Pudding

This recipe evolved quite by accident in the restaurant kitchen on a particularly harried day. The baker had put a pan of blond brownies in the oven, and in the rush had left them in too long. When I looked at them, and then at her, our faces fell—the brownies were burned. But we had to have that dessert. “Don’t worry,” I told her, “I’ll think of something.” I knew I had to act quickly to get the desserts to the table. So I cut the brownies into pieces and carefully trimmed off the burned edges. I crumbled up the good part, sprinkled it with sherry, covered it with chocolate pudding and topped it with fresh whipped cream—and our Chocolate Trifle was born. Today it is one of our most requested desserts. Hope y’all enjoy. Oh, by the way, you really don’t have to go to the trouble of burning the brownies!

My friend Damon Fowler, chef and author, taught me the importance of using freshly grated nutmeg. The difference is remarkable, so please don’t substitute ground nutmeg from a jar. Grate the nutmeg on the fine side of your grater, being careful that you don’t include a little knuckle! Fresh nutmeg can be found right next to the ground nutmeg in your local supermarket.

In our house, where nothing goes to waste, you can bet that bread pudding is a highly esteemed dessert. This is a simple, delicious version (with a new twist that I just discovered). It is great in summer with any fresh berries—and frozen berries work fine the rest of the year. I like to use blueberries because they remain whole—especially small wild ones. I also like raspberries and other soft berries, precisely because they melt into the pudding and leave bursts of flavor where they baked. So you can experiment: firm strawberries would be nice, cut up, as would other semifirm fruits, like ripe pears. I would avoid very juicy fruits, though. I like white breads for pudding, but, as with the Peach Lasagna (following recipe), it should be a hearty homemade or country white bread, not sourdough. I don’t like sour breads in general, and certainly not for desserts. But when we were testing recipes in Vermont, we had only day-old bread that was a bit more sour than I liked, and that prompted me to develop a new twist on the recipe. There was a jug of maple syrup on the kitchen counter at my editor Judith’s house, and I decided to balance the sourness by drizzling the bread with syrup and toasting it in the oven to sweeten and caramelize it lightly. As I am sure you will agree when you taste the pudding, it’s worth using the maple syrup whether your bread is sour or not.

It was on a visit to La Mozza that I discovered this simple but elegant dessert, budino alla salvia—sweet sage pudding. Fresh sage has always been one of my favorite herbs. We grow it in the garden all summer, and pot the plants and keep them in the sunroom in winter. I use salvia leaves in all kinds of savory dishes, from pasta sauces to roasts—and now I use them in desserts too. To keep its assertive flavor in check, I infuse the custard with sage, then strain out the leaves. Serve the pudding chilled—plain, or topped with a dollop of whipped cream or crème fraîche, or with a biscotto or cookie (such as Fregolotta, page 122).

This is probably one of the most well-known Mexican desserts, even though it is believed to have Middle Eastern/Persian origins and is found throughout the world in many variations, such as coconut, almond, and orange. The heavy cream gives it a rich mouthfeel and reminds me of the raw milk found in Mexico. This dish is adapted from an old recipe I found in a cookbook without any date or author.

PAT Gina would happily eat cashew brittle any time of day or night. She calls it “a crunch of heaven.” When I’m in the doghouse, this is usually what gets me back in my bed and off the sofa. So, fellows, if you are like me and never know the right gift to purchase for your wife or girlfriend, make this fantastic dessert (featuring a smooth and buttery pudding to dip the brittle into) and she will forget all about whatever mistake you may have made (or wrongheaded gift you may have bought). GINA This butterscotch-pudding recipe is very special to me. Growing up, I was always fidgety (especially in church). So my mom and my great-great-grandmother (Mama Callie) would always give me butterscotch candies to keep me still. To this day, I go all soft and quiet when I taste its buttery, rich, and smooth flavor. But the cashew brittle has a story to go with it, too. When I was pregnant with Shelbi, brittle was the only quick fix for my cravings. Pat would buy it by the pound; I’m sure people thought he was crazy, but at the time he didn’t know how to make it. We finally made it on the show as a tribute to that crazy time in our lives. Combining these two favorite flavors, with so much meaning and good memories behind them, is my version of sweet, salty, smooth, and crunchy heaven. This is as good as Christmas morning—new-shoes-and-a-handbag happy.

Spoon bread is like a cross between grits and cornbread, with a lovely, dense, puddinglike texture set off by cornmeal’s fine grain. I don’t need an excuse to bring sweet potatoes into the mix—I’ve been known to add them to just about everything—but in this case they reinforce the silky texture of the spoon bread in addition to adding their characteristic orange color and mild, sweet flavor.

This is a fluffy eggless rice pudding scented with sherry and almonds. My mom usually serves it with fresh raspberries, which is the perfect choice when they’re in season. But I like it all year round, so I like to make a sauce with dried cherries, which have a similar sweet-tart quality. It is lovely served in elegant stemmed glasses with the sauce spooned over the top. My mom still makes this pudding every year for my birthday. Thanks, Mom!

I created this soufflé for a magazine article about Thanksgiving in New Orleans. I wanted a side dish that was seasonal and distinctly southern—and this filled the bill. Imagine how nice it would look on your table in your prettiest casserole or soufflé dish. This soufflé dresses up a simple roast chicken or pork loin. But I’d encourage you to try it with Roasted Duckling with Orange-Cane Syrup Sauce (p. 262).

This recipe, which is as easy as one, two, three, is great for that late-night sweet tooth because it’s so quick to make. We tried it out with every kind of nondairy milk possible and they all worked, but this was our favorite.

A great do-ahead dessert for a large crowd. Although I make it most often with fresh peaches, the recipe works with just about any fruit-nut combo you can dream up, including fresh berries and hazelnuts, fresh pears and almonds, bananas and pecans, or even craisins or raisins and pecans.

There’s really nothing quite like tapioca pudding to take me back to childhood, when I would eat those plastic cups of the store-bought variety. Of course, homemade is so much better, and it’s really not difficult to make. It just requires a little patience and some stirring. I like to make a few cups at a time, eat one (or, okay, two or three). Then, before things get really out of control, I portion the rest into 1/2-cup ramekins and store them in the freezer. To take it over the top, I sprinkle just a touch of one of my favorite aromatic spices, cardamom, on top, along with some sugar, and torch the top to get that crackly brûléed effect.

My friend Damon Fowler, chef and author, taught me the importance of using freshly grated nutmeg. The difference is remarkable, so please don’t substitute ground nutmeg from ajar. Grate the nutmeg on the fine side of your grater, being careful that you don’t include a little knuckle! Fresh nutmeg can be found right next to the ground nutmeg in your local supermarket.

This rich dish is wonderful at a fall brunch. The tawny color of the squash, when it is baked in a casserole, adds a nice touch to a buffet table. This may be prepared ahead of time and rewarmed with good results by heating it for 20 to 30 minutes in a preheated 350°F oven.

I usually advise people not to compare carob to chocolate because the two tastes are quite distinct. But in this rich pudding, you may find that you like carob even better than chocolate. Originally from the Mediterranean, carob was brought to the United States by Spanish missionaries. It grows in the drier parts of the west, including Arizona and California, so it doesn’t have to make the same long, fuel-guzzling trip to us that its tropical nemesis chocolate does.

Undeniably creamy and indulgent, these are the French version of pudding cups. Pots de crème are traditionally baked and served in individual ceramic pots with lids, how they got their name. Much to my consternation, Mama buys Cool Whip instead of using freshly whipped cream. She recycles the tubs for food storage and other uses. I think a pet hamster was once gently laid to rest in a Cool Whip coffin. Whipping real cream is easy, and my mother’s opinion aside, it really does taste better. The key is that everything must be well chilled: the heavy cream in the refrigerator, and the mixer beaters and bowl in the freezer until cold to the touch. I prefer not to add sugar or vanilla to the cream, as I think the dessert is quite often sweet enough and sweetened whipped cream is overpowering.

What other dessert brings out the kid in us more than chocolate pudding? If you want a pudding that is slightly more grown-up, substitute bittersweet chocolate for the semisweet. The taste of the chocolate is heightened with the addition of vanilla extract. Use only pure vanilla extract, not imitation. To make your own vanilla extract, halve six vanilla beans lengthwise to reveal their seeds. Steep the beans in four cups of best-quality vodka in a dark place at room temperature for one month. After steeping, you’ll have a flavorful extract.

The name of this dessert or breakfast treat comes from colonial settlers in New England who substituted corn, or “Indian meal,” to make English pudding when wheat flour was in short supply. The pudding is sublime when served with clotted cream, whipped cream, or vanilla ice cream.