Yesterday’s pot roast was apparently just the beginning of an exciting day where food was concerned. When I got home, we decided on fried chicken and greens and macaroni and cheese (you TOTALLY got me thinking about mac and cheese, Ottermatic) for dinner and it was awesome. I love greens, y’all.
I think greens might actually bear a little more explanation because I don’t mean salad greens. Greens is a generic name for an American southern dish. It can be used to mean turnip greens, mustard greens, or collard greens, prepared with spices like garlic and pepper, and then cooked until they are…. Well, they’re tender and juicy and kind of stringy and weird. Also, you can throw a ham hock in there for a little extra flavor.
That is a bowl full of collard greens, prepared via this recipe, which isn’t a bad recipe, though it is missing the garlic.
Greens are eaten with hot sauce for a little extra kick. My favorite dish is a mix of turnip, collard, and mustard greens cooked with plenty of garlic, a ham hock (though a liberal salting will do in a pork pinch), and served with Texas Pete hot sauce.
It’s not an attractive dish but my food doesn’t owe me pretty. *grin*
Anyway, we had dinner and then we decided to make ourselves some bread pudding. Bread pudding was a new thing for me that I tried in New Orleans and I’m feeling a little obsessed right now. It’s AMAZING.
And so I present to you the recipe the Wombat and I cobbled together from a variety of sources.
* cubed bread to fill an 8×8 baking pan
* 2-3 tablespoons butter, melted (depends on how much bread you have)
* 3 eggs, beaten
* 2 cups heavy whipping cream
* 3/4 cup white sugar
* 1/4 cup brown sugar
* 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
* 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Heat your oven to 350 degrees on the fahrenheit scale. Ponder the essential silliness and redundancy of the term “pre”heat as it really just means heat your oven. Understand that it means, in usage, heat your oven ahead of time but refuse to use the term anyway.
Melt the butter and drizzle it over the cubed bread that you have used to fill your ungreased 8×8 pan. Debate the specific rate of pour implied by the word drizzle. Give the designated drizzler a lot of feedback. Duck.
In a medium-sized mixing bowl, combine your beaten eggs (poor eggs), the heavy whipping cream (between the beating and the whipping it’s like an S&M convention in this bowl!), both kinds of sugar, the cinnamon, and the vanilla. And don’t use the imitation vanilla, y’all. Good things come from real, genuine vanilla extract. Even better things come from real, genuine homemade vanilla bean vanilla extract but I don’t think any of us have that kind of time. Use a whisk and mix everything thoroughly.
Pour the mix over the butter-soaked bread. Squoosh the bread cubes down into the mixture. Continue to squoosh just because it is fun until all of the bread is soaked in the eggy, creamy, tasty liquid.
At this point, your oven should have reached the specified temp of 350. Placed your baking pan into the oven and set the timer for 45 minutes. When the timer goes off, check your pudding – we used a clean knife inserted near the center in classic cake-baking style. If it is clean, take the bread pudding out of the oven. Admire it. Then cut a piece out for every cook involved and top it with fresh whipped cream, ice cream, or a sauce of your choosing. We haven’t figured out a good sauce yet, though we know it is going to involve both butter and rum.
Then put it in your face!
Note, this is not a picture I took. I found it online. But you get the general impression.
The beauty of the bread pudding last night was that, as good as it was, I had one small square because that was all I wanted. I didn’t cut the entire pudding entire 4 sections and call it a day. I didn’t take a microscopic serving because, zomg, heavy whipping cream AND butter AND AND AND. I just took what I wanted and enjoyed it and damn, it was tasty.
This is what comes of viewing food as food and not as a finite reward that we will never be granted again. This is what comes of not giving food a moral label as though it goes out and wrecks homes when you aren’t looking or helps little old ladies cross the street.
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