Israeli Malabi with Pomegranate Syrup

I made the decision about the book this week — not a conscious decision, more like a recognition of something that has already been decided by the writing itself. I have been writing blog posts for six years — three hundred and six weeks — and the posts have been getting longer and more ambitious and more like the thing they want to be, which is not blog posts but essays, real essays, the kind I taught for forty-two years, the kind that have a beginning and a middle and an end and that the end of which makes you feel something you didn't feel before you started reading. The posts want to be a book. I want to write a book. The wanting is not new — I have wanted to write a book since I was twelve — but the permission is new, because retirement is giving me permission, because the end of teaching is the beginning of writing, and the beginning of writing is the book, and the book is about Sylvia and Irving and the Bronx and the challah and the brisket and the chain and the women who stood in kitchens and made soup from nothing and passed the soup forward. The book is about all of them. The book is about me.

I told Rebecca. She said, "Mama, I've been waiting for you to say this for twenty years." I said, "I needed the twenty years." She said, "You needed the forty-two." She was right. I needed forty-two years of teaching other people's words before I was ready to write my own.

I made challah — not for Shabbat, just challah, because the braiding of challah is the physical expression of the chain, the three strands becoming one, and I needed to feel the chain in my hands while the idea of the book was forming in my mind. The challah was golden and perfect and I tore off a heel and ate it warm and thought: I am going to write a book. About this. About all of this. About the challah and the chain and the kitchen and the women. I am going to write a book.

The challah was the ritual, the braiding was the prayer — but when the loaf had cooled and Rebecca had gone home and the kitchen was quiet again and the idea of the book had settled into something solid and real, I wanted something sweet that felt like a destination rather than a beginning. Malabi is what my mother’s cousins brought from Israel, the dessert that showed up at celebrations, at endings that were really openings. It felt exactly right: a pudding that is simple and ancient and rooted in the same chain I am about to spend the next chapter of my life writing about, finished with pomegranate syrup the color of garnets, the color of everything I still have left to say.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes plus 2 hours chilling | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1 1/2 teaspoons rose water
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
For the pomegranate syrup:
1 cup pomegranate juice
3 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon lemon juice
For serving:
3 tablespoons pomegranate arils
2 tablespoons finely chopped pistachios
Dried rose petals (optional)

Instructions

Whisk the base. In a medium saucepan, whisk together the milk, heavy cream, sugar, and cornstarch until the cornstarch is fully dissolved and no lumps remain.
Cook the pudding. Place the saucepan over medium heat and cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon or silicone spatula, until the mixture thickens enough to coat the back of the spoon, about 10—12 minutes. Do not let it boil vigorously.
Add flavorings. Remove from heat and stir in the rose water and vanilla extract. Taste and adjust rose water if desired — it should be fragrant but not overpowering.
Set the malabi. Pour the pudding into six small serving bowls or glasses. Let cool to room temperature, then cover each with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, until fully set and cold.
Make the pomegranate syrup. Combine the pomegranate juice, sugar, and lemon juice in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir until the sugar dissolves, then simmer until the syrup reduces by about half and coats a spoon, 8—10 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool completely.
Serve. Spoon a generous tablespoon of pomegranate syrup over each chilled malabi. Top with pomegranate arils, chopped pistachios, and rose petals if using. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Israeli Malabi with Pomegranate Syrup — A Sweet Ending for a Story Just Beginning