Showing posts with label comfort food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label comfort food. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Pineapple Bread Pudding


I love pineapples. Quite a bit of my early teens was spent sitting on our front steps scooping pineapple rings out of a can with a fork and eating them, while my friend Robin and I watched cars go by. We lived in a small suburb... watching cars go by was a way to pass the endless amount of time that summer seemed to be, since we couldn't go to the beach until the weekend.

Unlike big hair, Wham!, and acid-washed jeans, my love of pineapple has stood the test of time. It is quite versatile, but one of my favorite ways to eat it has to be sliced into huge, watermelon-like wedges, or tucked into this bread pudding. My kids love this for breakfast the next day, but I love it when it is still barely warm.

Pineapple bread pudding

2/3 cup granulated sugar

5 tbsp unsalted butter, softened

4 eggs

3/4 tsp kosher salt

1 20 ounce can crushed pineapple, in its own juice, drained

6 slices white or wheat sandwich bread, crusts removed, diced into 1/2 inch cubes

2 Tbsp packed light brown sugar

Preheat oven to 350F; butter an 8x8 pan; set aside.

Cream the butter and granulated sugar together until fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, until well incorporated. Add salt and stir until well blended. Add pineapple, stir until mixed thoroughly, then stir in bread cubes. Pour into prepared pan. Sprinkle brown sugar over the top. Bake uncovered for 35 minutes. Let cool for at least 15 minutes before serving.


Sunday, May 15, 2011

Pudding, two ways

I have a thing for pudding. It is comforting and creamy and delicious. I grew up with pudding out of a box, and never really had anything outside of it. Of course, I preferred the cooked over the instant, which I find has an odd, gritty, fake flavor about it.

The first homemade pudding I had was made by MB, my college roommate, in the tiny galley kitchen of the apartment we rented. Little did I know, MB was about to change my view of pudding forever. There were eggs in her pudding, which apparently is more of a cooked custard, but it was lush and silky and delicious. I loved the stuff. I also had no idea how to make it. Since the hallmark of the starving college student is a lack of cashflow, I wasn't about to waste precious quantities of milk on the chance that I'd make chocolate scrambled eggs.

It wasn't until I was searching for a from-scratch recipe for banana pudding that I came across something that resembled MB's recipe ingredients, which she refused to share. I tweaked it and whatnot, and came up with the silky glorious result that will follow your constant stirring.

The uses of pudding are nearly endless. Use it to drench torn layers of pound cake topped with berries (for the vanilla) or dribbles of salted caramel (for the chocolate). Tuck it into the soft folds of a baked meringue. Put it into the ice cream maker after it cools for a dense, frozen custard. Or, do what I'm doing today; sit by the fire with a still-warm bowl of pudding on a chilly, rainy sort of day.

The Pudding

2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup sugar for vanilla, or 1/3 cup sugar for chocolate
2 large eggs
1/4 plus 2 tsp. all purpose flour
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/3 cup bittersweet chocolate chunks

In a 2-qt, heavy bottomed saucepan, whisk sugar and eggs together until well blended. Add flour, and whisk until no visible lumps remain. Slowly add the milk until all is incorporated. Turn the heat to medium, and whisking constantly, stir the pudding mixture until it is thickened and coats the whisk, about 5 minutes. As the mixture begins to thicken, turn the heat to low. It is important to stir the pudding mixture the entire time, or else it will begin to curdle on the bottom of the pan, and will result in a grainy texture. Once the pudding coats the tines of the whisk, turn off and remove from heat. Add vanilla. Add chocolate, if desired, and whisk until all of the chocolate is melted. Pour into a heat-safe bowl and lay plastic wrap directly on the surface of the pudding. Cool to room temperature and refrigerate.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Astonishingly Similar to the Post Previous...

... but altogether different. Alas, I did not photograph last night's dinner. I will tell you that it was absolutely delicious, and extremely easy to make (c'mon.. you essentially chuck stuff in a pot and call it done.) You may have come to notice that I cook with the spirits a lot. No, that doesn't mean that Elvis is in my kitchen. I cook with far more alcohol than I'd ever have time to drink. It can elevate the simplest ingredients to something noteworthy.

Rustic Beef with Potatoes, Parsnips, and Onion
(serves 4)

2-3 lb chuck roast, trimmed of extra fat
1 large onion, chopped in large pieces
4 cloves of garlic, peeled and left whole
4 Yukon Gold potatoes, sliced into about 1 1/2 inch chunks
4 parsnips, peeled and sliced into 2 inch slices, on the diagonal
1 Tbsp chopped fresh rosemary
1 1/2 cups cabernet sauvignon
1/2 cup ketchup (really!)
3/4 cup water
1 Tbsp balsamic vinegar
2 Tbsp canola oil
salt and ground black pepper

Pat the chuck roast dry and season liberally with salt and pepper. In a bowl, mix wine, water, ketchup and vinegar until combined. Set aside. In a large saute pan (preferably NOT nonstick,) heat the oil over high heat. Sear the roast on each side until it is dark brown. Remove from pan and set aside. Add parsnips, onion, and garlic to the pan and saute until the parnsips and onion start to caramelize. Add rosemary to pan. Once mixture becomes fragrant, about 30 seconds, add wine mixture, stirring to scrape up any brown bits (fond) on the bottom of the pan. Let mixture come to a rolling boil. Turn heat down to low, add the roast back to the pot, add the potatoes in a single layer and cover. Simmer for 40 minutes over very low heat. Remove roast from pan and allow to rest for approximately 15 minutes before slicing. While the roast is resting, remove cover from pan, increase heat to medium high, and reduce the pan sauce by half.

And yes, licking your plate is uncouth.