Chocolate Pudding

I was raised on chocolate and pudding cups. In my family, it was an after dinner ritual to pull out the pudding whenever dessert was on the menu. Warm or cold, pudding cups were a part of my childhood routine. My mother always bought the packs with vanilla and chocolate because they came in volume packs, but the rest of my family thought it was silly—no one liked the vanilla cups. My father and I would always scramble to grab the chocolate ones before anyone else and my poor mother was left with the vanilla. In fact, I am not sure my mother ever had the opportunity to claim a chocolate cup as her own.

Nowadays, even though there seems to be a countless number of flavored puddings and custards, I always come back to good old-fashioned chocolate. Sometimes you just should not mess with an original.

There is a special pudding-eating spoon sitting in my kitchen drawer. Long and skinny, it was the smallest spoon we had in the house growing up (and I have since carried it with me into my own apartment). I adore this spoon for its small size and prefer to eat my favorite foods with it. The narrow curve holds very little, which means that I get to draw out the satisfaction of eating much longer. This proves doubly so when it comes to pudding.

Since I was young, I have liked to mix a few Cheerios into my chocolate pudding whenever they were in the cupboard. The cheerios absorb a bit of the bold chocolate flavor, but keep their firmness, resulting in the greatest bowl of cheerios a small child (or grown woman) can experience. My family would look at me strangely, too uncertain of the combination to try it themselves. Back then I assured them they were missing out (and I do the same today).

My ideal chocolate pudding is a little rich, with a very pronounced chocolate flavor from two sources—cocoa powder and a little melted chocolate. The real secret to this recipe is the addition of salt and vanilla extract. Both of these ingredients provide a contrasting flavor to the sweet chocolate, and the combination of the three takes the flavor of the pudding from one-dimensional to downright delicious.

This chocolate pudding may be simple, but simplicity is often just what we need.

Chocolate pudding is surprisingly easy to make, and takes only fifteen minutes to whip up from start to finish. The pudding is thickened with a combination of cornstarch and egg yolks, which gives it a real custard-like quality. A mixture of cocoa powder and melted chocolate lends a proper chocolate touch, while whole milk lends the pudding a rich and creamy flavor. Two-percent milk is a great alternative for a less rich pudding, but I would not use a milk lower in fat or the pudding may lose a little of its magic.

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Chai Spiced Rice Pudding

As young children, misconceptions run rampant in our lives, laughable to the adults entrusted with our care. As we grow older, however, the misconceptions become less endearing and more worthy of an eyebrow raise. These misunderstandings are tricky, slipping under the radar, lying low for years until an offhanded comment is made and the truth is suddenly revealed.

I used to believe that when someone "ran for president," they physically had to run a race. I can still picture it in my mind. Dressed up in fancy suits and ties, the candidates would race across the White House lawn towards a finish line strewn with red, white, and blue streamers. The track would be lined with important officials, cheering for the candidate they wanted to win with posters and loud whistles. The rules were simple—the first to cross the line would become the new president.

My poor third grade teacher had to sort that one out.

When I was fourteen years old, I brought up at dinner one evening that I did not understand why the Disney logo was spelled with a backwards capital G instead of a D. My mother stared at me in disbelief, letting her fork full of food hover over her plate. A long discussion followed, but it wasn't until she traced out the D in the logo on the television screen that I understood I was in the wrong. Logically, it made sense that Disney would begin with a D instead of a backwards G, but I had never questioned it until that moment, however disconcerting that fact may be.

(For the record, I still struggle to see that elusive D to this day.)

I also used to believe that gray hair grew in all at once. After reaching a certain age, I imagined a person simply woke up one morning and could only grow gray hair. The original hair color would still exist, but new growth would leave hair two-toned—gray on top, color on the bottom. I surmised this is why most older women had short hair; who would want to wait for that gray hair to grow all the way out? It turns out I had just witnessed several women with overdue dye jobs and drew conclusions too quickly.

My mother had the privilege of enlightening me on that one too.

So how does all of this relate to chai spiced pudding? While standing in the spice aisle hunting for a little container labeled chai, it seemed strange to me that I couldn't seem to find it in any of the three stores I had visited throughout the week. I had assumed that chai was a spice all its own, perhaps coming from a tree, like cinnamon. It wasn't until I sat down in front of the computer that the internet softly informed me chai was, in fact, a lovely mixture of several Indian spices.

After twenty-four years of life, I would think that most of these misconceptions would have sorted themselves out by now, but they still pop up when I least expect it.

What are your biggest misconceptions?

Chai Spiced Rice Pudding is just as it sounds—creamy rice pudding spiced with cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, and cloves. A pinch of black pepper is added to give the pudding a little spice, which defines this pudding with a unique signature. I used (and recommend) Arborio rice for this pudding because it retains its texture well. While rice pudding can be served warm or chilled, I find the soft warmth of the pudding and spices fill out a chilly fall evening quite well.

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Coconut Nutmeg Pudding

The apartment lifestyle is peculiar. I'm surrounded by people, dozens of people, but we all are strangers to one another. On the rare occasion we pass in the hallway on our way to here or there, a nod of acknowledgment is often given, but seldom a word is spoken. It astounds me how it's possible to share a wall with another person for months without quite knowing who lives on the other side.

If anything, I'd like to apologize to the person who has to listen to me watch Game of Thrones well into the night hours.

My windows overlook the balconies of another apartment building. Though I may not know my own neighbors, I feel I've gotten to know a little bit about my neighbors across the way—a small peek into their lives from the view on the balcony. On the third floor, there is a tall man who steps out for a smoke each morning, mug of coffee in hand. Leaning against the railing, he blows his cigarette smoke into the wind, curiously never taking a sip of the drink he brought with him.

A man on the second floor leaves his blinds open late into the evening. Though I've never seen his face, I can see the twinkling of his television through the window as he settles into another night of watching ESPN.

A woman on the first floor fills her balcony with plants. Green leaves dangle from the ceiling, just touching the bright, beautiful flowers spilling out of planters on the floor. Each morning before the heat of the day swells in, she can be found with a watering can in hand, tending to her plants. Her garden is a lovely sight to behold. I wonder if she ever wishes her garden could grow larger, sprawling out on the apartment lawn. I know I would welcome it.

The last woman is a quiet, tender soul. With a scarf wrapped around her head, she sits outside on a blue beach chair with a book in her hands. She reads for hours, as the sun streaks across the sky, occasionally reaching for the bowl of mixed nuts that rests beside her chair. Periodically I'll join her by sitting out on my own balcony and reading. I wonder what type of books she likes to read. I wonder if she has any to recommend.

Of all of my neighbors, I feel a connection with her the most. Perhaps that's what is most important when you're living in an apartment building, surrounded by people, but living alone. Connection. Though I may never meet these people or shake their hands, the small peak into their lives makes me feel attached to them, bringing me just a little bit closer to the new place I've chosen to call home.

This Coconut Nutmeg Pudding is simple, but elegant. Made with coconut milk and thickened with cornstarch, the pudding has a silky smooth texture. A hint of nutmeg truly rounds out the coconut flavor in an unexpected, delightful manner with a topping of toasted coconut to finish off the pudding. Served warm or chilled, this pudding is comfort food at its finest.

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