The comfort of pudding

27 Mar

iron kettle of tea

When I was at chef school, a long time ago, we didn’t study puddings, we didn’t make puddings, and we didn’t eat them, not even in the privacy of our own kitchens, they were as we were told, “too homey,” which meant, too working class, unforgivably, thickened with cornstarch, and therefore, too common; dismissed as something that your grandmother used to make.  True enough, my grandmother did make puddings, chocolate and butterscotch, chocolate was my grandfather’s favorite, while I was and still am, a butterscotch girl.  Our puddings came out of a box, and were cooked on the stove, poured into little fruit nappies so that everyone got “skin.”  This eliminated the pudding skin skirmish that would always break out between my grandfather and myself; we both loved it.  With surgeon like precision he would carefully make an incision on the top and pour milk in, while I would use…

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