(E) fool's puddin', or, a puddin' fool

M and i have a sort of unofficial agreement when we cook at home. she has very good and well-planned ideas for dinner. she makes menus and lists and i can see things churning up in her head as she pinballs around the kitchen. it’s nice, and it means I reap the rewards close to once a week.

but me, i do dessert. and i do it by basically craving something so badly that i will do whatever it takes (resources be damned) to magic it onto a plate. this kind of magic often requires a certain amount of recklessness, which happily, i have freakin’ tons of. and by recklessness, i also mean impatience. and clumsiness. also some idiocy. i am so lucky.

the proof is in the caramel pudding i made on Friday night. M wound up with some nice, thick, first-attempt-at-pasta linguine, lounging in a good mushroom and tomatoey cream. hot medicine for a 10pm hunger. we ate that first, and quick, and then followed it with dancing and lots of yakking about potential boy pals and missed phone calls and hypotheticals. we swayed, and some people headed for home. last to retire, M and i perched on mismatched chairs and broke the seals on two ramekins of pudding to see what my experiment had wrought.



it wasn't a new recipe. the first time i made it, the result had a too-thick cornstarch quality once it had chilled. the color was deep and the flavor on-track, but I wanted something looser and less like half-dried Elmer’s. glue is very unromantic and never crave-able. my plan was to first, reduce the cornstarch by a few tablespoons and second, add a little extra salt, to make the caramel shine.

my plan was not, however, to accidentally reduce the milk quotient by almost half. what the crap, right? i could blame this blunder on the measuring cup (which wouldn’t hold all of the liquid at once), but that would be unfair, especially knowing that this sort of mishap is bound to reoccur. and, also, i am kind of proud of the outcome. M and i agreed that the extra-potent pudding was a hit. it was a lovely copper custard that balanced flexibility with the natural viscosity of straight caramel. while the grey salt i sprinkled on top was almost too much, the rest struck a pure and intoxicating chord. one serving was enough (and dude, this is not my motto).



so three cheers for blunders, really. and also for recognizing when something needs a bit of work. my pudding escapades are nunca few and far between, so i hope to happen upon other bits of golden in the future. sometimes you end up making lemonade out of lemons you didn’t even know you had. or whatever.

--E

Caramel Pudding
Adapted from Food & Wine

3 cups whole milk (preferably no other sort--in my opinion, non-fat pudding defeats the purpose)
4-5 tablespoons cornstarch
2 teaspoons vanilla
1/4 heaping teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
1 tablespoon of butter

In a small bowl, whisk together 1/2 cup of the milk, the cornstarch, vanilla, and salt until smooth. In a medium saucepan, bring the sugar and 6 tablespoons of water to a boil over medium-high heat. Cook, without stirring, until the sugar becomes a deep amber color (about 8 min). Remove from heat and whisk remaining 2 1/2 cups of milk into caramel. Careful--it will probably bubble and sputter a bit, but that's fine.

Return to stove and whisk until the caramel dissolves into the milk. Simmer over moderately low heat until the mixture thickens a bit and the color begins to deepen (about 10 min).

Remove from heat and whisk in the cornstarch mixture. Return to stove once more and simmer, while stirring, over medium heat for about one minute. The pudding should now become very thick. Remove from heat and stir in the butter.

I don't find any need to strain this pudding, so plop it into small dishes and chill thoroughly. Or, eat it warm right from the saucepan, as I am wont to do. The best!