Simplicity

When my parents met and began dating one of the things they liked to do was go for a malt. My dad was (and still is) a vanilla malt kind of guy. My mom, on the other hand, couldn't fathom a reason to get any flavor other than chocolate. "Vanilla is so boring", I imagine her to say. I'm sure there were several chocolate malts in the beginning of their relationship, but as time went by she began to warm to the idea of vanilla, and by the time I knew her she had almost fully switched camps. Don't get me wrong, she never lost appreciation for chocolate and the rich intensity it's flavor brings to your soul but she had developed a passion for simplicity.



To say that vanilla is simple, in all truth, is false. The process by which vanilla is procured is incredible, and if you happen to come across a good, moist, pliable bean (which is unfortunately rare outside of a professional kitchen) and take the time to inhale it's delicate perfume you will be amazed at how exotic and lush it is. I would propose in fact that vanilla is just as intense and complex a flavor as chocolate, only it is at the opposite end of the spectrum. Whereas chocolate is rich and dark and mysterious, vanilla is clean and bright and pure.

Those characteristics of vanilla are the things I believe won my mom over. She was a lover of all things clean, bright, and pure. She loved sunshine, and white walls; the cool tan of the beach and steel blue of the ocean in the Pacific Northwest. She loved the cheery heads tulips and daffodils pop up each spring to signal that winter is almost over and brighter days lay ahead. She was a soul nourished by serenity, beauty, and simplicity.

Since she died I find myself searching for something to make me feel better, something to fill that space she left behind. Most often this takes the form of eating or cooking (and then eating!) and though there is nothing that makes me feel any better or can begin to fill the empty space, I am finding the things I make are things I know she would enjoy. Such can be said of this pudding. It is cool, creamy, clean, and bright. Just the way she would have liked it.

Pudding, to me, seems to be one of the ultimate comfort foods, keeping company with things like pot pie, mac and cheese, and mashed potatoes. So it is not surprising in the least that making pudding seemed like a good idea. I do have one quibble with making things like puddings and custards at home though, and that is most recipes call for a hearty helping of egg yolks, leaving me with containers of the rejected whites, just sitting in the freezer for months because I don't know what to do with them. Imagine my relief, then, when I came across this recipe for an eggless pudding. Adapted from a recipe posted in the NY Times by Mark Bittman, the king of simplicity; I could hardly pass it up.

It's quick, only requires a few ingredients, and makes a wholly satisfying treat. I made the recipe according to MB but next time will lessen the sugar a tad, as I felt with his prescribed amount it was on the verge of cloying.

Vanilla Pudding

2 1/2 c. whole milk

2/3 c. sugar (I would reduce by a Tablespoon or two)

pinch kosher salt

1 vanilla bean, split and scraped

3 Tbsp. cornstarch

2 Tbsp. unsalted butter

In a medium saucepan mix 2 c. milk, sugar, salt, and vanilla bean seeds and pod. Bring just to a boil over medium heat. While that mixture heats, combine remaining 1/2 c. milk and cornstarch in a small bowl. Whisk to blend, making sure there are no lumps. When the milk mixture is hot, remove the vanilla pod and discard ( or rinse thoroughly, allow to air dry, and then store it in a jar of sugar, which it will perfume, and use in coffee, baking, etc.)

Into the hot mixture, whisk in the cornstarch mixture and cook over medium heat, whisking constantly, until the pudding thickens and begins to boil. Take off the heat, whisk in the butter, and immediately pour into ramekins or cups. Cover with plastic wrap unless you prefer your pudding to have skin. Chill at least an hour.

Yields 4- 5 dessert portions