New Orleans Bread Pudding

Danielle turned thirty-nine this week. I threw her a surprise party — payback for my 35th, when she assembled forty-three people in my driveway without my knowledge. I couldn't match forty-three (her circle is smaller than mine because she has standards about invitation lists that I do not), but I got twenty, and I got Angelle to drive up from Lafayette with the king cake, and I got Pierre to come without being asked (Pierre: "Danielle's birthday?" Me: "Yes." Pierre showed up at noon with a handmade wooden cutting board as a gift, because Pierre communicates through woodwork the way I communicate through food).

I cooked a full Cajun spread: crawfish étouffée (her favorite of my dishes, which she has ranked ahead of gumbo, which is controversial but I accept it because she's the birthday girl), dirty rice, fried shrimp po'boys, and a bananas Foster that I lit with the crème brûlée torch and which flamed so high that Rémy said, "Again!" and Danielle said, "Please don't," and I did it again because it was her birthday and fire is festive.

Her toast (I gave one this time, returning the favor): "To Danielle. Who said yes twice and no once to keep me humble. Who kept the lights on when the lights went out. Who organized a flood and a pandemic and a business and a family and a husband who doesn't deserve her organizational skills but benefits from them daily. To the woman who makes everything possible by making everything orderly. Happy birthday, sha. The gumbo is secondary. You are the main course." She cried. I cried. Rémy said, "Can I have more étouffée?" The boy knows when to break the tension. The boy is a professional.

The bananas Foster got the applause — and the fire, and Rémy’s encore request — but if I’m honest, New Orleans Bread Pudding is the dessert that actually holds a Cajun celebration together. It’s the kind of dish that doesn’t need drama to earn its place at the table; it just sits there being warm and generous and exactly right, which is, come to think of it, a fair description of Danielle herself. Next time around, this one goes on the spread alongside the étouffée — it’s too good to save for the afterthought.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

1 loaf (about 1 lb) day-old French bread, cubed into 1-inch pieces
3 cups whole milk
3 large eggs, beaten
2 cups granulated sugar
1 cup raisins
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
2 tablespoons pure vanilla extract
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Whiskey Sauce:
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1 large egg, beaten
2–3 tablespoons bourbon or whiskey (to taste)

Instructions

Soak the bread. Place cubed French bread in a large mixing bowl. Pour milk over the bread and let it soak for at least 15 minutes, pressing down gently until all pieces are saturated.
Mix the custard. Add beaten eggs, sugar, raisins, melted butter, vanilla extract, cinnamon, and nutmeg to the soaked bread. Stir gently until fully combined — the mixture should be thick and cohesive, not soupy.
Bake the pudding. Grease a 9x13-inch baking dish. Pour the bread mixture into the dish and spread evenly. Bake at 350°F for 45–50 minutes, until the top is golden brown and the center is set (a knife inserted in the center should come out clean).
Make the whiskey sauce. While the pudding bakes, melt butter in a small saucepan over low heat. Whisk in powdered sugar until smooth. Remove from heat and let cool for 2 minutes, then slowly whisk in the beaten egg (the residual heat will cook it gently). Stir in bourbon to taste. Keep warm over very low heat, stirring occasionally.
Serve. Spoon warm bread pudding into bowls or onto plates and ladle whiskey sauce generously over the top. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

New Orleans Bread Pudding — The Dessert That Almost Stole the Show from Bananas Foster