Panna Cotta

The jiggle: The reason for the gelatin is obvious — a perfect panna cotta should have just enough that it seems the cream is barely holding together. It quivers when you touch it. When there's too much gelatin, the custard feels stiff and cheesy. Too little and, well, you've got a puddle on the plate when you unmold it.

Breaking the recipes into pieces, I found ratios of gelatin to dairy ranging from 1/2 teaspoon to almost 3 teaspoons per cup. After a day in the kitchen experimenting with various amounts, I found the best consistency was at the shaky end of the spectrum — 3/4 teaspoon per cup.

The cream: The butterfat takes a little explaining. It's not a calorie thing, but I find too much of it leaves your mouth feeling coated and thick; the ideal panna cotta tastes light and clean.

Fortunately, analyzing butterfat doesn't require sending it off to a lab. You can simply average the percentage of butterfat in the various dairy components. Heavy cream is 36 percent, half-and-half is 12 percent and whole milk is 3.25 percent. Therefore, a recipe that calls for a cup of half-and-half and 2 cups of cream will have a butterfat percentage of 28 percent.

I tested dairy mixes ranging from 34 percent to 18 percent (resisting the urge to completely geek out on this, I did it in 5 percent intervals … if you want to dial it in tighter, you're on your own). Until you get toward the lowest end of that spectrum, the less butterfat the better — though when I tasted the 23 percent next to the 18 percent, I did find that the slightly higher fat content carried the flavor better while still tasting fresh.

The sweetness: Sweetness was relatively easy to figure. I did batches ranging from 1/4 to 1/2 cup sugar, stepping up by the tablespoon. I was looking for a panna cotta that was definitely sweetened but not sweet, if you know what I mean. Again, light and clean. Five tablespoons was perfect.

So, 2 1/2 cups of cream and 1 1/2 cups of whole milk, plus 5 tablespoons of sugar, set with 1 tablespoon of gelatin. I'd cracked the code!

What's really remarkable, though, is that a dish so delicious can be made so quickly and easily. Bring the cream and sugar to a simmer, stir in the gelatin, whisk to room temperature and pour into ramekins. It takes about 20 minutes before chilling.

The only thing easier would be going to a restaurant. But when you buy panna cotta, you've got dessert for a day; when you figure out how to make it, you've got dessert for life.

TRICKS FOR PERFECT PANNA COTTA Recipes are lists of ingredients; technique is what turns good recipes into great dishes. And in the course of all of that panna cotta testing, I found a couple of little tricks that are really important, because there is little more disappointing than thinking you've perfected a recipe only to have it flop.

On two occasions, panna cotta recipes that had previously worked failed. I unmolded the ramekins to find that somehow the mixture had separated into a thin layer of clear gel at the bottom and a stiff custard on top. It's not an uncommon problem.

There are two easy steps to prevent it. First, before you take the pan from the heat, rub a little bit of the cream mixture between your fingers — there shouldn't be any grit from undissolved sugar or gelatin. Then whisk the mixture in an ice bath until it's lukewarm.