window vibes if you squint and ignore the chaos around them.
First Bite = Redemption Arc
You ever bite into something and just go silent?
I took that first bite of my least-mutant dan tat and instantly had flashbacks of sticky tables at dim sum joints, chopsticks I couldn’t use properly, and my mom rolling her eyes as I grabbed dessert before finishing anything else.
It wasn’t perfect. The shell could’ve been flakier. The custard was slightly firmer than I’d hoped.
But the flavor?
Spot. On.
That little whisper of vanilla and warm egginess hit just right. I may or may not have cried. (Okay I definitely cried. But like, happy cry.)
The Chaos Recap (So You Can Learn From My Mistakes)
Let’s just break this down for any brave souls who wanna try making homemade dan tats:
What Went Wrong:
- Used a pasta strainer instead of a mesh sieve
- Got too ambitious with the dough lamination (read: overworked it)
- Didn’t chill enough between folds because “I was impatient” (aka hangry)
- Overfilled tart shells like an amateur on Bake Off
What Saved Me:
- Used warm milk + sugar to help dissolve everything better
- Added a splash of vanilla even though the recipe didn’t call for it (fight me)
- Played lo-fi hip hop while baking for emotional support
- Didn’t give up after the first mutant tart exploded
Would I Make Them Again?
I mean… probably?
But not on a weeknight. Not when I’m tired. Not when there’s a heat wave and my kitchen turns into a pastry sauna.
But yeah. On a cozy Sunday, with too much time and not enough good sense?
Absolutely.
Because some foods are more than just food.
Dan Tats are a feeling.
They’re nostalgia and softness and a little sweetness when the world feels too sharp.
They’re burnt tongues and buttery messes and the kind of memory that sneaks up on you mid-bite.
So… Should You Make Dan Tats?
If you’re:
- Craving something wildly comforting
- Willing to wrestle with dough
- Have 4 hours and zero emotional attachment to outcome
