By The couples are back from their honeymoons. Destiny and Travis came for dinner Sunday and they had that newly-married quality of people who have been alone together for a week and are now rejoining the world slightly transformed. Travis made a point of saying the beignets in New Orleans were remarkable but that he did not have anything to compare them to since he'd never had a beignet before, and Destiny made a face that suggested he had talked about the beignets a good deal already. I told him I could make a version — not authentic, but good — and he said he would hold me to that.
CJ called Sunday evening. He and Shanice are settling back into Huntsville — she's back at her practice, he's back at work — and he said it felt strange at first to come home to a place that was suddenly theirs together and not just his. He said it in a good way, strange like unfamiliar, not strange like wrong. I told him that was the right kind of strange, the kind that grows into normal if you take care of it. He said he knew. He said Shanice had made her grandmother's tea cakes the first night they were back, just because she wanted the apartment to smell like home, and he had come in from work to that smell and stood in the doorway for a minute before saying anything. I told him to hold onto that. That smell and that doorway are your first memory of what your life together will be.
Late October is settling in outside. My garden is mostly done — I pulled the last of the tomato stakes and turned the compost bin and covered the herb bed for the winter. The empty garden always makes me a little sad for about three days and then I start thinking about what I'll plant in March and the sadness turns into anticipation. That's the garden's annual gift: making you believe in spring even in the middle of fall.
CJ’s story about Shanice making her grandmother’s tea cakes — just to fill the apartment with the smell of home — stayed with me long after we got off the phone. There’s a whole category of recipe that isn’t really about the food; it’s about what the food does to a room and to the people in it. This rice pudding is mine. It’s humble and it takes almost no time, but it fills the kitchen with something warm and sweet and settling, and on a late-October evening when the garden is put to bed and the world feels like it’s turning a page, that’s exactly what I want.
Classic Minute Rice Pudding
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 cups whole milk
- 1 cup water
- 1 cup instant (minute) white rice, uncooked
- 1/3 cup granulated sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 large egg, lightly beaten
- 1/2 cup whole milk (added at finish)
- 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon, plus more for serving
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Instructions
- Combine and heat. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine 2 cups milk, the water, rice, sugar, and salt. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle simmer, stirring frequently.
- Cook the rice. Once simmering, reduce heat to medium-low and cook, stirring often, for about 12–15 minutes, until the rice is tender and the mixture has thickened slightly.
- Temper the egg. In a small bowl, whisk together the beaten egg and the remaining 1/2 cup milk. Slowly ladle a spoonful of the hot rice mixture into the egg mixture while whisking constantly to temper it. Then pour the tempered egg mixture back into the saucepan, stirring continuously.
- Finish cooking. Continue to cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, for 3–4 more minutes, until the pudding thickens to a creamy, spoonable consistency. Do not let it boil.
- Add flavor. Remove from heat. Stir in the vanilla extract, cinnamon, and butter until the butter is fully melted and incorporated.
- Serve. Spoon into bowls and dust lightly with additional cinnamon. Serve warm, or press a sheet of plastic wrap directly onto the surface and refrigerate until cold if you prefer it chilled.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 290 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 210mg