Custard — Something Soft for the Days He Can Only Manage Soft Things

Surgery is September 6, one day after Labor Day. Two and a half weeks out. We have a plan. The plan is: surgery, two weeks of recovery, then radiation and chemotherapy to begin. Radiation will be five days a week for six weeks. Chemo will be oral, daily, starting with radiation and continuing for twelve months. This is the standard regimen. I know the regimen. I have administered it and watched it and charted it for nine years. This time I am standing in the other room. That is a different view.

I have been refining the soup. I made a version Friday that was more lemon, a version Saturday with a little ginger, a version Sunday with rice cooked in the broth (not added cooked rice, but rice simmered in at the end). Sean liked the ginger one best so far. His stomach is still unpredictable. Some days he eats normally. Some days he can only eat soft things and the soup. I am adjusting. I am keeping notes. There is a small notebook in my kitchen now labeled "Sean Soup" and it has five entries.

Liam starts first-year preschool next Thursday. Four-year-old preschool. His real last year before kindergarten. Sean is going to do the drop-off, because it is important to him, because he does not yet know how many drop-offs he will be able to do in the coming years. I heard him say this to himself one night at the kitchen sink when he did not know I was on the stairs. He said it quietly. "I want to do as many as I can." He did not know I was listening. I did not say anything. I went back up to my room and I stood at the window and I did not let myself fall apart because I have rules about when I fall apart and that was not the time. The time came later, at 2 AM, in the bathroom, on the tile, for eighteen minutes. Then I washed my face and I brushed my teeth and I went back to bed. Sean was asleep. I held his hand in the dark. I did not wake him.

Sean called his mother and sister and brother Saturday and told them the final pathology and the plan. He was direct. He was measured. He did not protect them from the specifics — he had made the decision to be clear. They received it the way families receive it. Calls back and forth all evening. His sister arrived Sunday and stayed until Tuesday. She slept in the basement because Grace was in the guest room. She got Liam ready for camp one morning and made him smile by doing a ridiculous voice for his Cheerios. She is a good aunt.

The tomatoes are coming in hard. A basket a day. I am canning some — water-bath canning, the simple method, because the glut is beyond what we can eat. Jars lined up on the counter. Maureen came down Monday and canned with me. Five hours at the stove. We made twelve jars. She did not talk much. She did not need to. When I finally sat down at the end she poured me a glass of wine without asking and put her hand on my shoulder and said "you are doing it, kid" and walked out of the kitchen. That was the support. That was enough.

Surgery is in seventeen days. I am cooking. I am writing. I am holding my husband's hand in the dark.

The soup notebook has five entries now, but there are days when even the soup is too much — days when Sean’s stomach wants something quieter, something that asks nothing of it. I started making custard on those days. It is not glamorous. It does not require a notebook. It requires eggs and milk and a little patience in a low oven, and it comes out soft and warm and entirely without demands, which is exactly what some days call for. I make it in small ramekins so there is no pressure to finish. He eats what he can. That is enough.

Custard

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 2 cups whole milk
• 3 large eggs
• 3 tablespoons granulated sugar
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• Fresh nutmeg, grated, for topping (optional)

Instructions

1. Preheat and prepare. Heat your oven to 325°F. Place four 6-ounce ramekins in a deep baking dish and set aside.
2. Warm the milk. In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, warm the milk until it just begins to steam — do not let it boil. Remove from heat.
3. Whisk the eggs. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, sugar, vanilla, and salt until smooth and fully combined.
4. Temper carefully. Slowly pour the warm milk into the egg mixture in a thin, steady stream, whisking constantly. Go slowly so the eggs don’t scramble. Skim off any foam from the surface.
5. Fill and strain. Pour the custard through a fine-mesh strainer into a pitcher or measuring cup for easy pouring. Divide evenly among the four ramekins. Grate a little fresh nutmeg over the top of each, if using.
6. Create a water bath. Pour enough hot tap water into the baking dish to reach halfway up the sides of the ramekins. This gentle, even heat prevents the custard from curdling.
7. Bake low and slow. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, until the edges are just set and the centers still have a slight wobble when nudged. Do not overbake.
8. Cool and serve. Carefully remove the ramekins from the water bath and let them cool on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Serve warm, or refrigerate for up to three days and serve cold.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 145 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 15g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 185mg