Fruit and Nut Bread Pudding

Linda and Margaret were here for four days. We rode horses Saturday morning — Margaret is an experienced rider, Linda less so, both of them comfortable on Dusty and the bay mare. I took them up to the bench country on the east ridge, the same bench where I scout for elk, and we stood there looking down at the valley and Linda said: You go here every October to hunt? I said yes. She said: I understand now why it matters.

Sunday we drove to the Yellowstone — the spot south of town where I go on the sobriety anniversaries. I hadn't planned to show them. But we were driving and I turned south instead of north and parked at the pullout. We walked to the bank. The river is high in July, green and fast. I told them about the anniversaries, what I do there, what I've been thinking about when I stand at that spot. Linda listened the way she listens to everything: without interruption, with her whole attention.

When they left Monday morning, Linda hugged me at the car and said: You're going to be all right. I think you already mostly are. I didn't try to say anything. She got in the car and Margaret drove and they went down the county road toward the highway.

I went back to the shop and stood at the workbench for a while. Then I went to the kitchen and made bread, because that's what I do when I need to do something with my hands that will produce something good. Mixed the starter and the flour, felt the dough come together, left it to rise, folded it, shaped it, let it proof overnight. Made a good loaf. That's all. That was the right ending for the week.

The bread I made that Monday was a good loaf — open crumb, dark crust, the kind that comes out right when you’re not overthinking it. A day later, with a little of it still on the counter and Linda’s words still sitting somewhere in my chest, I cut it into cubes and made this pudding. It felt like the right second act: something warm, something that uses what you already made, something that asks almost nothing of you and gives back more than it should. If you’ve got a sturdy homemade loaf — sourdough especially — this is exactly where it wants to go.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

6 cups day-old bread, cut into 1-inch cubes (sourdough or rustic white works well)
3 large eggs
2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 cup raisins or dried cranberries
1/2 cup diced dried apricots or dried cherries
1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Heat your oven to 350°F. Butter a 9×13-inch baking dish and spread the bread cubes evenly in the dish.
Make the custard. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, heavy cream, granulated sugar, brown sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg until fully combined and smooth.
Add the fruit and nuts. Scatter the dried fruit and chopped nuts evenly over the bread cubes in the baking dish.
Soak the bread. Pour the custard mixture over the bread, fruit, and nuts. Press down gently with the back of a spoon so all the bread absorbs the custard. Let it sit for 10 minutes.
Dot with butter. Scatter the small pieces of butter across the top of the pudding.
Bake. Bake uncovered for 40–45 minutes, until the top is golden brown and the custard is set in the center. A knife inserted in the middle should come out mostly clean.
Rest and serve. Let the pudding rest for 10 minutes before serving. Serve warm, plain or with a drizzle of cream.

Nutrition (per serving)

Fruit and Nut Bread Pudding — What You Make When You Need to Make Something Good