Pudding

My grandmother used to throw a fit if I ordered something as simple as fruit salad or soup in a restaurant. “Why pay for that? You can make it at home,” she’d say in a voice that made you feel like a fool if you had the temerity to disagree. “Order something else!” Anyone who met my grandmother knew it was best not to cross her. Otherwise, you’d hear about it, repeatedly, for the next three to five years. Minimum. I feel that way about bread pudding. It’s something I want at home, not in a restaurant. My version mingles orange and almond and is a much more refined and luxurious than the usual bread pudding. Enjoy it in the comfort of your own dining room, but pretend you’re eating it in a restaurant, without anyone to harp on you about it. In case any of your guests decides to leave a tip, I’ll gladly accept my 15 percent.

There was an expression—“too good to use”—at a certain well-known restaurant where I used to work. One of the cooks coined the phrase to describe what we, the pastry people, would do: hoard beautiful fruits and berries, buying much more than we could possibly use. We considered the fruits so precious that we’d hold off using them, waiting for something very special or just the right moment. Eventually, though, we’d find ourselves with a glut on our hands and had to scramble to use up our stash before it went bad. If you find yourself in a similar position or if you’re just looking for the great summer dessert loaded with lots of juicy berries, this is it. And if anyone says your summer pudding looks too good to eat, don’t believe them. Just dig right in.

This is a simple, yet totally memorable, way to serve rice pudding as a special dessert. The coconut cream and tropical fruits make a perfect ending to a Latin- or Island-themed menu. You can find sweet brown rice at natural food stores.

Rice pudding is a soothing must-have for many people. The challenge here was figuring out how to create a delicious, healthier version that still had all of that creamy goodness without too much dairy. After a lot of tinkering together with my dessert maven, Wendy, we found that combining coconut milk—which has great nutritional qualities—and regular milk gave us the taste and consistency we were looking for, with a kick of flavor coming from the cardamom and orange. If you want to go completely dairy free, see the variation below.

One of the reasons comfort foods are such a big part of this book is that in times of stress, it’s natural to seek out foods that have never let you down. So it is with tapioca pudding, a staple throughout the world. The cassava root, which is made into tapioca pearls, is rich in carbohydrates and gluten free, making this dessert a good treat for people who want to maintain weight without taxing the digestive system. A little chocolate sweetens the package, making this an ideal dessert to eat by the fireplace. Be sure to use very high-quality chocolate to enhance the yum factor. You can make tapioca without presoaking, but plan on an extra 10 to 20 minutes of cooking time.

Gluten-free bread was made for bread pudding, which is best made with stale bread, because store-bought gluten-free bread is basically stale to begin with (yes, I said it, but you know you’ve always thought it, too!). To make it even staler, I usually cut it into pieces and lay it out on a baking sheet overnight before making this recipe. Humble, homely, but oh so divine!

We will not rest until we have consumed every version of banana pudding the South has to offer. Mama’s recipe is our gold standard, but it takes more time than we like to spend, so we were determined to come up with a faster take. We are proud to say we’ve been very successful, even by Mama’s standards.

For some people in the South, dessert doesn’t count unless it’s one thing and one thing only: this one.

I saw this on the menu at an Italian restaurant, and although I did not order it, I liked the idea of using a little of my own dark maple syrup to lend its flavor to the delicate, creamy custard. So I developed this recipe through trial and error. That’s another advantage of cooking something just for yourself: you’re the guinea pig, and you can work out all the nuances before you make the dish for company. This recipe makes enough for two, so either share it or treat yourself to a second helping later in the week.

I always remember my childhood summers in Vermont as a procession of summer puddings made with raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, or currants as they came along. This old-fashioned dessert couldn’t be simpler to put together, and you can do a single portion in a small cup mold. You can even make Summer Pudding in winter when you may have bought from the local street stand more berries imported from South America than you can eat up.

Every summer, I get my share of the syrup from my maple trees in northern Vermont that my cousin John taps in the spring. I particularly like the dark syrup he produces, and I devise ways to use it in old-fashioned desserts like this one. I also use the tart apples from a Duchess tree that embraces the house. So I consider this dessert a gift of nature, and I hope you’ll find your own good sources for its ingredients.

Sandy’s mom, Margie (aka Marge), has a passion for bread pudding and is a self-proclaimed connoisseur. This is the only bread pudding out of a pile of test recipes that Marge gave her stamp of approval, noting it was the richness of the vanilla custard that won her over. Go ahead and try it. Marge approves!

This is my idea of fall and winter all wrapped up in a pudding dish! I take basic custard and ratchet it up by adding pumpkin and maple syrup. Then to keep it super-sexy, I use challah, which is a rich, buttery, and slightly sweet bread. This isn’t your ordinary, everyday, bread pudding; this bread pudding is more like cake—and I like cake!

To be fair, bread pudding is an extremely delicious dish that was simply tagged with a terrible name and a rather unfortunate look. As a youngster I could hardly stomach the sight of it, all soggy and sad in its bowl, like a sandwich that had fallen into the pool and then been tossed in the blender. Now that I’m older and smarter, I see the beauty of bread pudding. It’s a day-old visionary’s dream that delivers so much texture and spice it’s suddenly not so hard to understand what keeps it shuffling down through the generations. You can use any bread you choose, just make sure it’s something sturdy.

Rice pudding is an old-fashioned dessert and some might consider it dated. I find it a modern comfort. I adore the way chopped dates flavor the creamy sweetened vanilla-infused rice. A drizzle of lemon sauce over the top updates this old-time favorite.

In the scheme of desserts, panna cotta is not only one of the lightest, it’s thankfully also one of the easiest and fastest to prepare. The eggless custard sets with gelatin, but what really matters is the quantity used. If you have a heavy hand, then the result is more like cement Jell-O than melt-in-your-mouth. The infusion of the almonds adds a nutty-creamy flavor that’s satisfying without being cloying. Roasted pears set the whole thing off with a balance of texture and fruitiness.

Panade sounds kind of “chefy” but in truth, the dish, made from crusty bread and lots of cheese, is just a cross between a savory bread pudding and holiday stuffing. When mixed with eggs and cream, the bread softens so it becomes almost soufflé-like, with pillows of puffy goodness infused with chard and caramelized onions. If something can be peasant food and elegant at once, this is it! Pair this as a side with Whole Roasted Chicken with Plumped Raisins, Toasted Pine Nuts, and Arugula (page 142) or serve it with a simple green salad, and you’ve got dinner.

This delicate, wobbling cream is perfumed with the mysterious cherry-almond essence contained in the kernel of the cherry pits—a reward for pitting the cherries.