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Raisin Pudding -- A Sweet Comfort for the Last New Year's Table with All Four of Us

New Year's 2032. Fifteen years sober. I am fifty-one years old. Both of my twins are now in or about to enter the next phase of their lives: Marco leaving for college in January, Elena going in September. The house Lisa and I have shared for twenty-six years will be the two of us, for the first time since Diego was born in 2007. I've been trying to hold this transition with the same intention I hold other transitions: openly, without resistance, with curiosity about what comes next.

Fifteen years. The arithmetic of sobriety: I have now been sober for longer than the NFL career I watched Diego begin. Longer than the span from Diego's birth to his first varsity start. Longer than the span from my first year at Eldorado Prep to this morning. The years accumulate and the accumulation is the point. You do not recover in order to reach a destination. You recover in order to be present for the life that arrives. This life arrived. I've been present for it. I intend to keep being present for it.

Black-eyed peas. Green chile. The twins at the table for the last January together, because Marco leaves in two weeks and Elena follows in nine months. Lisa is across from me. I look at her and she looks at me and twenty-six years is in that look — everything built and kept and built again. She raises her glass. I raise mine. Black-eyed peas for luck. We already have it. We've had it for years. We keep earning it anyway, which is how you keep it.

We had the black-eyed peas and the green chile, and then Lisa brought out dessert—something warm and unhurried, the way the evening itself felt. I’d asked her weeks earlier to make her raisin pudding, the one she’s pulled out for quiet, significant nights for as long as I can remember, because I wanted something that didn’t try to be festive so much as present. The four of us sat with it long after the bowls were empty, nobody rushing to move, and I thought: this is exactly the texture of fifteen years—dense and sweet and worth the patience it took to get here.

Raisin Pudding

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 2/3 cup granulated sugar, divided
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1/2 cup whole milk
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 3/4 cup raisins
  • 1 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1 3/4 cups boiling water

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease an 8-inch square baking dish.
  2. Make the batter. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, 1/3 cup granulated sugar, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Stir in milk, melted butter, and vanilla until a thick batter forms. Fold in raisins.
  3. Spread batter. Pour batter into the prepared baking dish and spread evenly with a spatula.
  4. Make the sauce. In a separate bowl, stir together brown sugar and remaining 1/3 cup granulated sugar. Sprinkle this mixture evenly over the top of the batter. Carefully pour the boiling water over the entire surface—do not stir.
  5. Bake. Bake uncovered for 40–45 minutes, until the top is set and golden and a sauce has formed beneath. The pudding will look bubbled and rich around the edges.
  6. Rest and serve. Let stand 10 minutes before scooping. Serve warm in bowls, spooning the sauce from the bottom of the dish up over each portion. Pair with vanilla ice cream or a dollop of whipped cream if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 73g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 170mg

Carlos Medina
About the cook who shared this
Carlos Medina
Week 328 of Carlos’s 30-year story · Denver, Colorado
Carlos is a high school football coach and married father of four in Denver whose family has been in New Mexico since before the Mayflower landed. He grew up on his grandmother's green chile — roasted over an open flame, the smell thick enough to stop traffic — and he puts it on everything. Eggs, burgers, pizza, ice cream once on a dare. His cooking is hearty, New Mexican, and built to feed a team. Literally.

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